First, I do want to. And I think it's time. But I can't. I was asked to never do it, remember?

---

Monday I finally had the water pump replaced in the Monte Carlo. So now I can actually drive it again. This is beyond cool to me. I even drove it to work today, risking door-dings in the parking garage. Once I get the exhaust repaired (it's a little LOUD) then there'll be nothing wrong with the car except that its owner still won't really be cool enough for it.

---

One of these years I should probably fix the gutter that was torn loose in January.

---

I think I want to go back to Covington this weekend. I seriously doubt that I'll do any such thing, because last time I checked, Covington wasn't located inside Rich O's.

---

On Monday I got to hang out with NormalGirl and RahRahGirl for a while after work. They were dressed to the nines (whatever that means) in sexy slinky black dresses. I don't think I did a very good job of averting my gaze, especially regarding NormalGirl.

---

I've felt myself starting to lose faith in one of my friends. Not that I ever really had any reason to think that I could trust him completely. But lately I've become a little convinced that he'd betray me in a heartbeat. So, I'm getting a little preemptively angry at him. I'm being stupid, I know.

---

Oh yeah, I managed to poke myself in the eye or something last night while I was sleeping. It's been hurting me all day, and it's a lovely shade of red. I hope it doesn't rot and fall out, but if it does then I'm going to get a glass eye that's brown. That way I can walk around with two differently-colored eyes and see if anyone notices.

---

It's midnight and I still have 3/4 of this Marzen (3591) left in my glass. I'd better get to drinking it.

---

I still have better topics that I want to write about. I still can't motivate myself to write, though, so crap like this is all you get for now.

Okay, I'm back now. Heartfelt thanks go out to the zero people who noticed that I was gone. I get tears in my eyes when I think about all zero of you.

Anyway, I was in Covington, KY, which is across the river from Cincinnati and next to Newport. It was for a work thing, a series of meetings that lasted from 8:30 until 5:30 Wednesday. I drove up Tuesday after noon and spent the night.

After I'd checked into the stupid Marriot, I set out on foot in search of food and beverage. I walked from my hotel, at the river's shore, about 18,000 blocks South. All I found were pawn shops and cash advance places. So, not the best part of town, I figured. Next, I shifted a couple of blocks to my left, turned around, and trekked back towards the river. Still, pawn shops and cash advance places, but now with some strip joints thrown in for good measure.

I got back to the stupid Marriot, intending to get in my truck and drive to Newport. I know they have beer there. But, at the hotel, I got to talking to the doorman, and he told me where the touristy section of Covington was.

Remember, back two paragraphs ago, I said that I'd shifted to my left. Well it turns out that I should have shifted to my right. Because to the right was where all of the bars were.

The guy told me it was a two-minute walk. It was more like a zillion years, but I finally made it there. By the time I arrived in the touristy area, I was dying for Newcastle. So I went into the first likely-looking place, called the Cock & Bull.

I'd been hoping to find a Guinness, maybe a Newcastle. I most certainly hadn't dared to hope that I'd find Delirium Tremens, or Unibroue Maudite. Or a bottled beer selection that even MrPopular might envy. It was a very nice place, and I stayed there for hours.

Because I had fish and chips for my late lunch, I was bound by both honor and propriety to have a Newcastle (9367). The glasses were only 16 ounces, but they were unchilled. I was very happy. Even though I thought the fish kinda sucked.

My next beer was a Delirium Tremens (1225), and I spent some time talking to this one dork who wanted Beck's and would settle for nothing else.

Next, I tried something new to me.

Moerlein O.T.R.

(bottle) Clear dark orange. Kind of a weird color. No head to speak of. An aroma of malts and hops that was pretty enticing. Medium mouthfeel. The flavor was extremely good. The hops seemed to be a mixture of the piney kind (which I hate) and the flowery kind (which I love) and there was also a strong malty component to the flavor. Definitely very interesting and balanced and drinkable. I'd love to try this on tap someday. Yummy.

I ended up having three bottles of the OTR (36), getting progressively stupider as I went.

Just one example of my stupidity: I was talking for a couple of hours to this one cute girl about my reason for being there and the upcoming derby and beer and whatever else. It was a good conversation, I will call her EyesGirl, because she had two of them. Anyway, at one point she suggested that we go to some of the other bars in the area. Because I'd told her that I was only in town for one night, she said she wanted to show me a good time.

And not in a hooker way, I don't think. In a I'm a nice girl but I'll be naughty with you way.

So, naturally, I told her that I was seeing somebody. Even though I'm clearly not seeing anyone.

EyesGirl left shortly afterwards. Probably went home to masturbate, the poor thing.

I ended up convincing my boss, in town for the same work thing, to come up to the Cock & Bull and have dinner. I had another Delirium Tremens (1235) and then I talked my boss into giving me a ride back to the stupid Marriot.

Then today I had meetings then I drove home.

I need to see if Rich O's can get the O.T.R. there. I think people would like it, but mostly I'd just like to have it again without having to drive to Covington. It's kind of a cross between Rogue Dead Guy and Three Floyd's Gumballhead.

I went to Rich O's after work today. More out of habit than any particular desire to observe Pizza Day or have a beer. But it's cool that I went in, because after a few sips of Upland Wheat (126), I saw that NABC had tapped their Old Lightning Rod a couple of days early. I traded the rest of my Upland for a pint of the Old Lightning Rod (250) and it was very good as always.

---

Today I counted up the vacation days that I've used since May, when our fiscal year started. I've still got a buttload of days left to take. To help rectify this situation, I'm taking this Thursday and Friday off. So, because Monday is a company holiday, I'll get a five-day weekend. What will I do with this five-day weekend? Probably not a damn thing.

I need to take a week off sometime this Spring and go somewhere. Las Vegas is my obvious first choice, but I'm also thinking about maybe going up to Seattle instead. I haven't been there since 2002, and I find myself thinking about that place, and those people, quite often.

---

Oh yeah, this morning it snowed like a motherfucker for about an hour. Flakes the size of 50-cent pieces. It was quite pretty, and I got a little excited that maybe it would accumulate. But alas, it melted on contact with the ground. I'm not a huge fan of snow, but I detest cold weather, and snow at least makes it bearable for me. They're saying that it might snow here Thursday, but I suspect that's just a ploy to get us to watch the evening news.

---

Funny, I thought I'd have more to write about tonight.

So, I'm back. Got back yesterday evening.

I've been struggling for a week now. Trying to decide what I was going to write about my trip. Besides the usual stuff, I mean. Like the yummy beer I drank, and the boring conference I endured, and the video poker I played.

But there were other things. Things which I haven't quite figured out. What happened? Why did it happen? What will happen next? Will anything happen next? Do I want anything to happen next?

And then, then there was some crap that happened back here, while I was gone. And I ask myself the same five questions.

I don't want to lie, here, in this blog. But neither do I think that telling the whole truth would be a good thing. And I don't particularly want to guess.

Hence, my struggling.

---

Anyway, last night was much more normal for me. I went to Rich O's, that decision having been made for me by the simple fact that LaptopGirl was thinking about maybe going to Rich O's.

It was a nice night. I took it easy on the beer, though.

I totally forgot to mention that I've booked my next trip to Las Vegas. After Thanksgiving I'll be there for a week, for the same conference I attend every year. It's always been at The Rio, but now they're moving it to The MGM Grand. This is probably a good thing, especially since The Tilted Kilt will surely be gone from The Rio by then, but it will still feel pretty weird. I think I'm actually feeling a little ambivalent about the whole trip.

I wonder if I should try to call StupidGirl. I guess I've got almost three months to decide.

---

I thought I'd have more to write, but I guess not. Except that women are strange. And everybody already knows that.

The stewardess for the flight to Philadelphia provided not just one, but two sources of amusement concern for me.

First, there had been a bit of confusion behind me. People were sitting in other peoples' seats. These things happen, but I guess they got a little loud.

Then the guy with the window seat next to my aisle seat showed up. I moved to stand up and get out of his way, and the stewardess came running up to us. Not walking quickly, professionally, and with purpose. Fucking running.

So I've got the dude who needs the seat, standing in the aisle next to my seat. And I've got the stewardess standing about an inch in front of him. There was nowhere for me to go. The stewardess locked eyes with me and asked, "Do we have a problem here?"

