Just finished watching The World Is Not Enough and became enthralled by the beautiful Sophie Marceau.

I see on the web that she was also in Braveheart so I guess I know which movie I'll be watching next.

For a while there was A and it was good until B reared its ugly head.

So I decided that I needed to do C for a while, but after I'd resolved that issue in my head, I found that C had been shoved down my throat during my absence.

Then I started wishing that D would happen. Being the paranoid type I'm now convinced that it has happened and I'm all pissed off about it.

Last night I found myself thinking about how cool it would be if E happened, but that train of thought derailed pretty quickly when I realized that F had to follow E and F would most likely suck big green ones.

And I must not forget G which on the surface may be seem like the best idea ever but in reality would probably destroy any chance of A ever happening again.

Saturday I went to a Halloween party at the FirstCouple's house.

My costume? Well I originally planned to go as HipYoungDude from my last Las Vegas trip. I put on the world's loudest shirt and swimtrunks. I put on my sandals and my snazzy shades. I mussed my hair up extra well and let it dry. I looked at myself in the mirror.

It's a funny thing about HipYoungDude - when you take him out of a Las Vegas Summer and plop him into a Southern Indiana Fall he magically transforms into: BeachDork. So my costume was BeachDork and I think I fit that part pretty well.

On the way to the party I stopped to show my outfit to VigilanteGirl. I told her that she should come to the party in a bikini so we could be a somewhat-matched set, but she had to work late. I suppose that's for the best as there were some old (older than me even) people at the party and VigilanteGirl in a bikini would probably have stopped some hearts.

As I expected, I didn't really know many people at the party. I went because I like the FirstCouple and a few of the other people from their circle, but for the most part I didn't know anyone.

To drink I had some Jack's Hard Colas.

It was a pretty tame and relaxing night, soured only by my own inner turmoil. I'd left my cell phone upstairs because when I clipped it to my trunks my trunks kept threatening to come off, so I kept having to run up to see if I'd missed any calls.

I hadn't.

I've got a new rule: No more entries about how torn up I am over this.

I have no right to be this upset, and all of these dark entries are accomplishing nothing worthwhile.

Now we'll just see how long this rule lasts.

taunt
v.
1. To reproach in a mocking, insulting, or contemptuous manner.
2. To drive or incite (a person) by taunting.

On Friday I got to Rich O's a little after 9:00. I was in a fairly decent mood for once, I suppose because I'd played okay pool at The Bank Shot.

There was nobody I knew at Rich O's. I sat at the bar and ordered a Corsendonk Pater. I'd tried one of these last week and vowed to try it again with a clean palate. Here's the review I made at ratebeer.com:

(bottle)I thought this beer smelled and looked fantastic. I'm not really sure what I was expecting tastewise - I suppose a combination of a Belgian and a Brown. What I got was a strange-tasting beer that I can't really say I liked all that much. It just tasted like something was wrong with it, but I couldn't point to any one thing.

Oh yeah, before I'd even sat down at the bar the bartender pointed out these postcards from LaptopGirl leaning against a stack of coasters and asked if I'd seen them. Those damn things sat there mocking me for the rest of the night. I told myself that I wasn't going to look at them and ruin my (rapidly plummeting) mood.

After the Corsendonk I had a bottle of Kwak. I've written about this before. I generally like it but this time there was a very strange perfume smell/taste that I could never quite get a handle on. I don't think I've been turned away from this beer for good but if I ever get another bottle like that again it just might drive me away. One other thing is that the bartender tried to give me an official Kwak glass with the bottle but I was afraid I'd break the expensive-looking thing so I had him give me a regular Belgian glass instead.

For my next beer I asked for something a little lighter but said I'd like to stay with the Belgians. I was given a bottle of Hoegaarden. Here's what I thought of it:

(bottle) Recommended to me because I asked for something with a lighter taste. A cloudy yellow color that looked to me like a cross between a wheat and a lager - neither of which I care for. The taste was actually pretty decent though. The bartender was telling me about all of these different flavor components but I didn't really get any of them. Just a fairly plain, safe beer.

