Found out yesterday morning that I'm on-call this week. This sucks extra hard because (a) SassyGirl's going away party is Friday night, and (b) My sister is having a party on Saturday.

I absolutely will not miss SassyGirl's party, and my sister may kill me if I miss yet another one of her parties, so I've pleaded with my coworkers to trade some on-call days and cover for me from Friday evening until Sunday morning. No response yet.

There is absolutely nothing else going on. There probably should be, but there isn't.

I went to Rich O's after work yesterday, and had an NABC Artemsia (300). I also managed to put myself into one of the best moods I've felt in a very long time. I was able, for a half hour or so, to forget that the last two years ever happened. It was nice.

Then today I went after work to see SassyGirl. I had a Smithwick's (1152).

This is boring.

It was at about this time last year that writing was effortless for me.

At least I think it was this time last year. To actually go and check would be like, hard and stuff. Plus I might find out that I'm wrong and that would totally invalidate my opening sentence.

And what's an entry without an opening sentence?

Not very much, that's what. Just a title and a timestamp. And maybe a category or two. But that's it.

But I digress.

I've had this damn entry title in my head since April. For five months I've known what I wanted to write about, but I didn't know what I wanted to write.

And now, now recent events have brought the entire matter to a head. I need to write something about it, if only to get my head wrapped around it. It is important that I know what I'm doing here. Life has offered me a second chance. I doubt that there'll be a third.

I still don't know what I want to write though. That's why I'm rambling on here. I'm waiting for a flash of inspiration or something. Anything. Please.

Okay.

Once upon a time there was this guy. Not a knight or a prince or anything cool like that. Just a regular guy.

Nope. That sucks.

Maybe I'm just not supposed to write about this. People might actually read it, if I wrote something. She might actually read it.

I guess I should think about this some more.

Man I'm so behind on these things. But I don't feel like writing so I'm just going to rush through this.

---

On Tuesday, I went to Rich O's to see SassyGirl and JauntyGirl. This could be the last time I get to see them in that place, so it was kind of bittersweet for me. I took a picture to remember them by.

To drink, I had myself three glasses of Delirium Tremens (712).

After the girls left I stuck around and talked to CoffeeDude for quite a while. I think I bored him with my stories, but at least we didn't talk about coffee. I also tried to get MixedSignalGirl (yes, we're talking again) to come but we got into a fight instead.

---

Wednesday night, I was in Broomfield Colorado. There was a brewpub right next to my hotel. I think it was called CB & Potts, but it was the Big horn Brewery too. Or maybe Ram brewing. It was quite confusing.

Anyway, I had myself a yummy steak dinner, and with it I had a couple of beers:

Big Horn Hefeweizen (20)

(draft) Served in a glass that was way too cold. There were ice crystals in the beer. Once it had thawed out a little, this was a pretty good beer. Very much a German-style wheat, but with the tiniest little bite of hops in the finish. I liked it.

Big Horn Total Disorder Porter (20)

(draft) Very nice. Chocolately and roasty and malty. If this was available near my home it would be one of my favorite beers.

While I was there I talked to the hot bartender and I had several phone conversations with MixedSignalGirl. To drink, I had a 24-ounce glass of Fat Tire (403) and then a regular 16-ounce glass of Newcastle (2348). Then I ordered some chicken tenders and went back to the hotel.

---

Thursday I didn't drink anything. I didn't do anything except go to class and then read a book in my room.

---

Friday I didn't drink anything. All I did was check my email every 10 seconds and try to avoid having a total meltdown.

---

Saturday I flew back home.

After a nice meal at the haunted Burger King, I went to Rich O's and got there at about 8:00. I waved at MusicalHippyDude and GlassesGirl who were sitting at the island, and I sat in the throne and talked to a couple that seemed to know me. I will now christen then Scarecrow and HopGirl.

I had a Delirium Tremens (722).

After a while everybody around me started talking about boring stuff so I moved up to the island. This was about the time I had another Delirium Tremens (732).

Then those people started talking about boring stuff. I realized that I was just bored and that it had nothing to do with anyone else. So I texted HatGirl on the off-chance that she'd come to Rich O's.

Well it worked! I got a reply back that they'd be coming in! Yay!

I think that this was about when I ordered my third Delirium Tremens (742).

After a million years, during which I tried somewhat successfully to lure MusicalHippyDude into interesting conversations, HatGirl came in to say "Hi." She and her sister and LuckyFucker were sitting out front. So after a suitable interval I went out to sit with them.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I spent the next hour or two migrating back and forth between the island and the front area.

Sometime during that period I had a fourth Delirium Tremens (752).

After HatGirl and company left I moved back to the island for good. WomanRepellant had snuck in at some point, as had Bubbles and NoNickNameDude. So I finished my beer and talked with them for a while. I also had a couple Diet Cokes to give the beer time to wear off.