"I was going to stand up and get out of this guy's way so he could sit down," I replied. "But you're totally blocking me from doing so."

For about 6 hours, absolutely nothing happened except that the stewardess kept her eyes locked onto mine. It was probably the creepiest six hours of my entire life. I fully expected her to call security and have them remove me from the plane and stick fingers into my ass. Then, finally, her meds kicked in or something. She said, "Foin" and turned around and walked back to the front of the plane.

Foin?

Yep, that's what she said. And that leads me to the second item of concern.

The chick was some kind of a freak. Or maybe a pod person. Or maybe a robot with a faulty language module.

At first I thought that it was just my imagination. But I've since talked with some of my coworkers, who shared the same flight, and they all noticed it.

The stewardess had a strong cockney accent, but only some of the time.

What's up with that?

Like, she'd say things like, "Ploise stoi yoi troi toibles to their loicked poisition, and ensure that your seatbacks are fully upright." And, when we had to sit on the tarmac for a half an hour for some stupid reason, she said, "Ladies and gentleman, I'll be doing a quick beverage service in a couple of minutes. Beer and woine are foive doillars. Soida and woiter and joices are coimplimentoiry."

Just freaking weird.

Okay, I'm leaving now. Going to have lunch with NotHideousGirl, then go to the airport for my fun-filled Philly week.

I might not post for a while.

I just came in from sitting on my swing outside. I was going to sit out there until I managed to think of something entry-worthy, but it's a little too chilly, so I came back in.

---

At Rich O's today after work (Rogue Chocolate Stout (1826)) I had an idea. What if I took all of the penis-enlargement spam that I get and bought everything they offer?

A couple of inches from a special diet, four inches from pills, an additional 20% from some stretching gizmo. And so on. What if I could add them all up?

I bet that, six months and a couple of thousand dollars later, I could sit at Rich O's and drink beer all day, but I'd continue to get paid because my dick could still be sitting at my desk at work doing my job.

It would be win-win!

---

There's a new stray cat outside. It's a very light gray color. I have named it Ghost, in case I ever see it again.

---

WeirdGirl is being a little mean to me. But I guess that's better than being nice to me. Because nice would remind me of what I'm missing.

---

Not that it really bothers me.

It's kinda funny. Not too long ago I kept trying to convince myself that I was a normal happy person. That deception never worked. These days I catch myself trying to get in a bad mood, and that doesn't work either.

---

Today, for some reason, I thought about this one kid from my youth. Not a friend by any stretch of the imagination, just a kid who lived next to my cousins for a while. So we were kinda forced to play with him sometimes. He was a real dick. He's probably in jail or dead by now. Or he's a billionaire. Man, what a dick that guy was!

---

There's something that keeps becoming more of a possibility all the time. Something that I should really be more worried about than I am. But I'm not worried about it very much at all. This may end up biting me in the ass.

---

I can't believe it's 1:00 AM and I'm still up. This is pretty stupid. Especially since I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn again tomorrow. I'm giving NotHideousGirl rides to work as her car woes continue unabated. It's nice to feel useful though.

---

If you ever want to see something funny, go to Rich O's when Roger is there and say something about how 8664.org wants to tear down I-64 in Louisville.

---

I was watching Big Brother tonight (shut up, I like it) and I got to thinking about a Rich O's reality show in that same vein. I don't think I'd be the first regular evicted, but I bet I'd be in the first five. I know without a doubt who the first evictee would be. And I'm pretty sure I know who'd end up winning it all. At least I know who I'd vote for.

---

I'll be gone all next week. If it's anything like the last time I went to Philadelphia, I won't have any time for anything but work. So I might go as many as five days without posting anything. The world will probably keep turning without my input.

---

Now it's 1:18 AM and I'm still up. I am stupid. I think I'll go to bed as soon as I finish this Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (2085)

I was pretty fucking tired when I finally got home last night. Way more tired than I should have been, I think. I mean, the switch back to EDT gave me three bonus hours, so it was suddenly like I'd gotten up at 6:00 instead of 3:00. And I'd had at least three hours of sleep the night before, so WTF?

If I could sleep on airplanes it would be different. But I can't. All I can manage is to sort of zone out for a few seconds until my head falls and then I almost break my neck jerking my head back upright.

So, when I finally got home, I was very tired. While waiting for my luggage, I called my sister to let her know I'd arrived safely. I emailed RockGirl and WeirdGirl with the same message. I texted NotHideousGirl a few times. She wanted me to meet her at The Pub in Louisville. I declined. She called me gay.

So I went home and took a nap for a couple of hours.

I ended up going to Rich O's at about 10:00. TremensGirl moved from the throne so I could sit there. It was nice of her, but I didn't ask her to move. People all think I'm an asshole about that chair.

Still feeling pretty tired, all I had to drink was a glass and a half of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1932). I traded a few more text messages with NotHideousGirl. Most of her messages were incomprehensible to me. I asked if anyone around me spoke Woman, and some of the girls tried to translate, but they didn't understand NotHideousGirl's particular dialect of that odd language. I think it's known as the drunk dialect.

Anyway, at one point I misinterpreted one of her messages as saying that she was at Mac's, so I undertook the short drive over there to see her. But the doorman said she hadn't been in. Then I talked to her on the phone and learned that it wasn't Mac's she was at, it was this Third Street Dive place over in Louisville.

So I came home and typed up a couple of blog entries. NotHideousGirl texted me that I suck. I went to sleep.

As I write this, I'm an hour into a three-hour layover in Dallas. I don't really mind it though. Truth be told, I kinda like layovers.

These are the rarest of times for me. These are the times when I get to completely disassociate myself from my life and all its obligations and expectations and assorted bullshit. I get to do nothing, feel nothing, be nothing.

For the next two hours, I get to be LayoverGuy. It's like I just popped into existence for a little while, and I only exist in the here and the now. DFW, 06/15/07, 1300 CDT.

For LayoverGuy, there's no haunting past, and there's no threatening future. I don't affect the world, and the world doesn't affect me. Before I got here, and after I leave here, I'll have a destination. An obligation. But not now. Now I have nothing, and I kinda like it.

For the next two hours, I get to be nobody. Not that nobody is a step up or anything, but it's still a nice change.

I know that the expectations and the other bullshit will be there, waiting to ambush me, in a few more hours. Shit, I've already heard some rustling, betraying bullshit's presence. But, for now at least, I can ignore it all. Because, for now at least, I'm nobody.

The conference ended at 1:00 on Thursday, which was quite cool because it gave me some time to attempt to take a nap. It would have been even cooler if the nap had actually happened, but the construction going on in the room above me prevented any Zs from being caught.

I managed to snap a picture of the construction equipment as it was heading to the room above me. How they fit all that shit into one room I'll never know:

After I gave up on sleep, I took my last bottle of Alaskan Smoked Porter down to the race and sports book place. They were perfectly willing to let me use one of their glasses, but they said that some red tape bullshit rule prevented them from opening the bottle. Then this one dude took pity on me and showed me how to open a beer bottle using a lighter. I've already mentioned learning this valuable skill. The Alaskan Smoked Porter (589) was yummy, by the way.

Then I had a Fat Tire (587) and played video poker and glared at my phone for an hour or so. See, I maybe had a date. I wasn't even going to mention it here, in case it didn't pan out. But I had a maybe date with StupidGirl, because my new best friend had told his girlfriend that I was in town, and then his girlfriend had told StupidGirl. She finally called me at 6:00 or so with the excuse that she just got off work.

For those joining me late, I realize that StupidGirl is a terrible nickname. I would change it to SweetGirl, but StupidGirl actually likes her nickname. She says that it gives her a story to tell. So the nickname stays.

Anyway.

StupidGirl and went up to Fremont Street and dicked around there for a while. We were going to have dinner at Main Street Station's brewpub, but they were out of their Triple 7 Porter, and all of their other beers suck. So, in protest, we ate at this Grill Bar Saloon place. I drank Diet Coke, and StupidGirl had some foo-foo thing.

After dinner, we went back to The Strip and took in the volcano at the Mirage and the fountains at Bellagio. Walking down The Strip holding hands with a pretty girl is still one of life's perfect moments for me. I wish I could do it every night. In front of the Bellagio fountains there was much slaking. I think it was all the gushing of the water that gave us the idea. Some lady took our picture slaking in front of the fountains. I gave her my email address so she can send me a copy.

