Really, is it so bad?

Is it really so horrible that only reason I even talk to you at all is that, someday, somehow, I hope to stick my dick in you?

Is that really so bad?

Think about it for a second.

How many guys are left that want anything at all to do with you?

Not many.

I'm sure of it.

Because you're a bitch.

You're uncaring.

And self-centered.

And an all-around psycho.

Was any of that redundant?

Maybe.

I dunno.

Or care.

Just think, for a second, about all of the guys you've left in your wake.

Crying in their beers and wishing they'd never even met you.

Those guys know better, now.

Finally.

They've seen the person that you really are.

And they want nothing to do with you.

I'm not like that.

Yet.

I still want to stick my dick in you.

You should let me.

Before I wise up.

Partly because I feel a bit of an obligation because of DaveFest, and partly because I just want to, I've been going into Rich O's after work each day this week. Not much has happened that's worth writing about, but I gotta write something.

Monday
You know, I can't for the life of me remember a single thing about this except that I had a Smithwick's (826) and there was this one hot girl and her husband who recognized me from my 'blog.

Tuesday
I had to take the day off work to wait for the cable guy to show up and fix my Internet. Once that guy left I went to Rich O's. I got there a little earlier than I'd planned - about 4:30 - because SassyGirl had called and wanted me to call her when I went to Rich O's.

So, I had a Newcastle (2160) and I called SassyGirl about every 15 minutes or so, always getting voicemail, sometimes leaving a message.

Also, LibertyGirl was there and she kept trying to start up a conversation, but I just wasn't in the mood. Hopefully I didn't piss her off. Since then I've been trying to remember just how much LibertyGirl knows about the whole LaptopGirl situation. I seem to vaguely remember spilling my guts to her one night.

Then, I had another Newcastle (2180) and kept trying to call SassyGirl, but I still had no luck.

Good thing SassyGirl isn't straight or I'd probably start to get a complex. This is about the zillionth time she's done this shit to me.

Oh yeah, and Roger told me that the two Rogue ales for DaveFest (Rogue Chocolate Stout and Rogue Smoke) might be available Thursday. He didn't sound very optimistic about it though. We'll see what happens.

Wednesday
Today I had myself an NABC Cone Smoker (1906). I had the living room area all to myself but then this hot girl came in with her Great-great-great-great-grandmother. She had a Lindeman's while her remote ancestor had a glass of wine.

The girl was just too hot. I kept having to tear my eyes away from her, and when I got sick of doing that I moved up to the bar and finished my beer there.

"You're a fucking dumbass," I said.

"What are you bitching about now?" I asked.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, you stupid fuck, " I answered.

"Well, how about you pretend that I don't know, and you explain it to me."

"Okay fine." I paused for effect. "You had hope just now. Don't even fucking try to deny it. That person just walked in the door and you had hope that it would be her."

"Bullshit," I said.

"C'mon, I was right here," I said. "I know that you had hope."

"What if I did?" I asked defensively. "Besides, it was only for a second."

"I can't believe how stupid you are." I was getting frustrated. "How many times do you have to be hurt before you give up this bullshit?"

"It's not bullshit," I protested. "It's perfectly normal for me to miss a friend, and to hope to see that friend again."

"You forget who you're talking to," I said. "I'm the one person you cannot fool."

"I'm not trying to fool anyone. You're just being paranoid."

"Paranoid?" I was incredulous. "You think I'm paranoid, you dumb fuck?"

"That's exactly what I think," I said. "You forget that things have changed. I've managed to separate things in my head. I want to see my friend, that's all."

"Save that bullshit for your 'blog," I said. "Like I said, you cannot fool me."

"You suck," I responded. "You suck, and I don't have to listen to you if I don't want to."

"You are such a stubborn asshole," I said. "Fine, but let me ask you something."

"What?" I asked confidently.

"You say that you miss your friend, and that's all that you miss?" I asked.

"That's right," I responded.

"Well," I continued, "What about the potential for something else? What about the potential that you saw in the two of you as a couple? What about the potential that you saw in her as a person?"

"That's all in the past," I said uneasily. I was beginning to get an idea of what would come next.

"Oh, is it really?" I asked. "You don't miss that potential at all?"

"Um, well I guess I'll always miss that," I answered. "At some level at least."

"You try so hard to sound like you've got your shit together," I said.

"Hey," I protested. "I am a lot better than I was. Why are you being such a dick?"

