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.

Something has died in my Monte Carlo.

Because of all the rain I haven't driven it for several weeks, but Friday morning I decided to take drive it to work.

Bad Idea.

There's the faint, but unmistakable, odor of rotting meat coming fom somewhere in the car.

My brief inspection couldn't locate the source. The only real clue is a little bit of seat insulation laying on the floor of the trunk.

Today I will perform a much more detailed inspection.

Please ignore the previous entry.

I think I might be drunk.

hic.

ob-sta-cle
n.
1. That which opposes, stands in the way of, or holds up progress.

hin-drance
n.
1.
a. The act of hindering.
b. The condition of being hindered.
2. That which hinders; an impedenance.

Friday was a strange night. All the way home from Rich O's I tried to figure out what made it so different from all the other nights I've spent there.

I figured it out.

I ended the night in a good mood.

It took me a while to figure this out because it was such an unusual feeling for me.

The night was, despite factors that could have caused stress, quite relaxing.

So anyway, first off I got to Rich O's very early. I'd left home at 7:30 hoping to catch VigilanteGirl at work, but alas she wasn't there so I got to Rich O's well before 8:00.

I did no experimentation with beer, prefering to stick with my regular indulgences. I had two NABC Beak's Bests, an Alaskan Smoked Porter, and a Guiness, in that order.

Keeping me company tonight were LaptopGirl, CoffeeDude, TallLady, and GrammarNazi and her husband.

For most of the night LaptopGirl and I talked about various fluff that I'd rather not broadcast to the world.

That brings up a good point.

I write this thing for myself - not for anyone else.

Because I write for myself I think I should write mostly ABOUT myself and what's going on with me and in my head.

At times, just to keep things in context, I need to mention things that are going on with my friends, but lately I've been feeling a little guilty whenever I do that.

I mean, it's not the world's business that one friend of mine is getting a divorce. It's also not anyone's business that another friend is contemplating a move, or is in trouble at work.

As I get to know these people better I get a desire to protect their privacy that I didn't feel before. Making up nicknames for the people I write about can only go so far, and lately I've felt the need to go a little farther - to be less candid and less specific in my entries.

All of this new secrecy can make for some pretty boring entries I know, but since the only intended audience is myself I'll try to deal with it.

Back to Friday, such as it was.

LaptopGirl and I spent most of the night sitting in the living room area with the other aforementioned regulars. I got a strange vibe from LaptopGirl that was difficult to identify. Once I did identify it I was quite pleasantly surprised.

I mattered to her.

It amazes me how much that little realization meant to me - and how much it still does. I've spent so much time these past several months waiting for the inevitable InvisibityFactor to kick in that to realize that tonight it wouldn't come was like a kick in the teeth.

In a good way though.

At some point during the recent past I seem to have been promoted, in LaptopGirl's mind, from mere acqaintance to friend.

That word, "friend," can often be a bummer. Guys get placed into the "friend zone" and there's no escape - no matter what the guy may actually want.

This time I'm actually okay with it. I'd absolutely rather be in the friend zone than the acqaintance zone. Any higher promotions would be fraught with peril and I know it.

Would it be worth the risk? Perhaps.

Do I expect that opportunity? Not at all. And I'm okay with that.

I'm 39 years old. I've been through a spectacularly failed marriage, and a handful of other serious relationships, none of which have worked out.

This is quite weird to be writing this, but nobody in my life - not my ex-wife, any of my old girlfriends, or any of the women I've had crushes on - have ever occupied my thoughts the way LaptopGirl does.

Something about her just fascinates me, and I catch myself thinking about her several times each day.

Not all of these thoughts are good ones. I've become quite perturbed by the InvisibilityFactor several times. Some of her opinions are so different from my own that I think we must be from different planets. Her not recognizing my voice on the phone last weekend bothered me much more than I'd have thought it would.

It's very strange. I've had crushes before, but they've all had at least some element of hope. In this case I've never had any indication whatsoever that there could ever be the slightest interest in me.

But I don't care.

This fascination, not quite a romantic one, not quite a platonic one, has kept my mind more occupied than it's been for a long long time.

I'm writing this entry on a Friday night - actually early Saturday morning - and I've suddenly become timid. I found out tonight that LaptopGirl has indeed checked out my 'blog, so there's a decent chance that she'll read this entry as well.

Perhaps I should delete it.

Don't want to scare her off after all - to make her think I'm some kind of stalker or something.

But that's the thing; there's nothing to be scared off from. I'm really content with the way things are. I'm not scheming for anything more.

That just blows my mind.

How could I meet such a beautiful and intelligent woman and NOT want more?

Perhaps it's because I've been hurt several times in the past. Perhaps it's things like the InvisibilityFactor. Perhaps I just know better than to try to become involved with someone so different from me.

Perhaps I'm just kidding myself and I don't know what I want at all.

I don't know, but I'll keep enjoying the ride while it lasts.