This part is probably going to seem pretty lame, but nothing reportable happened beyond that. I really like StupidGirl, and I'm going to leave it there. Maybe next time I'm in Las Vegas...

Here's some crap I wrote Wednesday night.

Another Las Vegas Wednesday. Another night when I get to realize that it's the last full night I'll have here for months. Another night when I get to wonder if I could have done more with my week. Well, this time it's more like a certainty than a wondering, and it's more like a lifetime than a week. But, that's just my mood right now. It fluctuates, in case you haven't noticed.

I'm sitting at the Tilted Kilt, drinking a yummy Tilted Kilt (656) and just kind of soaking in the place for the last time. See, it's going away. Probably late this Summer. And I won't be back until November, so tonight is the last time I'll sit at this bar. This sucks. This place has been my main escape and distraction during an awful lot of troubled times. Las Vegas just won't be the same for me without it.

Also, I really like the free shows here at The Rio. Here's a crappy picture:

See, that kind of thing almost never happens back at Rich O's. Not even for DaveFest. Plus, it's kinda funny to see five of the gayest guys on Earth, trying to feign interest as they dance/grope five of the hottest girls on Earth.

Much time passes...

I've stayed here at the Tilted Kilt longer than I'd planned, and I've had more glasses of Tilted Kilt (720) than I'd planned, because I've realized that when this bar goes away, it takes this beer with it. This makes me even more sad, hence the staying and the drinking.

Okay fine, I'll write something. I don't feel like it though, so I'm pretty sure that the quality will suffer greatly.

Yesterday, after the conference sessions mercifully ended, I walked down to New York New York. It's a long walk, but it wasn't as bad as I'd expected. I stuck my head in ESPN Zone to see if this one chick was working. She wasn't. I stuck my head in Nine Fine Irishmen to see if this one Hawaiian bartender was working. He wasn't. So I had a slice of pizza for dinner and watched people idiots for a while.

Then I went to Coyote Ugly to shirt-shop for WeirdGirl and BikerGirl. Coincidentally, they're the same size.

Then I walked over to The MGM Grand and dicked around there for a while. I ended up at this little bar where I had a couple draft glasses of Fat Tire (479). Before my second glass of Fat Tire, I had a small sample of something new.

Peroni (5)

(draft) Good head. The color of very pale piss. Aroma is very slight, and of hops. Probably the palest, definitely the most watery, beer I've ever had. I'm rating this as swill only because it's so inoffensive. Otherwise it would get a rating of piss.

As long as I'm in beer-rating mood, I had another new beer at The Freakin' Frog when I was there Monday.

Speakeasy Imperial Wheat (4)

(draft) Clear light amber. Good mound of foam. Smells and tastes like hops and alcohol. Kinda gross, but some people will probably like it.

So, not the best week for trying new beers, I guess.

On the monorail back to The Venetian, there was a hot girl wearing what may be the greatest t-shirt in history:

How dare I wear this fucking shirt in front of your fucking kids?

I wanted to take her picture for my blog, but her boyfriend wouldn't let me. I guess he didn't like the idea of the Internet jerking off to a picture of his girlfriend. Oh, well.

Back at The Venetian, I tried to take a nap. I was not successful, though, because they're doing some kind of construction in the room directly above me. I hate them, whoever they are.

So I took the free shuttle over to The Rio, and to The Tilted Kilt therein. I sat at the bar and waited for the bartender to recognize me. He did, so that was a bit of validation for me. On tap, they had one of my all-time favorites, Pyramid Tilted Kilt. So yay for that.

I spent the next few hours drinking five Tilted Kilts (640). It's so easy to forget just how good that beer is. I feel a little ashamed for doubting its supremacy.

Besides drinking, I spent time talking with the bartender and a few of the waitresses. It was a fun evening. At 11:00 or so I took a cab back to The Venetian and went to sleep.

Monday morning, circadian rhythms forced me awake a little before 4:00, so I played some video poker and drank diet cokes for a few hours. Yes, I rock.

Then I remembered a couple of cool things. First, there's a free shuttle running between The Rio and Harrah's. Second, there's a monorail servicing the strip.

So, guess what I did.

Guess where I am now? I mean now as I write this, not now as you read it.

I'm at The Rio. Yay! One thousand DavePoints for anyone who guessed correctly.

I love The Rio. It's a much better place for someone like me. The Venetian is for millionaires. So I went to The Rio, and I immediately felt better. Just being in the place did me worlds of good. And then, and then I saw something that lifted my spirits to new heights.

The Tilted Kilt is still there! Yay! I'd heard that it might be gone.

They weren't open yet though, so I couldn't go in, and I couldn't quite read the taps to see what was available. I'll be going there Tuesday night though.

---

I wrote the above stuff sitting at The Rio. Now I'm back in my hotel room and it's pretty damn late and I'm wide awake but little hung-over.

I'm hung-over because, when I left The Rio, I went to The Freakin' Frog. First, I took the free shuttle back to Harrah's. Then I bought a three-day pass for the monorail. Then I took said monorail to The MGM Grand. Then I took a cab to The Freakin' Frog.

Their draft list didn't impress me too much today, but I got over it quickly enough, as soon as I confirmed that they had Alaskan Smoked Porter in bottles. They had four bottles left, and I bought all four, and I drank three of them (567).

And that's why I'm a little hung-over.

The fourth bottle is here in my hotel room. I haven't decided if I'm going to drink it this week or if I want to try to figure out a way to get it home.

First of all, if wanting to have sex with Ashley Judd is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

I don't suppose there's much to say about the trip here. Had a layover in Dallas. I think the humidity there was forty-six million percent. I arrived in Las Vegas at 3:00. This is much later than I usually get here, much later then I prefer to get here. I felt like I'd wasted the entire day before I had even started.

After the usual long wait for my luggage, and the very long line for a taxi, I got to The Venetian and checked in.

SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: This pen really sucks. I need to get a new one.

For the next several hours I searched The Venetian and some of the surrounding establishments for a decent beer place. All I found was a bar at TI with Newcastle on tap. This was not ideal because (a) it wasn't where I was staying, (b) it was served at 32.00001 degrees, and (c) Nevada's new anti-smoking laws made it impossible for me to enjoy two of my favorite vices at the same time. So I ended up leaving after two of the slushy Newcastles (5673), and I went back to The Venetian to sulk for a while.

After a dinner consisting of two giant pretzels with cheese (Nutrition First, I always say) I sat at this little bar on the casino floor, where I could smoke, and asked the bartender what bottled beers he had.

"Everything," he replied.

"Oh really?" I said. "I'd like a bottle of Alaskan Smoked Porter, please."

Hey, it was worth a shot.

"Never heard of it," the guy said.

Figures.

So I ended up having a couple bottles of Fat Tire (447). It's a pretty good beer, and I began to feel a little less sorry for myself, and a little more optimistic that I might be able to enjoy myself this week.

At about 10:00, jet-lag kicked in so I retired for the night.

I leave in four hours. I guess it's fairly safe to say that the goal I set for myself yesterday will be accomplished. I'm still in a pretty decent mood and, barring any out-of-the-blue occurences, I'll probably stay that way for a while.

I'm looking forward to the trip, but there is a bit of weirdness rattling around in my head about it. I think that these thoughts are similar to the ones I had back in April when I cancelled Drivel Tour '07. But there's more to it than that. This time, I think that I just don't really see the point of going anywhere. Especially not when I have to come back.

See, I'm not even in Las Vegas yet, and I'm already dreading Friday, when I'll have to come back. That dread will probably end up tainting my entire trip.

I don't really have any firm plans for while I'm there. So any stalkers will just have find me. I'm staying at The Venetian. I'll spend some time at The Rio, at The Tilted Kilt if it's still there. I'll definitely go to The Freakin' Frog, and to ESPN Zone at New York New York. Oh, and the Triple 7 Brewpub up at Main Street Station.

Well, I suppose that I'd better get started with my packing.

Today I was presented with the possibility of something which just might be the most terrible, mind-wrenching thing that could ever possibly happen. I described the horrific scenario in an email to RockGirl.

Now, you have to realize, RockGirl knows me and my frailties better than just about anyone on Earth. There was no doubt in my mind that she would instantly realize the implications and understand the true horrors of this scenario.

