Okay, it's over. I have declared it to be so.

The last pint poured during DaveFest 2006 was a Rogue Smoke (230), and it was yummy. The festival is now over.

Sure, that last keg of Rogue Smoke is still on, but it's the last of the special-order beers. Guinness and Smithwick's are still on, but they're always on. If I waited for those two to run out then DaveFest would last for a year.

Hmmmm, The Year Of Dave...

Nope, too late. I have declared it to be over.

More than that, even. I've removed the little DaveFest thingies from the beer board, and I've stolen the DaveFest sign that hung at the Rich O's front door.

No going back now.

Now is as good a time as any. I've never hidden the fact that, for me, the whole point of the thing was to give Roger a reason to bring back Rogue Chocolate Stout. Well, he did bring it back. And now it's gone. It must have blown sometime on Monday. To have the thing drag on when the star of the show is gone just wouldn't seem right.

Besides, and speaking of the star of the show, I'll be in Chicago for the next few nights. What's a DaveFest without a Dave? A ThatOneDudeFest?

So, it's over. And I have a few closing remarks.

For Roger, and for the regulars at Rich O's, and for the strangers and idiots that have come in over the last 6 weeks, DaveFest has either been a pleasant diversion, or a cruel joke, or whatever. For me, for me it's been a singular honor. I send my heartfelt thanks to everyone involved. From Roger, who had the idea in the first place, to Tony, who did the artwork, to Tim, who made the shirts, to all of the bartenders, and to all of my friends and family members who came in and treated the thing like it was real, I am eternally grateful.

And that goes double to everyone who bought a DaveFest shirt. Take care of those things. They're collectors items now.

Roger has indicated that he may have more of these customer appreciation festivals. I hope that he does. I also hope that whoever gets picked for the honor always takes it seriously and appreciates it as much as I do.

This was the first one. The first one at Rich O's, and the first one like it anywhere as far as I've been able to determine. DaveFest 2006 made news on beer sites all over the country. I hope the concept catches on. People everywhere should have the opportunity to receive this type of honor.

Like I said, this was the first. And because it was the first, there were some kinks. If, next year, there's going to be a TimFest or a Bobfest or whatever, what can be done to make things go more smoothly? I have some ideas.

1. Beer
The next honorees should really take their time in their beer selections. I really just kind of threw my list together because I didn't think it would ever really happen. The next people won't have that excuse. They will know that Roger doesn't fuck around when it comes to beer. I should have known this myself.

2. Advertisement
DaveFest 2006 was advertised in two places: my 'blog and Roger's 'blog. No matter what Roger and I might like to think, there are better ways to get the word out. I'm envisioning a sign on the wall at Rich O's, a big sign with 180 days until MargaretFest or whatever. A countdown sign. Get people wondering about the thing well before it happens. DaveFest came as a surprise to nearly everyone. In fact, on the day before it started, one of the bartenders still hadn't heard of the thing. There should be flyers at the bar at least a couple of weeks in advance.

3. Beer Again
This year, the two Rogue kegs were two weeks late. This wasn't really the fault of any one person or organization, it was more of a cluster-fuck designed by the universe to screw with me. This is something that should be watched more closely in the future.

4. Shirts
The shirts were a fantastic thing, but they were too late. We waited too long to do the artwork, and that meant that the design got to the t-shirt guy too late. So I missed out on having DaveFest shirts for the opening weekend. And now I'm left with $300 worth of shirts that may never sell.

5. Beer Menus
Usually, when Roger has his beer festivals, there'll be special Beer Menus made up that list each of the beers along with a brief description. I'd thought about doing this for DaveFest, and I'd even talked to Roger about it. Well, I dropped the ball. I kept putting it off, and I just put it off too long. The festival beer lists are probably the best advertisement that these festivals have. Future honorees should take the time to write about the beers they've chosen and have a nice beer menu put together. Plus, this would make an excellent souvenir.

6. Dancing Girls
The DaveFest Dancers that Roger ordered for opening night never showed up. Future festival dancers should be given better directions.

I guess that's it.

Today, I got my oil changed in my Intrepid, so I can drive it to Chicago on Wednesday. Should be more comfortable than my truck. Less bouncy anyway. I also had them fix the air conditioning.

Then I took a nap.

I mentioned that on Friday night a bunch of weirdoes came into the bar. I'm thinking now that they must have just been the advance team.