"Because I'm sick of your bullshit," I answered. "That, plus I might be the only person on Earth that cares about you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," I pointed out. "I was in an actual good mood for once, and you had to go and ruin it."

"You idiot," I said. "You've actually managed to forget about it, haven't you?"

"Forget about what?" I asked.

"About The Wall," was all I needed to say.

I went numb for a precious second. "You asshole," I said as the pain came rushing back to me. "Why did you have to remind me? Why couldn't you just let me be content for a while?"

"Because contentedness is dangerous for you," I said. "You can't handle being content, and you always look for something more."

"And what's wrong with that?" I asked, though I knew what the answer would be.

"What's wrong with that, you dumb fuck, is that you always look for the same thing. Over and over and over and over. And you're never going to find it."

"Because of The Wall," I admitted.

"Right. Because of The Wall," I answered. "All of that potential that you saw - it's unreachable to you now. You've got to come to grips with that fact."

"You know," I countered. "I wasn't thinking about that stuff at all, before you butted in. I just missed my friend. You could have left me alone."

I sighed. I'd hoped that it wouldn't come to this. "Okay," I said. "I'll make you a deal. Let me ask you one more question, and if you answer it honestly and still want me to leave you alone, then I will."

"Great," I answered. "Ask your fucking question."

"Okay, here goes." This was going to be hard for me to ask, I knew that it would be exponentially tougher for him to answer. "Right now, you realize that all of that potential is something that you'll never see realized. Right now, you know it like you've never known it before. My question is this: Without that potential, with nothing except the opportunity for what you once had, and nothing more, ever, are you sure that you want to see her walk through that door?"

I knew what I was supposed to say. I sure as fuck knew what I wanted to say. But I decided, for some reason that escapes me now as I tell this story, I decided to answer the question honestly.

"If you put it like that," I responded, "then the answer is no. To simply go back to what there was would be impossible. It would hurt too much. I'd rather have nothing than try to go back to that while knowing that there would never be anything more."

"Thank you for your honesty," I said gently. "And now, as I promised, I'll leave you alone if that's your wish. You can hope and dream all you want, and I won't interrupt you again."

"That's okay," I said. "You can stay for a while if you want."

"Thank you," I answered. "Let's have a beer together, and let's miss her for a while."

"Sounds good," I accepted. "I'll try not to have any hope this time."

"I know you'll try," I said. "And if you slip up, I'll be right here for you. To smack you down once again."

I allowed myself a smile. "You're an asshole, you know?" I said.

"Yes I am," I conceded. "But at least I'm not a fucking dumbass."

"Maybe that's why we make such a good team," I ventured.

"Cheers!" we said in unison, as our glasses clinked together.

My Internet connection has been up and down for most of the day. I'll probably type this shit up and then not be able to publish it. Supposedly the guy is coming here tomorrow to diagnose and hopefully fix whatever the problem is.

---

I have absolutely nothing to write about and, even if I did, it wouldn't be any good.

---

I keep dreaming about Las Vegas. Probably because this is the longest I've gone without visiting there in several years. I need to get out there.

---

I seem to have developed this severe aversion to couples. I don't really think about it, but I'm miserable around them. I suppose this is my subconscious giving me a hard time about being alone.

---

The DaveFest thing is exhausting. What I'd like to do, one of these nights, is just sit at the island or at the bar and do nothing except glare at people. But I can't, because I'm the star of the show or something.

---

Yesterday I bought a bag of pistachios, then I ate the whole bag in about three hours. Pistachios must have the highest ratio of ugliness to deliciousness of any food out there. Plus, they're a pain to eat.

---

I guess that's about it.

I fear that this will be too cryptic for some, and not nearly cryptic enough for others.

I apologize to both groups. This is just what I was thinking about, and I need to write it before I lose it in the blizzard of drivel that has swarmed in my head lately.

Almost five years ago, I watched people jump. A lot of us watched. Hell, most of the world watched, either as it happened, or through replay after replay after replay after replay.

One scene in particular sticks in my head. A man and a woman who jumped as one. Their hands clasped tightly together as they leaped from one certain fate into another.

I wonder, did they know each other, before that morning? Did they work together? Did they ever see each other in the hallways, or in the elevators? Or did they meet at that last possible moment, when the horrors around them led them both to that same conclusion? Did each of them reach out, at that terrible moment when death loomed behind and waited below them, did each of them reach out for one last touch from another human being, for one final bit of proof that no matter how terrible life can be, we don't have to go through it alone? Did they reach out then, and find each other, and gain comfort from each other's presence?