So what was her response?

"I think that would be awesome."

Clearly, RockGirl has been abducted by aliens and replaced by some kind of pod-person. I will be writing her local congressman and urging him to start an immediate investigation. Hopefully the real RockGirl's whereabouts can be determined before it's too late.

---

I'm not really sure why, but today I had HairCutLady use clippers on me instead of just scissors like she normally does. My hair hasn't been this short since I got out of the Air Force in 1992. Plus, now I look like I'm about twelve years old.

---

NotHideousGirl wore a skirt today. Of course I checked out her legs. But because I'm a gentleman I told her, before she even stood up, that I'd be checking out her legs. I didn't even try to be sneaky about it. They're nice, by the way.

---

MisunderstoodGirl is writing a screenplay as a Summer project. People she knows are being asked to contribute character ideas to represent themselves. I can't think of a good character for myself. I thought "freelance gynecologist" was a pretty good one, but FutureDude already got dibs on that character. I'm thinking that "professional beer snob" might be the best I can come up with.

---

NotHideousGirl is also considering a screenplay, but all of her characters are girls.

---

Five days from right now I'll be in Las Vegas! Woooohoooo!

---

I have less than five days to either find my testicles, or grow a new pair.

---

I saw a pretty fucking impressive wall cloud today after work. I got really excited about the potential severe weather, but all it did was rain for a while. At least at my house that's all it did. I haven't watched any TV tonight, so maybe there's been death and destruction all around me. That would be just my luck.

---

There was a chick at work today who looked very familiar to me. I think she might have been a girl I had a crush on back in junior high. If I see her again I'll have to ask her.

---

Schlenkerla Marzen (219) is yummy.

---

I kinda think I want to move back to Alaska. Not forever, but for a year or so. I would live in a secluded cabin and be a recluse. It would be cool.

Lunch at Polly's.
        It's comfort food for me.
        Had to sit in the old people section,
                Some kids were at my usual table.

Continued Westward.

Took the scenic route as opposed to the non-scenic route.
        Consists of a ten-mile speedtrap.
                Known as Highway 37.
        HatGirl called me, so that was cool.
                Except that I almost died until I pulled off the road.
                HatGirl!
                        Yay!

Arrived in Derby.
        Also known as where?
        And never heard of it.

River was up pretty high.
        Probably as high as I've seen it down there.
        They had a signpost showing old flood levels.
                So it wasn't really that high at all.
        I should have taken a picture.

Ramsey's Tavern hadn't changed at all.
        Same generic old man at the bar.
        Same generic interchangeble bikers at the tables.
        Same stuffed deer heads on the walls.

They don't have Falls City anymore.
        I guess some things do change.
        The bartender remembered Dad.
                I think she's the one who had a major crush on him.
        Had two Bud Lights.
                Not as gross as I was expecting.
        Had a moment of panic when I saw that I had no phone signal there.
                What if HatGirl had tried to call again?
                        Ahhhhhhhhh!
        So I left.

Took the non-scenic, with-speedtrap route back home.
        Brought back memories of the day I met MixedSignalGirl.
                Which I think was the last time I went to Derby.
        Seeing the disabled car really brought back memories.
        It was a hot girl.
                Scantily-clad.
                With two kids hiding in the shade at the treeline.
                And a husband crouching in the driver's seat.
                        Oh, well.
        They didn't need anymore help.
                Somebody was already going to get some gas for them.
                i wish I'd had some cold sodas for the kids though.
                        They looked miserable.

Back in November I wrote about how I'd been feeling like Southern Indiana had somehow grown giant hands which it was using to push me away. I wrote that it had been a good thing that I was going to Las Vegas, because there's no way I'd have been able to stay where I was. This place was actively rejecting my presence.

That was a new feeling for me. Always before, I wrote, always before I'd been pulled to faraway places. Then, after Las Vegas or Chicago or wherever had loosened its grip on me, I felt free to come home. I even felt like home welcomed me back sometimes.

Yesterday I had an idea for something to do with my four-day weekend. A road trip, but not just any old road trip. An action-packed extravaganza. Drivel Tour '07, I began calling it in my head.

The plan was simple, yet brilliant. I had four days and three nights to kill. I let a couple of cities rattle around in my head, but none seemed quite right. Not quite enough. That's when my brilliance kicked in.

I'd drive south, to Nashville, and spend Thursday night there. Then, Friday morning, I'd drive another couple of hours, and end up in Memphis. Friday night I'd visit some of the touristy areas that I'd so carefully avoided back in 1998, when I lived in Memphis. Maybe I'd even meet up with a fellow blogger and we could swap some of the stories we'd never written about. I've got a zillion of those.

Then, Saturday morning, I'd drive up to St. Louis, and I'd go to that Growler's Pub. They have good beer there. Or maybe back to Laclede's Landing, and that brewpub that I liked, Morgan Street.

Sunday morning I'd have a four-hour drive back home. Four-day weekend spent. Beer drank. Problem solved.

It was a good plan, if I do say so myself. And I do. It might have even been fun. A giant circle of a road trip. I even briefly considered calling it Circle Jerk '07.

Well, it's not going to happen.

WeirdGirl invited me to go on a trip with her and a dozen of her friends. We wouldn't leave until Friday and, since I can't make up my damn mind, the Nashville leg of Drivel Tour '07 is effectively cancelled. And without that first leg, the entire trip is shot.

I seriously doubt that I'll end up going with WeirdGirl. I can't emotionally afford to develop feelings for her, and that's probably what would happen.

Oh yeah, also my sister Dina is having a cookout on Sunday. The thought of starting that day in St. Louis, driving four hours to get home, then spending who knows how much time at my sister's house, well it's exhausting just thinking about it.

Either one of those things - either WeirdGirl's invitation or Dina's cookout - may have been enough to cancel my road trip. But neither of them were really needed.

A part of me knew all along that I wasn't really going anywhere.

What would be the point? What would I accomplish?

Not a fucking thing.

See, Southern Indiana is no longer pushing me away. I'm irrelevant to this place now. I'm not needed here, but neither am I needed to be gone from here. Like I said, irrelevant.

No faraway cities call to me. They have nothing to offer me except disappointment. Though it does seems a little strange to me, that disappointment can still exist even where there are no real hopes or expectations. I guarantee that it does still exist.

This is all pretty much the same reason that I didn't go anywhere for Easter this year. I saw no point in it. There would be no rejuvenation for me. No real relaxation. Nothing but wasted thoughts and wasted days and nights.

Well, I can do all that right here near home. And, right here near home, it's expected that it will all be a waste.

Observant readers may have noticed that I haven't mentioned my Easter weekend trip for a while. JS readers may have noticed that I took down my poll.

Well, here's the deal. I'm not going anywhere.

I have several excuses for staying home. A couple of them might even seem halfway reasonable, to some people. But to me, to me they add up to nothing but a thin coat of paint, trying to cover up the ugly fact that I've given up.

I was just about going to write something about the last few nights, but I changed my mind.

Anything I might write would be either too boring or too cryptic.

Anyway, now I'm driving up to Indianapolis. Just for the night. I'll be coming home tomorrow.

Maybe the unfamiliar surroundings will stir my creative juices.

It's recently come to my attention that I write boring stuff. Especially when it comes to my beer reports. There are, in fact, surprisingly few people who care what I drink when I go to the bar. And even fewer care about where I sit, or who I talk to while I'm there.

So I'll try to be less boring. But I can't make any promises.

Saturday night at Rich O's wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared. The Daytonians who usually overrun the place on the first Saturday of Gravity Head were, apparently, diverted to Columbus. At least most of them were. Only a half-dozen or so made it here to New Albany and, as luck would have it, they were the polite and charming half-dozen.

So that was nice.

Let's see, my first beer was an Avery The Beast (22), and my next two were Koningshoeven Quads (376).

MusicalYuppieDude was on the rag over something or other. Probably some chick, they're all trouble. Too bad they control the world's pussy supply.

I found out that WomanRepellant's mom passed away last weekend. That really sucks. They were quite close, and he'll get my full condolences when I run into him again.