On Saturday night, sitting right there on the loveseat, in all her glory, was Purpella, Queen Of The Weirdoes.

I tried not to stare. I really did. I went over and stood at the island where a bunch of people I know where sitting. Including HatGirl. Yay!. I stood at the end of the island, and I tried not to stare. After a bit, I sat in Bubble's vacated seat, and I still tried not to stare.

Fuck, HatGirl even pointed out that she was wearing a skirt, and still I couldn't help but stare at Purpella.

She was a freak. A freak with hair that was about a million different colors of purple.

Anyway, after a while some of Purpella's royal entourage left the living room area, so HatGirl and LuckyFucker and I moved over there. The rest of the night consisted of not much worth mentioning, except that I had two pints of Rogue Chocolate Stout (776) and I had a pretty tough time not looking at HatGirl's legs. At least I did once Purpella had left.

Oh yeah, the place was pretty dead. By 10:00, there were just the three of us in the living room area, and about a dozen or so strangers in the red room, and that was it. All of the cool people must have been at some party. In fact, LonerBoy had asked me earlier in the night if I was going to such a party. I declined because (a) I'm on-call this weekend, (b) I had to work in the morning, (c) I wasn't invited to the PBD party he was talking about, and most importantly, (d) HatGirl!

Towards the end of the night I saw something very sweet, and that put me in a strange mood. Stranger than normal I mean.

I was so close. So fucking close to pulling myself out of this abyss. Words of encouragement had boosted my resolve. The strength shown to me by another had lifted my own confidence. I was so close.

I shouldn't have done what I did. I should have completed my climb as I'd started it. On my own. But I didn't. Instead, instead as I neared the top, I reached out my hand. She had been waiting for me for a long time. She seemed as excited as I was, maybe even more so. I was going to be free. We were going to be together.

That's what I thought, anyway.

I reached up with my hand, and she took it into her own. She smiled at me. I gave her more of my weight, and she held on all of her strength.

I gave her my full weight...

...and she let go.

And now I'm going back to where I belong.

Tumbling and bouncing off these walls that I'd so recently scaled. Climbing is hard work, but falling, falling is effortless. It's fucking fantastic, because I know that it cannot be stopped. It's such a free feeling.

I'm so excited. I can hardly wait to get back to the bottom.

Back to where I belong.

I must have decided a million times that I wasn't going out last night. My sleep schedule was all messed up and I'm on-call this weekend. Those would be the official reasons. The unofficial reason would be that I just didn't feel like going out only to have my mood deteriorate as the inevitable feelings of disappointment appeared once again.

So the plan was to come home from work, sleep until midnight or so, then shoot some pool.

Didn't happen.

My phone wouldn't stop ringing. It was either work calling about some perceived disaster, or my sister, or my friend Eric. The work calls I had to answer, the others I sent to voicemail. Don't these people know that I'm trying to sleep? Guess not.

About the eight zillionth time my phone rang, I looked at the screen, and saw a local number that sort of looked familiar. A number that looked a lot like one I'd deleted from my phone a while ago, because I couldn't trust myself not to call it.

I answered.

HatGirl!

Yay!

She wanted to know if I was going to Rich O's.

Well, duh! Of course I was. Try and stop me.

So, while my new Hard Rock Cleveland shirt was dewrinkling in the dryer, I connected in to work to do what I could about the problems there. I called my friend Eric back. I didn't call my sister because all she wanted was for me to bring my camera if I was going to Louisville to listen to my nephew play guitar, and I wasn't going because (a) It was too late, and (b) HatGirl!

When I got to Rich O's, there was an über hot girl dressed like a flapper, and another girl dressed like, well I don't really know how to describe it. It was some kind of period costume. More on those two later.

Inside, I found HatGirl and LuckyFucker sitting on the loveseat, and a couple of strangers sitting on the sofa. I sat on the throne and ordered a Rogue Chocolate Stout (736).

After a few minutes, HatGirl and LuckyFucker left. Remember that disappointment stuff I wrote about up above? Inevitable.

The strangers recognized me from the whole DaveFest thing, and I spent the next couple of hours talking to them. They recently moved here from New York They're pretty cool people, which probably means that I'll never see them again.

My second beer was a Rogue Smoke (190).

