ra-bies
n.
1. An acute, infectious, often fatal viral disease of most warm-blooded animals, especially wolves, cats, and dogs, that attacks the central nervous system and is transmitted by the bite of infected animals.

One of my neighbors has this dog named Dino.

Dino is a very friendly Black Lab that always "helps" me mow my lawn.

By "helps" I mean he follows me around and barks at my mower, and whenever he sees a stick he picks it up and places it directly in front of said mower. If he doesn't see any sticks he'll go into the woods and get some.

That way, see, I'll have to stop and throw the stick to keep from running over it, and Dino (a Black Lab, remember) thinks that thrown sticks are The Greatest Things In The Universe.

Sounds like a pretty smart dog, right?

Maybe, and maybe not.

One of Dino's less brillant activities is to wait for small sticks - those not worth being moved out of the mower's path - to be thrown by the mower blades. When this happens Dino recognizes the sound immediately and rushes out to try to catch these fast-moving little missiles.

So yesterday Dino is helping me mow as usual and the mower kicks up a stick that's about 4" long and 1" thick.

After he caught the stick Dino started making gagging motions. I thought he'd managed to catch a stick in his throat so of course I got off the mower to help him.

Well the stick wasn't in his throat, but it was lodged in his mouth pretty well. One end of the stick had been impaled by a tooth, and the other end was lodged against the roof of his mouth.

It looked quite painful, and there was some blood.

I must have tried for 15 minutes to get that damn stick out of his mouth, but all I accomplished was to make it hurt more.

He didn't really bite me.

All he did was reflexively close his mouth while I just happened to have both thumbs jammed in there trying to get the stick out.

I don't blame him a bit. Hell maybe his fuzzy dog brain thought I was trying to jam the stick in even further.

I gave up on trying to get the thing out myself and called my neighbor. While I was inside putting hydrogen peroxide on my thumbs I guess Dino managed to remove the thing on his own, because when I went back outside to finish mowing he was right there to help some more.

Today I have a lovely bandage on each thumb, but they're more precautionary than medical. I probably won't need them beyond maybe Wednesday.

im-pro-pri-e-ty
n.
1. An act of undue intimacy.

un-fit-ting
adj.
1. Not in keeping with what is correct or proper.

pa-thet-ic
adj.
1. Arousing or capable of arousing sympathetic sadness and compassion.
2. Arousing or capable of arousing scornful pity.

Wow what a rambling mess that last entry was.

I just had a couple more thoughts that I thought were worth recording.

LaptopGirl, normally a very outgoing and friendly person, suddenly became quite shy when it came time to ask Screech a question about his old show. It was really quite cute when she said that "we" (she motioned to BigWheelGirl and me) had a question "we'd" been dying to ask.

Also, there was a guy in the back of the room that was some kind of lameass heckler. I'm pretty sure this guy has been at the Comedy Caravan every time I've ever been there. I think he must be on staff and they pay him to heckle the performers.

Also, I really don't like it when comedians use politics or other controversial subjects to get cheap applause or boos. I like it even less when people in the audience reflexively react to these obvious ploys.

This is not the WWE where everyone has to be a heel or a face to be successful. Just tell some damn jokes. Entertainers using their position in the spotlight to push their own agendas make me sick.

Also, and this may have just been because I was sitting in the back seat of a fairly large vehicle, BigWheelGirl's driving really made me nervous. I kept wishing she'd just pick a lane and stay inside it.

Finally, LaptopGirl got a call that was a wrong number or something that evolved into a 15-minute conversation during which I don't think she quite told the stranger on the phone her address or Social Security number.

It was a fun night. A little strange to be out without drinking though.

Add awkward ending here.

LaptopGirl asked me a couple of hours ago, "What are you going to write about tonight, Dave?"

I sit here now completely unable to answer that question.

Total writers-block.

Not that I'm a real writer or anything.

Well maybe I'll just start rambling and it will all make sense.

Or maybe not.

Tonight we went to a comedy club to see the guy that played Screech on TV years ago.

When I say "we" I mean LaptopGirl and I, but this was not a date. LaptopGirl's friend BigWheelGirl came as well, probably to make sure I didn't get any ideas.

It was kind of fun to watch them interact - I usually only get to see LaptopGirl interacting with regulars at the bar.

So anyway, this was the first time I'd gone to the club in a long time. Several years ago it seemed like I went fairly often with family and friends but that all stopped for various reasons.