Oh yeah, this one dude ordered, I shit you not, an NABC Community Dark. This is an odd enough thing to do during Gravity Head, but get this - he ordered the thing with a fucking lemon wedge. The obvious yet unstated request - that the bartender also spooge into the guy's glass - was not granted. And for that I'm grateful. Nobody wants to see that. Except for LemonWedgeGuy I guess.

Anyway, as I hinted at a couple of entries ago, when I left Rich O's I went over to see WeirdGirl. I've changed her nickname because, well, because she's weird. I mean, two weeks ago when she found out how old I am, she basically accused me of being a child rapist. Now I guess it's okay. She says it doesn't bother her. I think maybe she gets off on it. Or maybe she figures I'll die in the throes of passion and she'll inherit my kingdom.

Sunday morning I didn't feel like going home. So I decided to go for a drive. I asked WeirdGirl if she wanted to go, but she declined. Fine with me. I needed to do some soul-searching anyway. Needed to try to find myself as I seem to have gotten lost lately.

Well I drove all the way to St. Louis and back, and I never did find myself. I'm a slippery bastard I guess.

June 10th through 15th!

Yay!

It's at The Venetian though, so I have serious doubts that there'll be any good beer. Maybe no beer at all. Probably just foo-foo drinks and wine and champagne, and nothing but caviar to eat.

But I'll get by. I always do.

Vegas, baby!

This used to be a standalone page, but I'm making it a blog entry now because (a) I'm bored and (b) It'll be easier for people to make trip suggestions.

This is just a map showing the states I've been to. States in blue are places I've lived, states shown in red are places I've been to, and states in gray are places I've yet to visit. Of course the goal is to eliminate all of the gray states. Indiana is in white both because I was born there and because it's where I currently live.

The rules I use here are pretty simple. To count as a visit I have to not be at the airport. Driving through a state without stopping doesn't count either. To count as a residence I have to have moved out of my previous residence.

• The furthest West I've ever been: Anchorage, Alaska (149.9 W)


• The furthest North I've ever been: Palmer, Alaska (61.6 N)


• The furthest East in the United States: Portland, Maine (70.26 W)


• The furthest South in the United States: Orlando, Florida (28.5 N)

This is your chance to help shape my destiny. You want to. I know you do. So leave a comment to suggest locations for my upcoming mini-vacations.

Look at the map above. The gray states are those that I'd be most interested in visiting, but I'll consider just about anyplace.

Just keep in mind that I'm talking about three or four days at the most here, so someplace like Honolulu probably wouldn't be a good choice. Most of the West coast will also have to wait for a longer vacation. I don't want to waste two days flying there and back. Long drives are a better option though because I enjoy the driving.

My priorities in selecting a destination, in no particular order:

• Places I haven't been before (either cities or states)


• People I know are there (no unattractive stalkers please)


• Availability of good beer (such as brewpubs or bars with good regional selections)


• Beautiful scenery (mountains and oceans and shit)


• Other tourist attractions (historical and museums and the like)


• Professional baseball games (this affects WHEN I could visit)

(Written Saturday afternoon)

Three hours this time. Stupid Delta.

I'm sitting in the BBC bar at the Cincinnati airport, having a yummy Dark Star Porter (248). It's yummy.

Anyway.

I can still really feel Southern Indiana trying to repel me. I bet the plane used extra fuel as it carried me Eastward. I bet the pilot was concerned.

I am a salmon being forced to swim upstream, but I have no spawning to anticipate.

Back to the grind I go. No choice, really.

At least no choice that I'm willing to make. No chance that I'm willing to take.

Hey, that rhymed!

My Pulitzer awaits.

Update: it ended up being a four-hour layover because of the stupid weather on the East coast.

Update Again: My cats were glad to see me. I guess that's something.

(Written Friday night)

Man, this has been a week of boring entries. But that's okay. It means that there's been no drama stirring up crap in my head.

I suppose that will change though.

It always does.

The conference ended at 11:30 this morning. I didn't stick around to watch them clean up. I took a cab over to The Hard Rock so I could buy a souvenir glass and eat lunch at The Pink Taco. I'm not a huge fan of Mexican food, but I've always loved the enchiladas at The Pink Taco. Plus they seem to have a rule that only drop-dead gorgeous girls can work there. I was surrounded my supermodels and movie stars. So, just like my regular life back home. Not.

After lunch I took a cab over to New York New York. I stuck my head in ESPN Zone to see if PonytailGirl was working. She wasn't, so I went over to Nine Fine Irishmen.

I sat at the bar and the guy asked me, "Smithwick's for lunch?"

That's what I said to him every day when I was here in August. Pretty cool that he remembered.

So I had two Smithwick's (1444) then I dicked around New York New York for an hour or two. I really like that place. It's got style.

After I'd cabbed it back to The Rio I tried a couple of times to take a nap, but it never took.

And now I'm at The Tilted Kilt drinking a Tilted Kilt (526). The plan is to make this a short night because I have to get up at like 3:30 to leave.

Oh yeah, VegasDude finally called me back. He was quite apologetic. I told him not to worry about it.

Deschutes Black Butte Porter (4)

(bottle) Cola color. Roasted malt and caramel aroma. Fairly thin mouthfeel. The flavor was of cola and caramel. Slightly dry finish. Good.

That beer was a nice surprise. They'd had some people in to pitch some beers to the bar, and they'd left an extra bottle, so a bunch of us split it.

Other than that, I had three more pints of Tilted Kilt (560), and I talked with HenPeckedGuy, then at around 10:00 I went up to my room and slept.

This will be my last full night in Las Vegas for a long time. At least six months, maybe a year. The conference ends tomorrow at noon. Maybe I'll go over to the strip then. For tonight, I'll just stick with The Tilted Kilt. I'll take notes.

6:40
I arrive. Some fucker is in my seat. HenPeckedGuy isn't working - some hot girl is behind the bar. I've talked briefly with StupidGirl and ordered a Fat Tire (423).

6:45
This fucker better leave my seat soon.

6:50
This bartender is hot. I hereby dub her HotRioGirl. Believe it or not, the outfits the girls wear here aren't very flattering. Some of the girls can't really get away with wearing them. HotRioGirl can.

6:54
I should eat something. Nothing here ever looks edible though. Except the waitresses.

6:59
A bunch of assholes just came in. They all ordered Sam Adams. What a bunch of sheep.

7:05
I drink too quickly in Las Vegas when the beer is yummy. I'm ordering an Arrogant Bastard (46) to slow myself down.

7:06
HenPeckedGuy is here now.

7:07
Arrogant Bastard is kind of nasty, but I'm sure it'll get better as the glass empties.

7:14
I just saw HatGirl's twin. A little chubby, but still hot. She caught me slobbering at her and she smiled.

7:17
This fucker still hasn't vacated my seat.

7:20
I'm moving to the other end of the bar. It was either that or murder the fucker.

7:23
I've ordered a pizza thingy with no tomato sauce.

7:25
The waitresses here aren't allowed behind the bar. Weird.

7:29
I'm in a strange mood. I'm ordering a heterosexual Pyramid Hefeweizen (16).

7:31
Here's my official review:

Pyramid Hefeweizen

(draft) The color of dirty piss. A decent head and good lacing. Aroma of orange peels. Thin and citrusy flavor and mouthfeel. A touch of grapefruit bitterness at the end. Quite disgusting.

7:35
My pizza thingy is here. It's pretty good. Needs more garlic though.

7:45
Piss time.

7:54
I just checked, and I don't see Bass Pale Ale on my beer page either. So now I know what I'm having next.

8:02
I just made two nerds try the Tilted Kilt Ale, and they liked it enough to order full pints. Yay me!

8:05
HotRioGirl forgot to pour my Bass.

8:08
Finally.

Bass Pale Ale (16)

(draft) Light copper. Good head, good lacing. Whoa. A strong malt and hop aroma, quite dry. Thin mouthfeel but still quite coating. Malt and hops predominate everything. Surprisingly bad.

8:17
Piss time.

8:20
This beer is gross. No wonder a lot of people mix it with Guinness.

8:25
I just drunk-texted HatGirl. I told her about her twin.

8:26
I miss HatGirl.

8:29
There's a new waitress here who looks like Erika from Big Brother. She's hot.

8:33
This isn't working. I'm not slowing down at all. I'm switching tactics and changing to lower ABV beers. Ordering a Guinness (1307).

8:37
Except for the waitresses and HotRioGirl, this place is a sausage-fest tonight.