I came home at 12:30 or so.

...limiting the amount of hotness that any one girl can exude.

That is all.

It lies cold and lifeless in my hand. I don't know what happened. I don't know if it's temporary. I don't know if it's all in my mind.

But I do know that I don't like this very much.

How do you breathe new life into something that, technically, never lived in the first place? Is it even possible? I must try, but I don't know where to start.

That is stupid, people will think. It is, after all, just a rock.

Did I finally ask too much of it? Or has the world finally thrust upon me the one thing that cannot be helped? The pain that can't be soothed, the fear that can't be calmed.

The grief that can't me mourned.

Maybe that's what it is. Maybe there's some rule that covers this sort of thing. Maybe I'll have to deal with this on my own. I suppose that would make sense, if any of this made any sense.

It is, after all, just a rock.

So I'm pretty disappointed with my stalker community.

I mean, I had one girl surprise me in Las Vegas, but I'm not even sure that PictureGirl counts because she knew me then found my journal.

But I had zero obsessed stalkers in Denver. Just like in there were zero in Cleveland and in St. Louis earlier this year.

The Denver count makes me sad. I had high hopes (Okay, regular hopes. Okay, slim hopes. Okay, it at least crossed my mind) that my favorite Coloradonian would show up at the airport, or at the hotel. She could have at least written a message in blood, professing her undying devotion, on my rental car's windshield.

That would have made the trip worthwhile.

Anyway, I'm home now. My bedroom window is in the Northeast corner of my house. I usually sleep in the nude.

Watch out for bees though. There may be some left out there.

I lucked into it today. I sent a text message off to RockGirl, and in it I included the phrase that I'd been looking for all week.

I feel out of sync.

Something is amiss.

This could be jet lag I suppose. But it's not.

I wish it was. But it's not.

I fear that my needs are no longer a subset of my wants. I fear, in fact, that my needs have been satisfied. And now, now my wants have nothing to anchor them. So they wander aimlessly.

This could be bad.

Well this is kind of interesting, this image that's been stuck in my head since about noon EDT on Wednesday.

I am apparently much more disgusting and typical and hormonal than I thought I was.

Just a quick post here. I don't have many definite plans.

I arrive in Denver at 2:55 on some American Airlines flight from Dallas. Then, I'll get my rental car and drive to Broomfield and check into the Towneplace Suites.

After that, I have no plans. Except for the class I'll be taking on Thursday and Friday. I'd had a brilliant idea for Friday night, but I don't have the funding to pull it off.

I'll probably just stick around Broomfield and maybe see if there are any decent bars there.

Then I leave at like 10:00 Saturday morning and I get back to Louisville at 5:25.

Three or four years ago I had a yellowjacket nest in my yard. I went to the hardware store and bought some foamy shit to kill them. I sprayed their hole. They died.

That's the way it's supposed to work.

This year, this year it's just a teeny bit different.

This year I had four nests. Two in my front yard and two in my back yard.

The two back yard nests seem to have been normal ones. Those bees seem to have been killed with a single application of the foamy shit.

The two front yard nests are occupied by some kind of super yellowjacket. I've sprayed each of those nest with the foamy shit four times. The dude that mows my lawn has sprayed each of these nests at least twice. We're talking an entire can with each spraying.

I guess I should say the dude that used to mow my lawn because he hasn't mowed the front yard in two months. He got sick and tired of being stung. I don't blame him a bit.

I figure that these front yard bees are shampooing with the foamy shit, or brushing their teeth with it. Do bees even have hair and/or teeth? I doubt it. But whatever, they're sure not dying from the stuff.

So today I went back to the hardware store and asked them for something would kill yellowjackets. The dweeb pointed to the cans of foamy shit. I said, "No, the bees in my yard use that stuff to clean their contacts or something. They're immune to it."

So the dweeb called the manager over, and the manager recommended some non-foamy shit that's mostly for hornets. It's supposed to knock them right out of the air. I bought six cans.

I came home and pulled my truck up to one of the nests. I got to where I could clearly see down the hole of the nest. Then I rolled down my window, took a can of the non-foamy shit, and soaked that hole. Then I took another can and soaked it again.

Next, I drove over to the second, larger, nest. This one features a hole big enough that a small child could crawl in. I thought briefly about bribing a small child to go in there with a flyswatter, but alas, I'm fresh out of disposable children.

Back to plan A. Or maybe plan B - I think the foamy shit was plan A. Plan C is sell my house.

I was able to get almost one entire can sprayed into the hole before the super yellowjackets came streaming out of it. I rolled up my window as quickly as I could and I got the fuck out of there.

I drove up and down the road to throw the bees off my trail, then I pulled into my garage.

Just before I typed this I looked out my front door at that second nest. The bees are using the non-foamy shit to fill their new swimming pool. They're having a grand time.