They tell me that there's a decent chance that this class will be cancelled, but for now I plan to be in Broomfield Colorado in September.

This should provide a nice backup opportunity for those who won't be able to stalk me in Las Vegas later this month.

I'd arrive on the 6th, attend training on the 7th and the 8th, then leave in the morning of the 9th.

I'm trying not to get too excited about this trip, but it's tough because I haven't been to the Denver area since 1999.

I'll provide more information as it becomes available.

I have this sort of recurring dream. Not the dream itself, really, but the theme of the dream.

It pisses me off.

What happens in these dreams is that I find myself getting back together with a certain person. A certain person who, in my waking life, I hope to never even see again for as long as I live. In fact, I've told my sisters that I don't even want this person coming to my funeral, should that opportunity arise.

But in my fucking dreams, we get back together. And I'm happy. And then she cheats on me. And then I'm miserable.

And then I wake up and I'm pissed at myself for having the dream.

Why I dream about that whore, I'll never know.

For a while there I was thinking that tonight might be one of those nights, one of those nights when I'd be able to write something halfway coherent.

I'm in a contemplative mood. My alcohol level is just right, thanks to this yummy Gulden Draak that's now almost completely gone.

All I needed was a subject. A few things flitted through my head a couple of hours ago, but none of them really caught my attention. I didn't worry though. I had plenty of time. I figured that I'd be able to come up with something before it was time to sit my ass down here and type.

I was wrong.

The only ideas in my head are either stupid, or boring, or they're just rehashes of the same old crap.

I almost forgot. Or I guess I did forget until just now.

There's a new NABC beer at Rich O's. I had a small sample of it on Saturday during the sausage fest, and then yesterday I had a full glass after work while I talked with OddlyFamiliarGirl.

New Albanian Strathpeffer Heather (23)

(draft) Dark gold. There's an unidentifiable (by me at least) aroma and flavor, both reminiscent of evergreen shrubbery. The finish is drying and long-lasting. It kind of reminds me of when I was a kid and I'd chew on Sassafras leaves. The finish is the most notable characteristic. A decent beer.

Today I spent some time trying to find a good Grand Canyon tour thingy that I can do while I'm in Las Vegas.

I'd like to find a package that will fly me from Las Vegas to the Grand Canyon, ideally to the main visitor center on the south rim. The opportunity to actually fly down to the canyon floor would be fantastic as well. I've seen a couple of packages that also offer boat rides.

Problem is, there are a zillion tour packages out there. So what I'm wondering is if any of you lovely readers have any recommendations or warnings regarding any of these tour packages.

Don't bother telling me about any of the various bus tours available from Las Vegas. Those tours would take way too long. Besides, can you imagine the people that ride those buses? I bet it's nothing but old people and their screaming grandkids. No thanks.

Sunday morning KittenDamsel and I had breakfast at McDonalds, then I took a very quick shower. When I got out of the shower my cat Happy had her trapped on top of my bed. He was growling and hissing, but he's too fat to get on the bed himself. It was funny. To me, anyway.

The plan was for me to take KittenDamsel to get her car from the bar, but instead we ended up dicking around my house for a while. I gave her and Happy a proper introduction. I tried to find Nugget for a similar introduction, but that didn't work. That cat is a fuck of a good hider.

So we shot some pool and I showed her some trick shots.

Then we ended up going to this Clark State Forest place. I don't know why. It wasn't my idea. That place is haunted, after all. But we had fun. It was like a million degrees outside though, so even the easy hiking trails set up for wheelchairs and such were pretty strenuous.

It was a good time. I like KittenDamsel. I don't know if it's mutual though. I think I might be more of a big brother or father figure for her. The comic a couple of entries ago illustrates why I think that.

To be honest, I've probably got enough drama in my life already. Adding to it would probably be stupid and maybe even cruel.

Anyway, after we'd hiked about a million miles, we went to Red Lobster and had an early dinner, then I finally got around to taking her back to her car. Then I came home and slept like a dead person.

I took notes Saturday, thinking I'd use them to write a proper entry sometime Sunday. Well that plan sucked, and it's two days later, so I'm just going to try and get caught up.