8:55
Piss time.

9:00
Ordering a Smithwick's (1404). I've been talking to some dude from Ireland, and he got me in the mood for one.

9:20
I am so cut off. Switching to Diet Coke.

9:35
Piss time.

9:54
Still talking to IrishDude. Now I'm thirsty though. Ordering a Tilted Kilt (496).

10:30
I am so cut off. Seriously.

10:35
Piss time.

10:38
Apparently, if you go to France, it's better to butcher their language than to simply admit that you don't speak it. This is according to IrishDude.

10:45
OMG that chick has huge tits!

10:47
IrishDude has left the premises.

10:51
Now two old women from Scotland are here. They just came from the Chippendales show. They are drunk. I'm one to talk.

11:00
Two new dudes are here. I think they're from America of all places. They're cool.

11:04
Dead Guy time (198).

11:12
The American dudes bought my Dead Guy. That was nice, but I'm not putting out.

11:17
The ziggy-zaggy guys are here now. Oh fucking boy.

11:21
Switching back to Diet Coke. I'm so cut off.

11:40
Been talking to a guy from Belgium that I met the other night. He's pretty cool.

11:45
BelgianDude bought me a Newcastle (2758). Fuck.

12:20
Piss time.

12:55
I guess I've drank all the beer in Las Vegas, and they're closing the place down. I'm going to sleep now.

So I had a date last night. Sort of. It was advertised as a date, and it started out like a date, but I don't think it was a date.

I think it was more of an interrogation.

But that's okay. It was still fun. We ate at this seafood place in The Rio. The food was fantastic.

But no slaking took place, and it ended early because she had to go to work.

Anyway, with my newfound winnings, I took a cab to downtown Vegas. Specifically, I went to Main Street Station, more specifically to the Triple 7 brewpub therein.

Usually when I go to downtown Vegas I spend some time dicking around Fremont Street, but it was too cold for that last night. So I got right down to business. The business of beer.

I had three Black Chip porters (153). That beer is world-class. Easily worth the cab fare to get downtown and back. All of their other beers suck, so I didn't see any need to mix things up by ordering anything else.

After my three beers it was still too cold to dick around, so I took a cab back to The Rio and went to The Tilted Kilt.

The place was packed, but HenPeckedGuy managed to find an empty stool for me at the end of the bar. I had a Tilted Kilt Ale (480) and talked to some dude from Belgium for a while. He was drinking a fucking Stella. Yuck.

Then later some pompous doucebag took offense when I laughed out loud at his demand for two orange wedges in his Blue Moon. So I asked HenPeckedGuy if he knew how to make a Heterosexual Blue Moon. That's one without any fruit.

Then I asked if OrangeWedgeGuy could get a little umbrella for his beer.

My Blue Moon (318) was good. The look on OrangeWedgeGuy's face, as he stomped out of the place, was priceless. I bet he went back to his room and cried himself to sleep.

Today after lunch I stopped at this little bar thingy in The Rio, at a video poker machine.

Just to have something to do before the afternoon sessions started.

I'd already used up all my luck the other day, so I figured that I'd lose my $20 daily allocation pretty quickly.

I was playing 3-play deuces wild, a five quarter bet on each hand. If you've never played 3-play before (I hadn't) what is does is it deals you five cards like normal, but your hold cards get duplicated to two other hands. Then you draw for all three hands. It's kinda cool.

So I was about $10 into my $20, and the thing dealt me four deuces. Before the draw, not that that matters. You can't improve on four deuces.

So I won 1000 quarters. $250.

I hit the hold button for the four deuces and watched them duplicate for the other two hands. Then I hit the draw button because you still have to do that.

Well the machine didn't pick that moment to malfunction, to my mild surprise.

I won $750.

Ka-Ching, right?

Well that was my first thought.

My seconds thought was, fuck!

See, if I'd been a man instead of a mouse, I'd have been playing dollar bets instead of quarter bets. If I'd been a man instead of a mouse, I'd have won $3,000.

But wait!

There's more!

That machine also offered 5-play and 10-play modes.

So, if I'd been a man instead of a mouse, and if I'd been a man with big giant barbed-wire balls instead of a regular man, I'd have been playing dollar bets in 10-play mode.

I'd have won $10,000.

Like I said, fuck!

I don't expect much pity here.

Tuesday night, as promised, I did a formal beer comparison instead of just drinking beer.

This certainly slowed me down. I hope you appreciate it.

This is not a competition. So, as David Letterman used to say, Please, no wagering.

I got to The Tilted Kilt at about 8:00. I'd have been there earlier but I had a yummy cajun burger and a yummy Alaskan Amber (2150) at this All-American Grille place first.

HenPeckedGuy was working at The Tilted Kilt. He didn't even bat an eye when I asked for four small servings of four different beers. In fact, he acted like weird people ask him to do strange things every day. It must be some Las Vegas thing.

Once I had my four beers in front of me, along with my notebook, I got down to business.

Appearance
Tilted Kilt: Cloudy brown. Some graininess to the clouding.
Rogue Dead Guy: Kind of a flat copper color. A little cloudiness.
Fat Tire: Bright dark copper.
Newcastle Brown Ale: Very dark brown, almost cola-colored.

Aroma
TK: Yeast and malt.
DG: Malty, and a little hoppy.
FT: Strong malty sweetness.
N: Deep malt. Some hop notes.

Mouthfeel
TK: Slightly thick.
DG: Oily and coating.
FT: Watery and a little drying.
N: Fairly thick, no coating.

Foam (after 10 minutes and a few sips)
TK: No head, no lacing.
DG: 40% thin foam covering.
FT: 100% thin foam covering, great lacing.
N: 10% thin foam, pretty good lacing.

Flavor
TK: Malt and yeast. Sweet.
DG: Malty with a little bite.
FT: Malt and something else. Maybe vanilla.
N: Roasty and sweet, with a bit of a bite.

Finish
TK: Slightly dry, no bitterness.
DG: Coating and sweet.
FT: Slightly dry. Vanishes instantly.
N: Just a hint of a bitter bite at the end.

Aside
This one hot girl says she's dying to know what I'm writing. I wonder what she'd do for a peek.

As I said, this was not a competition. But, if it had been, Newcastle would have won. Newcastle would have been followed by Tilted Kilt, then Fat Tire, and finally Dead Guy.

All are very good beers though.

For the rest of the night I had three pints of Tilted Kilt (464). I did end up showing the hot girl what I'd written. I think she was underwhelmed.

Monday was a long day. The first full day in Las Vegas is always long. My EST ass woke up at 5:30 and refused to go back to sleep so I stayed up.

I did some stuff for work. I ate some breakfast. I caught up on some writing. I basically just dicked around The Rio until noon, then I took the shuttle over to the strip. Then I dicked around on the strip for a while. I'd thought that I might buy a new watch at this place by The Alladin, but all of the watches they had were ugly.

At 3:00 or so, I took a cab over to The Freakin' Frog. I had a yummy Alaskan Amber (2134) with my lunch, then I had another one for dessert (2150).

The bartender was new to me. I liked her because she didn't argue with me when I asked for an unchilled glass - always before it's been an international incident. I liked her even more when she pointed out that they also had Alaskan Smoked Porter on tap. I fell in love with her when she said that it was vintage 1998.

Wowie fucking zowie.

So, guess what I proceeded to drink four of.

Alaskan Smoked Porter is correct.

I had four beautiful and yummy 10-ounce pours (485), and I wish I could have had more. Being a lightweight really sucks sometimes.

Besides the bartender, I talked to the owner for a bit. I've talked to him before, and I can never remember his fucking name. Andy or Matt or Adam or something generic like that.

There was also a guy in a suit who was pretty cool despite his affection for Miller Lite, and an Hispanic guy who drank eight million Bud Lights in an hour then left a $1 tip.

Anyway, after 32 ounces of Alaskan Amber and 40 ounces of Alaskan Smoked Porter, I was a little tipsy. I was also exhausted. So I took a cab back to The Rio and took a nap.

Later, I went down to The Tilted Kilt and had a couple Tilted Kilt Ales (412).

...because I'm finding it difficult to stretch anything out beyond a few sentences.

I think that an implied lie might be even worse than an explicit one. Why would I think such a thing? Well, because an implied lie reveals not only the foolishness of the recipient, but also the cowardice of the liar.