We're all faced with similar choices all the time. Will we let our troubles burn away at us until there's nothing left but ash? Will we become paralyzed with fear of the unknown? Or will we take that leap into the void? Will we take back our lives?

I like to think that I know what I'd have done. I like to think that I'd have jumped.

But this last time, this last time the courage eluded me. And, while I stood trembling on the ledge, she went ahead and jumped without me.

Good for her. She took back her life.

This entry deserved better than I could give it.

How is it, I wonder, that I can eat six White Castle cheeseburgers and two orders of fries right before I go to sleep, then wake up six hours later and be starving to death?

I can't eat now though. I've got to connect in to work and get some shit done.

Maybe after that's done I'll go grab some breakfast.

I didn't say this would be an interesting entry.

Took the lazy road in preparing this entry. I took notes.

7:20
Gave PhotoDude his DaveFest shirt. He wants me to sign something on it. I'm thinking about signing, "Here's your fucking shirt."

7:25
Assholes in the living room, strangers at the island. I'm having a Newcastle (2140) at the kiddie table.

7:30
This one chick from work wants me to go sit in the loser area with them. No thanks.

7:34
Assholes left. I'm moving to the throne.

7:42
Some people are incapable of shutting the fuck up.

7:44
I just had the glorious realization that the two women that I care most about in the world - the last words that each of them said to me were lies.

8:10
I've been talking to PhotoDude and his wife, but now some hot girls have arrived. I might not be writing much for a while.

8:12
I order a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1061).

8:20
This one chick, she reminds me of a girl I used to lust after before I even knew what lust was. What I'm saying is that the lust I have for this girl has deep roots.

8:27
I know her name now. Same as a month. Not September.

8:34
That fucking fuckhead just came in. He better not acknowledge my presence.

8:46
Piss time.

8:50
She's 24. My imagination cannot accept that much of an age difference.

8:55
Wait, now she's 30. That's better, but she seems to be aging very quickly.

9:04
She grew up very close to where I lived in Lanesville. Small world.

9:22
Her friend is quite hot too, but married.

9:40
Another Weihenstephaner (1081).

10:20
Hot girls just left. Probably to masturbate while thinking about me.

10:30
I'm outta here. White Castle sounds good.

Boy, talk about going through the motions.

This is the third time I've sat down to write this entry. It's so boring that I keep slipping into a coma, and then I have to start over after I regain consciousness.

I'm thinking that I should probably just give up on writing things from scratch, that I should probably just carry my notebook around with me all the time. It's the lazy way to write, sure, but maybe lazy isn't such a bad thing.

So I got to Rich O's early, a little after 7:00. The living room area was full of strangers drinking Red Stripe. I guess they don't realize that (a) You can get that stuff in liquor stores, and (b) It sucks.

At the island, we had a couple of old people celebrating their 800th wedding anniversary or something. It was gross and sweet at the same time. It was greet.

I sat in the red room and talked to MusicalHippyDude, GlassesGirl, and PhotoDude for a few minutes. My first beer was a Newcastle (2120).

At 7:30 the old people realized that it was waaaaaaaaaaaay past their bedtime so they left, and I jumped up to the island so I could glare at The Red Stripe Bunch more easily. My second beer was a Domaine DuPage (290).

SassyGirl and JauntyGirl came in and joined me. JauntyGirl was wearing a shirt with a start button on the front. I guess there's some band called The Start or some such, and it's one of her favorite bands. Anyway, I had an almost irresistible urge to press that start button. That damn button taunted me all night.

Once The Red Stripe Bunch finally left we moved over to the living room area, and then after a while DooRagGirl came in, followed closely by my sister Neisha and her husband Chris.

My third beer was a Mestreechs Aajt (110).

Not much happened after that. I think everyone was bored. I know that I was.

My last beer was a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1041).

I sold a couple of DaveFest shirts, and just about everybody put theirs on right away. Not SassyGirl though. She didn't like the new shirt smell.

Oh yeah, the Rogue beers didn't make it yet. That will probably make HatGirl happy since it means that she'll get a chance to try the Rogue Chocolate Stout, but it was disappointing to me.

I feel another coma coming on, so I'm going to stop now.