I think I'll go ahead and write this now, Monday evening. So I can still use the present tense. Using the past tense is going to suck. There's still a chance that this entry will go to waste. I would love to waste this entry. He will think it's hilarious, that I put all this effort into fiction.

My friend WomanRepellant is in the hospital. That's why he didn't call me Saturday morning like we'd arranged. He was in the hospital then, and he's in the hospital now, And he will never leave the hospital, except in a bag.

Because, you see, he is dying.

He. Is. Dying.

Present tense. That's important.

Don't even bother asking me why he's in the hospital. I won't tell you. It's probably none of your business, and I want to respect what privacy he has left regarding all this.

I went there today, to the hospital. I wasn't going to go, but LaptopGirl talked me into it. She was right, of course, but I still shouldn't have gone. Not as far as I went. Not all the way into that room.

I stood outside that room for what seemed like hours. I could see, through the window, some old man on the bed, his face turned away from the hallway in which I stood. Unconscious, thankfully. I wish I would have been.

It wasn't until I actually steeled myself enough to go into the room, and I saw his face, it wasn't until then that I was able to recognize that the old man dying in that bed was my friend. Up until that point, I could kinda pretend to myself that it was all some horrible mistake.

Is my friend. Fuck.

And now that is going to be the last image I have of him. Not sitting at the bar at Sluttopia a couple of weeks ago, laughing about something or other. Not any of the countless times we sat together at Rich O's and made fun of weirdoes and leered at pretty girls. Nope, as my last image of my friend I get to have him on his death bed.

So, I wanted to tell a little story. The story of how he got his nickname.

See, before the nickname WomanRepellant was chosen, I'd been having a very tough time coming up with a good nickname for him. I mean, he was rapidly becoming one of my best friends, but nothing I tried seemed right for him. I tried stupid nicknames like WhiteHairDude and a few others, but none of them worked. None of them fit.

Then, one day in August 2005, I was sitting at Rich O's talking with HatGirl. I'd only known HatGirl for a couple of weeks at that time. I didn't even know she had a boyfriend. I had already developed a major crush on her, and being able to sit and talk with her that day after work was a very pleasant surprise.

I wrote this, back then.

I was really having a hard time keeping from jumping into HatGirl's eyes and swimming around, but after a while this dude showed up and sat with us and HatGirl left pretty much immediately. Just a coincidence I'm sure. Not.

He thinks it's a very funny nickname. Much better than the ones I've given other people.

Present tense.

Had a quick meal with HatGirl this evening, after I left the hospital. We talked about our friend. She remembers that day as well. Funny how that one brief moment has forever tied the three of us together.

Also on the way home I bought a bottle of Avery The Reverend. It's one of his favorite beers, and one of mine as well. I'll save it. I'll save it until the present tense is no longer appropriate and then I'll pour two glasses, and then my friend WomanRepellant and I will drink it together. And raise a few toasts to the pretty girls.

Future tense. Even better.

Yesterday was the memorial for my nephew and his friends. Today was the anniversary of the accident. I guess I don't have a lot to say about that. Maybe it's all been said, or maybe I just don't have it in me.

But I'm so proud of my sister. Both of my sisters.

---

Today I stood in a horrible place, outside a horrible room, and I talked to a beautiful girl. And she was almost enough to make me forget where I was, and why I was there.

NormalGirl and I may have fizzled before we had a chance to catch fire, and we may never spark again. But, damn, it was nice to see her. To be distracted for a little while.

---

I've spent dozens, maybe hundreds of hours sitting on my swing and glaring at my phone. Trying to will it to ring. Tonight, I sat on my swing and willed my phone to stay silent.

The Cock & Bull was even more crowded that it had been earlier. I remembered that I'd never been in the place on a weekend, and I began to fear that they might have a stupid live band. That would have sucked.

I sat at the bar, ordered a bottle of OTR (72), and was almost immediately molested by some girl sitting next to me. I have never been pawed like that in my life - at least not while remaining fully-clothed. So, that was weird.