At one point FlapperGirl and some other people came in and sat at the island. I went up and tried to start a conversation with her, mainly about why she and her friend were in costume. She blew me off and said it was just normal clothes. "But you're dressed like a hot flapper!" I protested. "And your friend is dressed like an Elizabethan alien or something!"

She didn't seem to like this, and her look told me to go away, so I did. But later, when I went to the bathroom, the guy I was talking to said that FlapperGirl had checked out my ass. So that was cool.

My third beer was a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier, but I only drank about half of it (1240) because after the New York couple left a bunch of weirdoes came and took over the living room area.

Once I got home all hell broke loose at work again, so I spent the rest of the night trying to deal with that.

Okay, at what point am I allowed to be pissed at you without making myself seem like a jackass?

Hopefully, that point has already passed, because I'm pissed right now.

It's one thing to call me and arrange to meet me at the bar after work.

It's another thing to then not show up.

And then, then to not answer your fucking phone or return a voicemail - that's just fucking rude.

To do the all of the above like a dozen times in a row, well I don't have the words to describe it.

And, just when I start to get used to that mistreatment, you fucking find a new way to abuse me.

You call me and tell me that you're already there. That you're waiting for me. That you'll see me when I get there.

But noooooooooooooooo!

When I get there, you're nowhere to be found.

So I fucking call you to ask what's up.

Again.

And I leave a fucking voicemail.

Again.

And you fucking don't return it.

Again.

Remember, you're the one fucking calling me.

Anyway, while I was wasting my fucking time waiting for you to return my call, I had a beer that was new to me:

Rogue Altbier (5)

(draft) Looks like a brown ale, smells like an alt, but tastes like an IPA. Bitter flavor followed with a bitter finish. An Altbier is supposed to be balanced, dammit! A very disappointing beer from one of my favorite breweries.

Look, I know that lately I've put too much stake in the actions of others. I know that I do that. But dammit, there are some people that I should be able to fucking count on.

I thought that you were one of those people.

You fucking called me.

Well that was nice. I'd expected to hear from her attorney before I ever heard from her.

---

I've got a cyst or a conjoined twin or something growing on the back of neck. It's actually impeding my ability to turn my head without pain. When this grows big enough to become self-aware I just hope it isn't a jerk.

---

Yesterday some guy at Rich O's that nobody ever saw before bought two DaveFest shirts. I made it a point to stop by his table and thank him for his support.

---

That's all I've got for now. Thought there'd be more, but nope.

Clicking the image should pop up a larger view, if you're really bored.

Okay, this is a little disjointed.

That field to the right of the highway - that's where I grew up. There used to be a house there. There used to be a lot of shit in that area that isn't there anymore, and there's a lot of new shit that wasn't there when I was growing up.

Anyway, I had my pillows and my sleeping bag, and I was camping right on the edge of the road in front of my old yard. The pillows that I had - I had three pillows with green pillowcases, which is weird because I only have one pillowcase like that in my house.

There was a kind of theme to what I was doing. "Roadside 'Blogging" or something equally nonsensical. I kept getting annoyed because passing cars would keep zooming by me without even slowing down. I kept thinking that I was going to get run over, and I didn't want to die in my sleep like that.

I was trying to get some sleep, but there were some kids across the street setting up for a concert or a huge party or something. Also, I was right near this drainage pipe (you can barely tell where it is in the picture) and there were rocks that were digging into my back.

So I gave up on sleeping, and I decided that I was thirsty and that I'd go to Polly's Freeze. Polly's is the building at the top of the picture. So I walked passed my grandmother's old house (center right of the picture) and I was almost to Polly's when I realized that it was only 10:00 or so, and that I could go to Rich O's and have a yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout instead.

I picked up a ladder and I started running back to my old yard, where I'd parked my truck. Some black guy came out of Mildred's house (on the left side of the road in the center of the picture) and he started hollering at me about something, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.

When I got back to my old yard, there was a big giant house that was being delivered. I couldn't get my truck out because the big giant house delivery had the driveway blocked. So I tried to drive my truck up the hill at the front of my old yard, but the hill was too steep and I flipped my truck.

These things were outside my window when I got up this morning. There were actually about twice this many. There was another adult and another half-dozen chicks.

The reason it's so out of focus is that I took this picture through the glass in my window, and the glass messed up my camera's auto-focus. By the time I figured out how to focus them, they were in the bushes.

I think they're turkeys, but that's just a guess.