During the entire time I drank these three beers I kept checking behind me to see if anyone I knew had come in. They hadn't. Also, those damn postcards kept taunting me from the other end of the bar. I realized that I was sitting there drinking just to be drinking instead of drinking for the enjoyment of it and that really annoyed me, so I ordered a Mad Bitch to close out the night.

While I was drinking my last beer, ExoticGirl and her boyfriend sat at the bar. To my horror, she picked up the postcards and started reading them aloud. I went to the bathroom, but by the time I got back my resolve had evaporated. I picked up the cursed things and actually even read a couple of words on the first one before I got a grip on myself and put them back out of arms reach.

LaptopGirl did call me at some point after I got home. Because I wasn't at the bar I was useless so it was a very short conversation.

My ever-changing mood shifted from sad to irritated, and I found myself hoping that it would stay that way for a while because I'm tired of being sad.

I was in a pretty good mood and I just couldn't stand it.

I just couldn't leave well enough alone.

I typed the name of a small town in Google's search field, clicked on one of the first returned links, and felt my eyes welling up before the page had even finished loading.

To cheer me back up, here is a joke from one of the 'blogs I read:

A five year old and a four year old are upstairs in their bedroom.

"You know what?" says the five year old, "I think it's about time we start swearing.

The four year old nods his head in approval.

"When we go downstairs for breakfast I'm gonna say "hell" and you say "ass" OK?"

"OK," the four year old agrees with enthusiasm.

The mother walks into the kitchen and asks the five year old what he wants for breakfast.

"Aw hell Mom, I guess I'll have some Cheerios."

WHACK! He flew out of his chair, tumbled across the kitchen floor, got up and ran upstairs crying his eyes out.

She looked at the four year old and asked with a stern voice,

"And what do YOU want for breakfast, young man?"

"I don't know," he blubbers, "But you can bet your ass it won't be Cheerios."

Last night I had an absolutely brilliant idea. One that would hopefully provide answers to a lot of the questions plaguing me.

Today I've spent several hours trying to bring that idea to fruition.

I'm giving up. What I'm looking for is either too well hidden or it doesn't exist at all.

Maybe it's one of those deals where what I don't know can't hurt me.

The hell with that. I still want to know.

Maybe I'll look some more.

I just had a lovely conversation with LaptopGirl which I will now paraphrase:

Hi Da t is da. W you Vegas? I hours fr the.

And pretty much so on.

It was of course wonderful to hear from her. Helps keep me going.

Step one: Randomly cycle through these mood extremes:

heart-bro-ken
adj.
1. Suffering from or exhibiting overwhelming sorrow, grief, or disappointment.

ex-hil-a-ra-ted
adj.
1. Made joyful.
2. Happily refreshed and energetic; elated.

fu-ri-ous
adj.
1. Full of or characterized by extreme anger; raging.

dis-com-bob-u-la-ted
adj.
1. Having self-possession upset; thrown int a state of confusion.

dis-ap-point-ed
adj.
1. Tharted in hope, desire, or expectation.

ex-u-ber-ant
adj.
1. Full of unrestrained enthusiasm or joy.

Step two: Limit sleep to between two and three hours nightly.

Step three: Lather, rinse, repeat as needed.

Note: Be careful not to stop at any mood other than these extremes, lest you be mistaken for a sane person.

Just a quick note - mostly a follow-up to my Saturday entry.

Way back then I wrote that I wasn't able to give a fair tasting to Traquair Jacobite Ale because my senses had been overpowered by the Stone Smoked Porter I'd started the night with.

Well this evening I was able to correct that injustice.

While waiting for my yummy chicken-sausage-mushroom calzone I sat on the couch at Rich O's and enjoyed a bottle of Jacobite. RealTrainGirl was there and we spent a few minutes talking about my uncle, her girlfriend, and LaptopGirl.

(Just a quick edit to point out that a)those are three different people, and b)I didn't bring up the topic of LaptopGirl and I kinda wish I could go through a single conversation without being reminded of how much I miss her. In the case of RealTrainGirl though, I know she's just concerned and not prying.)

The Jacobite is, as I suspected on Saturday, quite an interesting beer. Very complex, with flavors I don't think I've ever encountered before. The stuff was good, though perhaps just a little too fruity for me to say I really liked it. I will have it again sometime though.