---

I bought a new jacket on Friday, and this morning the snap thingy on the sleeve broke. So my luck may be turning. Yesterday was nice though.

---

When I leave the quiet and solitude of my room, and ride the elevator down, and walk out onto the casino floor, I always smile. It's like I forget where I am, and the lights and the music jolt me back to reality. I love it here.

---

It sucks to not have a camera phone anymore. I did bring my good camera with me, but I don't feel like lugging it around 24/7.

---

It would be cool to bring NotHideousGirl to Las Vegas. We could find an open-mike night somewhere, and she could sing and be discovered and become famous and shit. All thanks to me.

8:00
I was thinking about eating something. Not because I was particularly hungry. Just because I knew I'd be drinking.

I wandered around The Rio for a while, but nothing really jumped out at me, food-wise. Then I had the idea of going to downtown to grab some dinner and a Black Chip Porter at Main Street Station. then I remembered that I was supposed to call SpoonsGirl's brother, VegasDude. I called him and left a message. I guess there's a chance that we could end up downtown sometime this week. He's a guy, so the universe will not implode if he calls me back.

So I went and played three hands of video poker, got a royal flush, and decided to quit while I was ahead.

Now I'm sitting at the bar in The Tilted Kilt, having a Tilted Kilt Ale (348).

8:17
Just used my Blackberry to check the Freakin' Frog website. They always have their current drafts listed there. I see that they currently have my beloved Alaskan Amber on tap!

Yay!

So now I know where I'm going tomorrow.

8:22
The taps for Newcastle and Fat Tire and Dead Guy and Tilted Kilt are calling to me. I should do a formal comparison of those four. They're similar enough that it should be interesting.

8:25
StupidGirl is working. I should probably give her a new nickname, but I've become attached to this one. I'm sure I'll talk to her sometime tonight. She looks cute.

8:27
This bartender working tonight is slow.

8:28
Scratch that - while I was writing about how he was slow, he was already pouring me another Tilted Kilt (364).

8:35
I think I'll do the tasting on Tuesday when HenPeckedDude is working. This guy tonight would probably screw it up.

8:40
I need to eat something. For some reason I always crave grilled cheese sandwiches in Las Vegas.

8:46
I must remember to buy some lip balm.

8:47
And a case of condoms. Ha ha.

9:00
Piss time.

9:03
Another Tilted Kilt (380).

9:27
It's surreal to be sitting here. I've gone through a lot on this stool.

9:45
Piss time, and Diet Coke time.

10:00
So, I guess PictureGirl is seeing someone now. I think I'm relieved. I mean, it would have been nice to see her, but the thought of her waiting around for me to visit creeped me out a little.

11:15
Been talking to StupidGirl. I'd love to talk some more, but the time zone change is catching up with me. Time for bed.

It's funny how things work out sometimes.

Allow me to 'splain.

My mind is your basic two-track male model. Sometimes I can squeeze in a third track, but usually it's the same two over and over.

So, because of one of the tracks, I was looking forward to having Rogue Chocolate Stout while in Las Vegas. I discovered that wonderful beer here last December, and when I came back in August it was here waiting for me.

So I had it last December in Las Vegas. I had it at Rich O's during DaveFest in June and July, and I had it again when I returned to Las Vegas in August. Throw in the few times I've had it in bottled form, and I've had it a lot. About 1,000 ounces, up until last week.

Now I'm up to 1,172 ounces.

Because, last week, it came back to the Rich O's draft list.

Yay!

This was very cool, and it was made even more cool because it was a surprise to me.

But I remember thinking, last Wednesday as I drank a yummy pint, I remember thinking, Now what am I supposed to look forward to drinking in Las Vegas?

Fat Tire I can get here. I like Fat Tire, but it's not really enough to wrap an entire trip to Las Vegas around.

Ditto for the Black Chip Porter up at Main Street Station. Besides, that's only available up there, and it's a $50 cab ride away from The Rio.

I had no idea what beer would end up defining this trip.

Until I walked into The Tilted Kilt this afternoon.

There was no Rogue Chocolate Stout on tap.

But, that was okay, because in its place, there was...

*drumroll*

Pyramid Tilted Kilt!

Fucking yay and yay!

This beer, for those of you who haven't been studying me as much as you should, is a beer that I discovered here in the Spring of 2004. It immediately became one of my all-time favorites, and I drank a lot of it.

Then, I never saw it again. I was even told that Pyramid had stopped making it.

I was devastated, I tell you.

But no more.

Because Pyramid Tilted Kilt has come back into my life, and now I know which beer will define this entire trip.

I had two small pints (332) with my lunch, and now I've got to try to get some sleep.

But first, here's the rest of my day so far.

My suitcase was the third one to arrive at baggage claim.

The taxi line was a million miles long, but I overheard a dude tell a driver that he was going to The Rio, and I ended up sharing the taxi with him.

There was a hot naked chick at the check-in counter. She was yelling something about something.

I got a room right away. Sometimes I have to wait for hours before a room is available.

Anyway, I'm fucking tired now. I was too excited to sleep last night. I need to sleep now, at least for a couple of hours.

I'm sitting in a bar in the Cincinnati airport with most of an hour to kill before my flight to Las Vegas. I guess I'm about 90 miles from home.

The strange thing is that this is plenty far enough. I have no need to go any farther. Oh, I certainly want to go farther. I've been looking forward to this trip for a long time. But, and this is something that I've had pounded into my brain for the last few months, wants and needs are two different things. Sometimes they are two very different things. Sometimes they even oppose each other. They face off across the field of my life, prepared to battle. To the death if necessary. To my death if necessary.

Fortunately that's not the case with me here and now. Here and now what I need is a logical subset of what I want.

I want to go to Las Vegas. I want to drink some good beer. I want to see PictureGirl. I might even want to do some gambling or maybe take in a show or two.

But what I need, what I need is to get the fuck away from Southern Indiana.

So this is an unusual trip for me. I've always been pulled before. This time I'm being pushed. I guess Las Vegas is a pretty good place to end up.

Man I'm so behind on these things. But I don't feel like writing so I'm just going to rush through this.

---

On Tuesday, I went to Rich O's to see SassyGirl and JauntyGirl. This could be the last time I get to see them in that place, so it was kind of bittersweet for me. I took a picture to remember them by.

To drink, I had myself three glasses of Delirium Tremens (712).

After the girls left I stuck around and talked to CoffeeDude for quite a while. I think I bored him with my stories, but at least we didn't talk about coffee. I also tried to get MixedSignalGirl (yes, we're talking again) to come but we got into a fight instead.

---

Wednesday night, I was in Broomfield Colorado. There was a brewpub right next to my hotel. I think it was called CB & Potts, but it was the Big horn Brewery too. Or maybe Ram brewing. It was quite confusing.

Anyway, I had myself a yummy steak dinner, and with it I had a couple of beers:

Big Horn Hefeweizen (20)

(draft) Served in a glass that was way too cold. There were ice crystals in the beer. Once it had thawed out a little, this was a pretty good beer. Very much a German-style wheat, but with the tiniest little bite of hops in the finish. I liked it.

For my next beer, I asked the girl to thaw me a glass out ahead of time.

Big Horn Total Disorder Porter (20)

(draft) Very nice. Chocolately and roasty and malty. If this was available near my home it would be one of my favorite beers.

After that I went to this place who's name escapes me. I'd gone in there earlier to see what they had on tap, and the hot bartender had told me to come back after I'd eaten, so I did.

While I was there I talked to the hot bartender and I had several phone conversations with MixedSignalGirl. To drink, I had a 24-ounce glass of Fat Tire (403) and then a regular 16-ounce glass of Newcastle (2348). Then I ordered some chicken tenders and went back to the hotel.

---

Thursday I didn't drink anything. I didn't do anything except go to class and then read a book in my room.

---

Friday I didn't drink anything. All I did was check my email every 10 seconds and try to avoid having a total meltdown.

---

Saturday I flew back home.

After a nice meal at the haunted Burger King, I went to Rich O's and got there at about 8:00. I waved at MusicalHippyDude and GlassesGirl who were sitting at the island, and I sat in the throne and talked to a couple that seemed to know me. I will now christen then Scarecrow and HopGirl.

I had a Delirium Tremens (722).