The emails and the text messages and the phone calls continued, and I continued to be amazed that my battery was lasting as well as it was. I guess I ended up spending about 1/2 of my time inside sitting at the bar getting molested, and the rest of the time I was outside talking on the phone.

WeirdGirl called just to say she misses me. Awww.

Here's a bit of advice to you women out there. If you ever find yourself needing to break through any resistance I might have, just lick my ear. Works every time.

Anyway, I ended up having three more OTRs (108). The bartender who looks like AlliGirl told me that they sometimes get OTR on tap. So I gave her my number so she could call me the next time that happens. I will definitely make the drive up there again.

I also had a glass of yummy Delirium Tremens (1404) so I could raise a toast to a friend of mine who's having a tough time these days.

At midnight or so, I somehow found some vestige of resolve, and I left GropingGirl with her friends. I walked down to the conveniently located White Castle, had some cheeseburgers, then went back to the hotel.

Then Sunday morning I drove home. It was nice to get away, if only for one night.

You know what's worse than screams?

He stays down there almost all of the time lately. Down in the dungeon of my mind. The doors are not locked. He's free to come and go as he pleases. But he seems to prefer it down there. Or, at least, he prefers the darkness to the light.

His screams were so loud. They cut straight through me.

I feel for him. I really do. After all, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. Faced with that which neither of us could survive alone, the two of us together somehow pulled through. An unbeatable team bound, for a while at least, by parallel goals.

To endure. To live. To persevere. To exist.

To wait.

His screams were so piercing, but at least they showed strength. A will to keep trying, to keep fighting. His screams reminded me of those long-ago days and nights when we screamed together in horrible harmony.

You know what's worse than screams?

All I hear now is soft sobbing. And it keeps getting softer.

The Cock & Bull was pretty crowded. Much more than it had been in April. I guess warm weather will do that to bars. Except Rich O's, for some reason.

My plan had been to just sit at the bar and drown my sorrows all night. I got a decent start, with a couple bottles of yummy Moerlein OTR (60), but by the time those were gone it was only 6:00 or so, and I recognized that I should probably go to some other places.

The first other place I went to was the Hofbrauhaus. I was there for about 1.7 seconds. There was extremely LOUD POLKA MUSIC and there was also not a single empty seat in the house - not even at the bar.

So I walked down the hill, and over the floodwall, to the Beer Sellar barge. While I was walking there, the stupid Sun came out from the clouds, and the weather went from very pleasant to unbearably fucking hot and humid. Plus, the stupid Beer Sellar didn't seem to have any air conditioning. Just a big fan that did nothing but stir the humid air around, so it felt like I was going swimming.

I was sweating like the proverbial whore in church.

I had myself a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (567) and then some Diet Cokes while I tried to acclimate myself to the humidity. Seriously, the place made me long for the old days I spent in New Orleans. This place was New Orleans with twice the humidity but thankfully none of the smell.

After my third Diet Coke or so, I realized that it was stupid to be there, so I drove back to the hotel, and then I walked back to the Cock & Bull.

My phone keeps ringing. I'll finish this later.

My original plan, such at it was, had been to leave town after work Friday. I think it was Tuesday or Wednesday that I decided that I really needed to get away for a day or two. I needed to get away and, more importantly, other people needed me to be away.

But then, Thursday night, I talked to WomanRepellant. He was having some trouble with his computer, and we arranged that he'd call me Saturday morning so I could come and take a look at it.

So that kept me local for Friday night, and I'm glad that it did, because part two of Friday night was fantastic.

Well Saturday morning came and Saturday morning went without a call from my friend. He'd had a photo shoot scheduled for that morning, and he was supposed to call me at 10:00 or so when it was over. I tried to call him at 11:30. The phone just rang and rang. Change of plans, I figured.

So I found myself free to leave, and even eager to leave, but I didn't have a destination in mind. I chose Covington on a whim, more or less. I'd been there in the Spring and enjoyed it. I guess some deep recess of my brain might have thought that I might run into EyesGirl again. And I definitely knew I'd be able to have some Moerlein OTR. So, Covington it was.

The drive up was uneventful. I'd been hoping for some email or telephone companionship, but I think I screwed that up back in July. Oops.

