You know what? Despite what people might think and what people might say - even despite what I might think and what I might say - I'm not a bad person.

My evilness is merely cosmetic.

Most things that I choose to do or choose to not do have at their root a selfless reason.

A reason.

Not an excuse.

Ah, there they are. I'd been wondering when my emotions would show up. Funny, I didn't expect anger to be leading the way.

(continued)

Showing up at 8:00 always means that I've got to really pace myself or I'll end up going home at 10:00 like some old man. I needed to drink only tame beers. So I sat on the sofa and ordered an NABC Artemsia (180) and talked with a couple of regulars. Regulars who will no doubt be disappointed that I haven't given them nicknames.

Anyway, there was some old lady in the throne. I talked with her for a bit. She seemed really nice, which was strange because most old ladies really creep me out.

Once the old lady and the regulars left I grabbed the throne for myself.

I'm pretty sure that some other stuff happened, but I don't know what. It must not have been important, or interesting.

Actually, that brings up a point. I'm woefully unprepared to write this, the second half of my Saturday beer report. I took notes at the BBC, and I had my notebook with me at Rich O's, but I made very little use of it. In fact, here are the only notes I took at Rich O's last night:

Don't forget. Three times a lady.

I wrote this because they played that song over the radio or CD player or whatever they have back there. I was reminded of a dance I went to when I was in 8th grade. This girl had a crush on me for some reason and we danced all night. They must have played that song a dozen times. That was in 1978.

Weirdoes at 10:00.

A whole herd of weirdoes came in at 10:00 and looked around for a bit. Then I guess they went and sat out front.

PretentiousAsshole

This one guy shows up every now and then and makes fun of everyone's beers. I hate him, and I guess just about everyone hates him.

At a little after 10:00 I texted DooRagGirl, telling her to put down the paintbrush and come to Rich O's. About an hour later she came in, but not (she claimed) because I'd asked her to. Didn't matter, it was nice to see her.

My next beer was a Smithwick's (936).

I spent the next hour or so talking with DooRagGirl and MusicalHippyDude and GlassesGirl. I determined that I haven't managed to completely alienate DooRagGirl. The HatGirl question remains unanswered. Also, I guess MusicalHippyDude is supposed to get his hair cut next week. I probably won't bother giving him a new nickname. We'll see.

They started kicking everyone out at 12:30, so I bought myself a couple of Gulden Draak bottles and came home.

See, I hadn't slept since Friday morning. I gave it a hell of a try, but certain images and events and non-events prevented it. So I devised a plan.

I would drink until I passed out.

Not the healthiest plan I've ever had, but I figured that if I didn't manage to get some sleep then I'd probably end up in the hospital. And that's when the accusations would start flying. I couldn't let that happen.

So I came home, and I sat out on my swing, and I had two bottles of Gulden Draak (204). I was still conscious, so I had a bottle of Delirium Tremens (599).

That did the trick. I woke up at 12:30.

I kinda wish that I could sleep until it's time to leave for Las Vegas. I doubt that the next couple of weeks will be very much fun.

This is me trying to be funny. Not with the content of the entry, more like the theme. Or the lack thereof. Only time will tell if I am successful or not. Well, time and RockGirl, what with RockGirl being the only other person on Earth who might get the joke.

Plus, I'm kinda repeating the same joke from the Friday report, so this time it might fall flat.

Anyway, Ha Ha.

Saturday evening I went out to the BBC brewpub on Shelbyville Road. I'd been craving their Dark Star Porter and I'd been thwarted last weekend when I went downtown. So I this time I went straight to the source.

I sat at a table over by the outdoor area, and the first thing I noticed was that ExoticGirl was sitting outside. The second thing I noticed was that her husband was sitting with her. Oh, well.

I ordered a spicy cheeseburger and fries and a Dark Star (194). The beer was yummy. At least what I had of it was. What happened was this - Out of the corner of my eye I saw ExoticGirl lean forward in her seat and expose some panty material. For some reason I chose that exact moment to reach for my beer, but in my distracted/excited state I didn't so much grab the beer as knock it over. Actually, I didn't so much knock it over as backhand it across the table and onto the floor.

Oops.

So I only had about a half-pint of the Dark Star (184).

My second beer, which arrived at the same time as my food, was a BBC Smoked Porter (54). It was pretty good, but the caution with which I found myself drinking it - that caution neutralized some of the enjoyment for me. I was being very careful because I figured that if I managed to spill two beers in a row they'd probably call the cops just on principle. I'd go directly to jail. I wouldn't pass go. And I most definitely wouldn't collect $200.

The remainder of my time at the BBC passed without incident, and I got to Rich O's at about 8:00.

(to be continued)

...then you're lucky.

My hosting company did some shit last night and the problems caused are continuing.

This site is either completely down or it's unbearably sloooooooooooooow.

This sucks.

Had to work for a while last night, so I didn't get to Rich O's until a little before 10:00.

The parking lot was empty, but inside was the usual Friday night crowding. I sat on the sofa and had a Rogue Chipotle Ale (42), which is on tap for a while. It was decent, but that's all.

Talked to UplandWheatDude and WomanRepellant for a while until I started feeling claustrophobic, then I moved over to the island. There, I had about 10 seconds to myself before a bunch of people joined me. It was okay though. I probably needed the distraction.

My second and third beers were Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbiers (1371). I guess technically that's the last of the DaveFest beers. I'm pretty sure that it's been on tap nonstop since DaveFest started.

Once they started kicking everyone out, I came home and glared at my phone.

This is important.

If I could figure this out, if I could manage to wrap my mind around it, if I could just manage to make fucking sense of what's in my head tonight long enough to put it into words - well then I'd have really accomplished something here.

If I can pull this entry off then I'll garner some credit from my readers. I just know it. I'll be able to write crap and drivel and mundane bullshit for days, maybe even weeks before people start to wander off again.

Way to fucking pressure yourself, Dave.

Now I need a drink.

This idea is important. I don't want to waste it, the way I've wasted so many others, by just spewing words. I want to make people think for a change.

I want them to think about their own justifications and their own excuses for the things that they do. Or don't do. Whatever. I want them to think about how there is a difference between being standing your ground and being paralyzed with fear. Between giving up and moving on. Between desire and desperation, and between love and lust, and between selfishness and selflessness.

I want to make people think about themselves.

Is there a reason for things being the way they are, or is there only an excuse?

I wish I could write what's in my head tonight.

Truth is, I like them all. A lot.

They're all so unusual, so different from what's considered normal.

Normal is boring.

They should have a tour option where you can pee over the edge. I bet that would be very popular. Maybe not so much with the women.

So I guess you can't do a Grand Canyon floor landing unless it's from the West rim. I don't like the West rim. When I tried to go there last year the indians kept pissing me off.

So I've booked a trip to the South rim, to the official part of the park I guess. The canyon floor will have to wait for another time.

It's probably better this way. I've used a lot of symbolism in some of my writings. Stuff about canyons and chasms and such. This way I can stand at the edge of the canyon and reflect on shit. Like how I'm safe for the moment but it wouldn't take much of a misstep (or a push) to send me tumbling back down. The significance of this will no doubt be felt more strongly at the haunted South rim.

Anyway, for those of you planning to stalk me in Las Vegas on August 22nd, I won't be back until probably around 9:00 PM. I recommend the Nine Fine Irishmen at the New York New York casino if you're wondering where to kill some time while you await my return.