After a while everybody around me started talking about boring stuff so I moved up to the island. This was about the time I had another Delirium Tremens (732).

Then those people started talking about boring stuff. I realized that I was just bored and that it had nothing to do with anyone else. So I texted HatGirl on the off-chance that she'd come to Rich O's.

Well it worked! I got a reply back that they'd be coming in! Yay!

I think that this was about when I ordered my third Delirium Tremens (742).

After a million years, during which I tried somewhat successfully to lure MusicalHippyDude into interesting conversations, HatGirl came in to say "Hi." She and her sister and LuckyFucker were sitting out front. So after a suitable interval I went out to sit with them.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I spent the next hour or two migrating back and forth between the island and the front area.

Sometime during that period I had a fourth Delirium Tremens (752).

After HatGirl and company left I moved back to the island for good. WomanRepellant had snuck in at some point, as had Bubbles and NoNickNameDude. So I finished my beer and talked with them for a while. I also had a couple Diet Cokes to give the beer time to wear off.

I came home at 12:30 or so.

So I'm pretty disappointed with my stalker community.

I mean, I had one girl surprise me in Las Vegas, but I'm not even sure that PictureGirl counts because she knew me then found my journal.

But I had zero obsessed stalkers in Denver. Just like in there were zero in Cleveland and in St. Louis earlier this year.

The Denver count makes me sad. I had high hopes (Okay, regular hopes. Okay, slim hopes. Okay, it at least crossed my mind) that my favorite Coloradonian would show up at the airport, or at the hotel. She could have at least written a message in blood, professing her undying devotion, on my rental car's windshield.

That would have made the trip worthwhile.

Anyway, I'm home now. My bedroom window is in the Northeast corner of my house. I usually sleep in the nude.

Watch out for bees though. There may be some left out there.

Just a quick post here. I don't have many definite plans.

I arrive in Denver at 2:55 on some American Airlines flight from Dallas. Then, I'll get my rental car and drive to Broomfield and check into the Towneplace Suites.

After that, I have no plans. Except for the class I'll be taking on Thursday and Friday. I'd had a brilliant idea for Friday night, but I don't have the funding to pull it off.

I'll probably just stick around Broomfield and maybe see if there are any decent bars there.

Then I leave at like 10:00 Saturday morning and I get back to Louisville at 5:25.

Okay, I'm home.

My laptop broke Thursday night, but I still wrote some shit in my notebook.

Shit being the operative word in that last sentence.

I might post some of it anyway, as that's probably what people have come to expect from me lately.

The show must go on after all.

Continue reading "grandeur" »

Monday night, after my nap, I took a cab up to The Riviera. I didn't stay very long though. Just long enough to briefly check for anyone I knew. I didn't see anyone, so I took a cab to The Rio.

I took notes.

8:30
There's something about The Rio that feels like home to me. I love walking into this place - it just energizes me. And that goes double for The Tilted Kilt. Even though they seem to have gone insane with remodeling, it's still my favorite place in Las Vegas.

Anyway, the first thing I noticed was that I didn't know the bartender. I'd been hoping that HenpeckedGuy would be working. The second thing I noticed was that PictureGirl was nowhere to be seen. The third thing was that Rogue Dead Guy Ale was on tap, so I ordered one (194).

Lastly, I noticed that Rogue Chocolate Stout was on tap. Yay! So I guess I know what I'll be drinking for the rest of the night.

8:40
PictureGirl doesn't work here anymore. That's probably for the best. Also, HenpeckedGuy will be working here tomorrow night.

8:45
I'm struck by the realization that this is the first time that I've sat in this bar and felt completely safe. There is zero chance of a surprise visit. It's a pretty nice feeling, or at least it would be if I were sane. For me, it's quite dull. This is probably one of the reasons that I've felt so strange about this entire trip. I've achieved safety via isolation, and isolation is something I've never wanted.

8:56
Some dipshit just ordered a black and tan.

8:59
StupidGirl still works here. She smiled at me. I should ask her what happened to PictureGirl. Scratch that - I should ask her no such thing.

9:07
Rogue Chocolate Stout time (858).

9:10
Problem is, I'm still a bit hung-over from lunch.

9:15
I should have stayed at The Riviera longer. It would have been nice to see some people I know.

9:16
In case nobody has ever noticed, that Sharipova girl is hot.

9:20
I wish I was staying here instead of at The Luxor.

9:24
OMG, this fucker next to me just told the bartender that he's not a lightweight so he drinks Bud and not Bud Light. I'm sitting here biting my tongue to keep from laughing in his face.

9:26
He's noticed me grinning, and now he's glaring at me. I may have to beat the shit out of him.

9:42
So instead of getting into a fight with PussyMan, I've been talking to him. He's a Yankees fan. Seems like a decent guy despite his delusions about beer.

9:44
Another Rogue Chocolate Stout (874).

9:46
I like hot girls.

9:48
Stupid people have arrived.

9:55
StupidGirl just offered to give me PictureGirl's phone number. I told her that I was seeing someone. That was, of course, a big fat lie.

10:05
Okay, I compromised. I gave StupidGirl my number.

10:09
Honesty time. I told StupidGirl that I'm not in a relationship, but that I'm taken nonetheless. This confused her. I fear that her brain may explode now.

10:16
She keeps trying to see what I'm writing, but it's none of her business so I'm using my free hand to hide it.

10:17
I told her about the hiding what I'm writing. She asked if it was about her. I said it was. She asked it if was good. I said it was neutral. Her face fell.

10:20
I could probably have sex with StupidGirl if I wanted to, but I don't want to. That's weird.

10:30
I'm going to the Grand Canyon tomorrow morning, and I don't want to be hung-over, so I'm outta here.

---

So I took a cab to New York New York and had a Diet Coke and talked to PonytailGirl while I waited for my chicken tenders to get ready. Then I walked back to my room at The Luxor and ate then slept.

In an hour or so I leave for the Grand Canyon! Yay!

Monday morning, after I'd won a little bit of money playing video poker, I did some walking around. My plan had been to walk up to The Riviera where there's a pool tournament going on, but I only made it to Caesar's Palace.

I took a bunch of pictures.

Paris Las Vegas is quite photogenic.

I did another zoom test with my camera. Here's the unzoomed view of New York New York.

And here's the zoomed view.

I think this stained glass dome was inside Paris Las Vegas.

I took a lot of pictures of fountains. I like fountains.

I stopped at Planet Hollywood inside Caesar's and this creepy thing was on the wall.

More fountains.

These were cooler in person.

Here's the obligatory strip shot taken from just outside New York New York.

The first time I ever came to Las Vegas these talking statues were probably the coolest things in the city. Now they seem kind of cheesy.

I really wanted to jump into the water in front of Bellagio.

That's the Rio way out there on the right. It was too far to walk though.

A tower.

For lunch, I had three Smithwick's (1004) and then I had a Guinness (1277) for dessert. I'd still like to duplicate this bar in my basement some day.

Then I came back to my room and took a nap.

Ugh.

Let's see, I guess I better start trying to get caught up. If I don't do it now then it'll just be that much tougher later. Sitting here typing is pretty much the last thing I want to be doing right now. Partly because I'm hung-over from lunch, and partly because it's Las Vegas.

Mostly it's the being hung-over thing.

Yesterday I arrived here as scheduled, just before 4:00. After getting my luggage and getting a taxi and getting a room it was just before 7:00. That's right, three hours. Two hours of that time was spent at The Luxor waiting in line to get a room. It was ridiculous. especially for a place that's kind of a shithole compared to the places around it.

Speaking of places around it, once I'd thrown my stuff into my room, I walked over to The ESPN Zone at New York New York and had something to eat. And drink. And trying to get my cell phone to work. It died just after I got here, and it didn't start working again until this morning.

Anyway, to drink, I had three Fat Tires (133) which were very good, and a wheat beer that I hadn't tried before.

Widmer Brothers Hefeweizen (16)

(draft) The bartender didn't know if this was an American or German wheat, so I had a pint to find out. What it is is a very weak American wheat. Very little aroma or flavor. Since I don't like American wheats, this one was actually very tolerable.

I spent most of my time at ESPN Zone talking to the bartender PonytailGirl, trying to get her to go to The Freakin' Frog with me after work. She declined. Weird, huh?

The ti