There were three performers, and all were pretty funny. The second guy did a Barney Fife impression that was hilarious.

The people sitting at the table in front of us were assholes - talking to each other during the entire show. Why do people pay money to see a show then completely ignore it?

Because that's what assholes do.

LaptopGirl seemed quite determined to get one of the comedians to go to Rich O's, but I think they all thought she was a little too SwimFanish or something and they kind of blew her off.

I didn't drink anything but Diet Coke all night - my hangover was still enough of a presence that even the whiff of beer I got at Rich O's waiting for LaptopGirl to arrive made me ill.

I had fun though.

There.

I guess now the question of what I'll write about tonight has been answered.

And the answer is:

Nothing much.

I've been tweaking the layout of the 'blog entries - mainly just adding a background and a border as you can see.

I have some more to do. The text padding above the entry headers is not consistent.

I'll have to dig out my CSS book to see what I'm doing wrong.

"Sometimes, when you're putting up a mirror, you realize just how ugly your shirt is."

-- Guy on TLC's In a Fix

e-clec-tic
adj.
1. Selecting or employing individual elements from a variety of sources, systems, or styles.
2. Made up of or combining elements from a variety of sources.

ac-cus-tomed
adj.
1. Frequently practiced, used, or experienced; customary.
2. Being in the habit of.
3. Having been adapted to the existing environment and conditions.

form-fit-ting
adj.
1. Snugly fitting the coutours of the body.

Not much to report tonight. It was a regular Friday night. I had a Great Lakes Anniversary Ale, a Fischer's Amber Ale, and an Alaskan Smoked Porter. All were good, and all were beers I've had before...

...Just not in that particular order.

I've decided to call this particular alcohol combination the TimeBomb.

Last night I was fine for most of the night. I was fine at Rich O's talking with LaptopGirl, TrainGirl and RealTrainGirl, and DooRagGirl's husband and ExBartender. I was fine when MysteryLady and I had a surprise phone conversation while I was on the way home. I was fine once I got home. I was even fine when I started making this entry last night.

But at one point - specifically when I typed the words "and all were beers I'd had before" - The room started spinning. Then the house started spinning, followed in quick succession by the Earth and the entire Milky Way.

I did not get sick.

I just wished that I would.

Now today I've got that lovely dehydrated feeling that can only come from too much alcohol.

So yesterday I was bored so I decided to sign up at ratebeer.com.

I then went back through all my old 'blog entries and put all of my beer ratings into the ratebeer site.

I was a little surprised to see that I've already got 59 ratings, and I only need 41 more to qualify for their elite premium membership.

That's when things will turn around for me.

I mean, chicks dig guys who drink a lot of beer, right?

Right?

I hate you all so much.

So damn smug with your "I can eat all the meat I want and STILL lose weight" talk.

You'd think carbs were sent by the devil himself. Everywhere it's low-carb this, zero-carb that, reduced-carb other crowding all the good things from the grocery shelves and restaurant menus.

I hate you people.

Hey, I've got a diet for you.

It's called The Put Down The Donut You Fat Fuck Diet.

The nice thing about my diet is that you actually SAVE money. For one thing you don't have to spend an extra $2.00 at Hardee's to have them take the buns off of your hamburger and wrap it in lettuce.

Donuts and cookes and ice cream all cost money. If you don't eat these things you don't have to buy them anymore. You save money AND lose weight.

You disgusting pig.

If my first diet doesn't work for you because people are holding guns to your head making you eat Ho-Hos like there's no tomorrow I've got another diet that may work.

It's called The Get Off Your Fat Ass And Do Something You Obese Turd Diet.

This one requires a little more willpower because, as the name suggests, you actually have to do something.

You don't have to do much. You don't even have to call it excercise because those excercise people are a bunch of jerks anyway.

Just do some work around the house, or play with the dog, or masturbate furiously for hours at a time.

Just do something.

Or do nothing. It's your life and your body.