7:22
Browning's is too fucking crowded. I doubt that there's a beer on Earth worth putting up with this.

7:40
I'm at The Red Star Tavern. My night here has started out just fucking great. The waiter rolled his eyes when I requested no slaw with my burger and fries. So now I'm getting a spitburger. Oh yeah, and a BBC Bourbon Barrel Stout (294).

7:43
They usually have BBC Dark Star Porter here. I hope it comes back.

7:47
I always like it here at Fourth Street Live. There are actual girls all over the place, unlike Rich O's. It's also a little haunted, and that is like Rich O's.

7:51
This beer is yummy.

7:54
I just made them change the TV from some poker documentary to the Reds game. I'm an asshole.

7:55
Food is here. No slaw. No detectable spit.

8:07
Everyone working here is scowling. It's probably my fault somehow.

8:10
I just noticed that on the Milwaukee Brewers' shirts it says "Cerveceros." That's weird.

8:14
Food is gone. I've moved to the bar so they could have their booth back. I also tipped 30%.

8:20
I'm outta here.

8:25
Now I'm at The Pub. I don't see that one bitch working. Good. I order a Newcastle (2260).

8:29
The Pub has also pulled Dark Star Porter for the bourbon stout. What, it would kill them to have two BBC beers on at the same time?

8:30
This Newcastle is yummy. Which backs up what my friends and I have been saying for two months. Either what they sold at Rich O's during DaveFest was old and stale and flat Newcastle, or it wasn't Newcastle at all.

8:40
The Stella Artois drinkers crack me up. They pay a premium price for imported piss when they could drink domestic piss for a much lower cost. And, for the truly cost-conscious, I'd piss in their glasses for free just to watch them drink it.

8:45
Speaking of piss, I have to.

8:52
It's a very quiet crowd here tonight. Not just here at The Pub, but all along the street. It's crowded, but quiet.

8:55
Another Newcastle (2280).

8:59
Some shithead across the bar just ordered a black and tan, took one sip, then paid and left. Maybe he realized how stupid he looked drinking a black and tan.

9:15
The bartender tells me that all the hot girls won't start showing up until after 11:00. That sucks.

9:18
Piss time.

9:20
I'm not really sure what I should think about a certain reader's absence. I'm quite hurt and disturbed by it, but I shouldn't be. I shouldn't care at all, but I do.

9:29
Fuck.

9:31
Some woohoos have sat at a nearby table. I hate them already.

9:32
Except for that one girl. She's smoldering hot. I like her just fine.

9:34
The dingbat next to me just ordered "An ale, but alight ale." I hate her.

9:36
The woohoos suck.

9:40
Okay, the woohoos and the light ale dingbat have run me off. I'm outta here.

9:45
Piss time at the Hard Rock.

9:48
I'm just having a Diet Coke here. This one bartender has awesome hair. It's spiky and purple and pink and black. She's hot.

9:55
This guy next to me has had a shot sitting in front of him since I sat down, but he hasn't drank it. I'd drink the fucking thing myself, but Holly isn't here. I only do shots with Holly. I miss Holly.

9:59
Okay, now the guy is sipping his shot. What a pansy.

10:05
I'm outta here.

10:26
I arrive at Rich O's and take a piss.

10:28
I have a Smithwick's (896).

10:35
I wonder if that pansy has finished his shot yet.

10:36
This place is a sausage fest again. There are two girls out in the loser area, but that's it for all of Rich O's.

10:46
It's boring here. I should go somewhere else.

10:56
I'm outta here.

---

So I went over to another bar, and I ran into a girl I know, and I drove her home because I'm a sucker for damsels in distress. I was a perfect gentleman though. We talked and watched a movie and she fell asleep (passed out) on the couch with her head on my lap. She was like a sleeping kitten, and so I didn't want to wake her so I just reclined the thing back and slept myself.

When I woke up my entire leg was numb from the weight of her head, and I could barely walk.

I like that one part, that section of skin between the navel and the top of the jeans. I really like the way it seems to curve outward before turning back toward the promised land.

I think that belly-shirts and low-rider jeans just might be the greatest inventions ever.