After I'd arrived, and checked into a hotel room that was much more expensive than I'd hoped, about fifty metric butt-tons of drama ensued back home. I basically spent the rest of the day and night talking or typing into my Blackberry, trying to either ease or repair or at least keep up with various drama. So that was the context behind everything else I did Saturday night.

My hotel was conveniently located with a Skyline Chili across one street and a White Castle across another. It was also within walking distance of the tourist section of Covington. So, after a quick meal at Skyline, I walked up to the Cock & Bull bar. I'd gone there in April, so I supposed it was my Official Covington Bar or something.

And now I guess I'll have to continue this entry later.

I imagine people coming to this blog today, the ones who know me personally, and they're asking me the unspoken question, "Dave, what are you writing about all the drama from yesterday?"

And my silent response is, "Which drama? There were two distinct instances. Doesn't matter though, because I'm not writing shit until things settle. Maybe not even then."

So there.

Anyway, I'm back home from Covington. More on that later.

Once there was this guy. He really liked this girl, and he invited this girl do to everything with him. I mean everything.

Also, there was this other guy and this other girl. They'd been married for twenty-five years.

The moral of this story is that somewhere, between taking a shit and going on a cruise, there is a sweet spot. One at which invitations are perfectly acceptable and perhaps even expected. Maybe even welcomed.

But I'll be damned if I have any idea what that sweet spot might me. It's there somewhere, though.

Anyway, I think I'm going to Covington now. By myself.

A few minutes later I was feeling a zillion times better.

I was sitting in LaptopGirl's dining room (see the comic two entries ago), drinking a skunked beer, and finally getting to see LaptopGirl. It had been one day short of five weeks since I'd last seen her, a time period also known as an asstillion lifetimes.

I will concede that it should have been stressful for me. But, compared to the discussions going on at Rich O's, it wasn't stressful at all. Plus it was just a huge relief to get to see LaptopGirl again. It was all so non-stressful, in fact, that I nearly fell asleep.

The skunked beer I had? It was a new beer for me.

Molson Golden

(bottle) Clear fizzy yellow. Thin head that hung in there pretty well. The aroma was of armpits and feet - it was skunked. Mouthfeel was thin. No flavor to speak of, though there was a hoppy sharpness when it first entered the mouth. No detectable finish except a coating skunkiness. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

BigWheelGirl was there also, and she and LaptopGirl and I hung out and talked for a couple of hours. At one point LaptopGirl wanted to go to Rich O's. BigWheelGirl didn't want to go, and I already had everything I needed right there, so we didn't go.

At one point I went out to my car and got a bottle of good beer. LaptopGirl and I split a bottle of Schlenkerla Marzen (4697), and I think BigWheelGirl had water or something.

Once LaptopGirl's son (LaptopSon?) woke up crying, I was ushered out pretty quickly, so I came home. I sat on my swing and had another bottle of Marzen (4714) and thought about good things.

Then I remembered that I hadn't eaten anything all day so I went to Taco Bell.

The stress level started rising as soon as I left my house. And it grew and it grew and it grew until I left Rich O's.

It was still too soon. It was still too much. I'd thought it I might be okay with being there at night, but I was wrong.

Anyway, I got there at 8:30 or so. It wasn't too crowded, though what crowd there was had occupied those places where I'd wanted to sit. Places where I could eat and maybe be ignored for a while. I didn't want to get into any conversations. I certainly didn't want any damn encouraging words. I just wanted to wait for LaptopGirl. She being the entire reason I was risking my sanity by being there in the first place.

What I ended up doing was sitting on the sofa for a bit. I said hello to TremensGirl and MusicalYuppieDude. At about the time I ordered an NABC Flat Tyre (1029), this one dork left the bar so I moved up there and ordered a little pizza. But then this other dork left the sofa so I moved back there. I'd decided that having my back to the entrance probably wasn't the most brilliant thing for me to do.

Then the subject started being discussed by those around me, and I felt myself starting to freak out.

Then LaptopGirl emailed me that she wasn't coming to Rich O's after all. So I paid my tab and left, donating my little pizza to whoever might want it.