All I ask is that you sanctimonious pricks stop looking at me, eating my spaghetti dinner, like I was mainlining herion or something.

na-ive
adj.
1.
a. Simple and guileless; artless.
b. Unsuspecting or credulous.

per-fec-tion-ism
n.
1. A propensity for being displeased with anything that is not perfect or does not meet extremely high standards.

re-al-is-tic
adj.
1. Tending to or expressing an awareness of things as they really are.

bit-ter
adj.
1. Marked by resentment or cynicism.

des-per-ate
adj.
1. having lost all hope; despairing.
2. Marked by, arising from, or showing despair.
3. Reckless or violent because of despair.
4. Undertaken out of extreme urgency or as a last resort.
5. Nearly hopelessl critical.
6. Suffering or driven by great need or distress.
7. Extremely intense.

Set-tle (for)
v.
1. To accept in spite of incomplete satisfaction.

The words listed above are a timeline of a typical woman's romantic imperatives. This list was verified by a lesbian so it must be correct.

The women my own age are divided between the desperation and settling stages, and neither sounds very appealing.

Moving to progressively younger women I pause briefly at the desperate ones, though most of those are already in a doomed relationship, though they don't know it yet.

Next we find the bitter group.

No thanks.

Finally we come the good ones - the realistic ones.

These are the women that have gotten over their innocent theories about life and romance and have also successfully made it through their search for ThePerfectMan.

The realistic ones are the smallest group. They are also the most sought-after.

This sucks for me, but at least I know it.

I'm in a realistic phase myself.

Friday started out as a waste of time.

I wanted to appear less creepy to LaptopGirl - especially afer last night's ramblings - so I decided to spend at least the first half of the night at Hooter's drinking Newcastle with my cousin Jeff.

There were several things wrong with that plan.

First, Jeff wasn't even at Hooter's. He was at home apparently having a fight with his weedeater.

Second, Hooter's was out of Newcastle.

This pissed me off. The only place in the area where I can get Newcastle on tap and they were out. I ended up having a glass of water with my cold french fries and burnt burger and left pretty disgusted with the whole place.

So instead of getting to Rich O's fashionalbly late I got there a little after 8:00. Again.

Getting there that early in the night presents some challenges. I cannot drink my normal allotment of a couple of strong beers and a few weaker ones. I have to pace myself.

Tonight I chose to drink only strong beers, but to sip them and make them last.

Anyway, when I first arrived Rich O's was dead. I saw ExBartender, but didn't really talk to him. I sat at the island with DooRagGirl's husband for a while and had a couple Great Lakes 15th Anniversary Ales.

Yummy.

Oh yeah, I hadn't been there 10 minutes when LaptopGirl called to tell me that she'd be there at 10:30. This was significant because it meant that I could not allow myself to leave no matter how boring it was.

Once DooRagGirl's husband left I moved to the living room area where I was joined by a couple I didn't know. ProbableLesbian and CluelessSuitor turned out to be pretty good people. ProbableLesbian in particular seemed very nice, and she also helped to pass the time while all the whippersnappers talked about transformers and other things I'm too old to remember.

At one point I had a Fischer's Amber Ale. This was the only French item on Rich O's bottled list. I ordered it because I thought it might be similar to the frenchy beer from the Two Brothers Brewery I'd enjoyed so much in the Spring. Well this wasn't anything like the Two Brothers ale but it was still quite delicious. Had I known then what I know now I would have been drinking this all along.

At around 10:00, a half-hour before LaptopGirl was scheduled to arrive, one of her ex-boyfriends joined us in the living room area. I was a little concerned because I couldn't remember if I was supposed to be mad at him or not. As it turned out everything was fine.

LaptopGirl arrived and was very cute and, because of ExBoyfriend's presence, I became invisible. This was okay, though, because ProbableLesbian and I were able to pass the time by talking about how old the rest of the group made us feel.

MisunderstoodGirl joined us after a while, further lowering the average age of the group.

Wow.

All of a sudden I'm very conscious of the fact that I'm rambling. I need to stop now.

But wait!

On the way home I was quite surprised to see VigilanteGirl still working. I talked with her for a few minutes - being careful to not freak her out again. Once I was satisifed that she was no longer scared of me I was able to go home.

(cross-posted to the pool 'blog)

Every now and then I do a search for "barenada" just to see what comes up.

Occasionally I'm pleasantly surprised with what I find.

Take these Gems from the Billiards Digest community board:

UWPoolGod

You guys ever go to http://www.barenada.com/index2.shtml
and check out his daily banter on which beer he tried last night. Pretty funny. And some good pool vids.

Aboo

That's a very cool site I've never seen anyone bank like that in my life... and he says he can't compete on the upper level in the DCC. Wow. That's all I've got to say. Wow.