That eternity,

was over in an instant.

That single instant,

seemed to drag on forever.

I longed for what I dreaded.

No, my dad hasn't come back to life, reincarnated by some cruel twist of fate as a Bud Light drinker.

Though I suppose I wouldn't complain if that did happen. There are worse things to be reincarnated as. Pubic lice. Opossums. One of Michael Jackson's kids.

Anyway, that little scene depicted above happened back in 1995 or so. Dad's favorite beer, Falls City, had been sold and had its recipe changed. Out of protest Dad switched to Bud Light for a while. He liked to say that he only switched back once the recipe had been changed back to what it was, though I doubt that he really believed that.

I think he simply realized that, in his own way, he was a bit of a beer snob, and to drink mass-produced industrial swill, even in protest, was just too much for him to do.

I know the feeling. I'm a beer snob myself. The only difference is that I choose to drink good beers, while Dad was content to stick with what he'd grown up drinking.

Since I'm the son of an alcoholic, and since I'm also someone that's been known to imbibe occasionally myself, you might be surprised that in my life I only spent maybe six hours total in bars with my dad.

I spent the first fifteen years of my adult life living all over creation, and when I did come home to visit, I'd usually hang out with my sister Dina. Or, when Dad had some time off work, we'd go hang out at one of his places in the country.

When I did finally move back home, Dad died shortly afterwards. That sucked.

I've been thinking a lot today about Dad. I'm not really sure why. Maybe because a few days ago would have been his and Mom's 43rd wedding anniversary. Maybe because I'm tired of thinking about women. Maybe there's no reason except that I had a dream with him in it a couple of days ago.

I've often been accused, mainly by my youngest sister Neisha, of turning into my maternal grandfather. I guess this is because I'm a grouch sometimes, so I'll concede that there is some slight resemblance. Sometimes.

But the biggest resemblance, I like to think anyway, is with my dad.

I already know that many of my interests I got from him. I already know that we shared the same tastes in humor, and books, and movies. I already know that he was a romantic at heart, and that's something I've discovered about myself over the past couple of years. He valued his privacy, maybe even more than I do.

I know what kind of person he was. He was the best. But what I don't really know is what he was like. I mean, we'd hang out at his cabin or in his apartment, and we'd talk about whatever, but there was almost always that father/son vibe going on. I never really had many chances to see what he was like when he stepped outside of his role as my father.

I wish he was still alive. That goes without saying. I wish I'd had the chance to know him as others knew him. To know him as Dave instead of as Dad.

And that brings me back to the bar.

Did he, like me, have a few people who he'd hang out with, or was he more of an everybody's friend type of person? I'm certainly the former, but I don't know how Dad was.

Would he sit at the bar by himself, contemplating life, and be perfectly content doing it? Did he hate crowds of idiots as much as I do? Could he spend an entire night talking with a single person, and feel uncomfortable in a group of more than just a few people? Would he get quiet during those times and just listen to everyone else and make sarcastic comment in his head? When he got bored or disgusted or depressed, would he just get up and leave, like I do?

It really bothers me that I'll never know these things.

If Dad was alive, and we hung out at the same bar, would people guess that he was my father? There was certainly no physical resemblance, but what about the other things? Am I enough like him that people, upon hearing about our relationship, might nod their heads and say, "I knew there was something similar about you two!"

Could I go down to Ramsey's bar in Derby, and talk to one of the regulars there for a while, and have him say, "You know, you remind me a lot of a friend of mine. His name was Dave, too. He died seven or eight years ago. He was a great guy."

Do I carry enough of him around inside me that, in a way, he lives on even today?

I'd like to think so, but I just don't know. And now, now I doubt that I ever will.

There's something that you just don't seem to understand.

When you're in the elevator and it stops at your floor, and the doors open, you seem confused. Allow me to ease that confusion.

At that point, your job - nay, your sole reason for existing, is to get out of that elevator as efficiently as you can

Not to continue yakking with the person next to you.

Not to dig in your purse for your keys.

Not to slowly walk out with your friend while you continue yakking with her.

Not to slowly walk out backwards as you continue yakking with the person who is remaining on the elevator.

Not to almost leave the elevator, but then turn around and block the door so you can continue yakking with the person who is remaining on the elevator.

Just get out of the damn elevator so I, and the others that have been waiting, can get in and get on with our lives.

Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.

You stupid bitch.

(This entry brought to you by Alaskan Smoked Porter.)

Stay away.

If you value, even a little, whatever good mood you might happen to be in, then just stay away from me for a while.

I will ruin your mood. I will open my big fat mouth, and I will vomit the truth all over you, and it will not be pretty.

SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: Often, when I write something like this, my sister calls me and asks if it's her that I'm ranting about and/or to. If, for example, I write about how pissed I am at someone, she'll call me and ask if it's her that I'm pissed at. Of course I tell her that it's not. I wonder why, when I write about some all-consuming love or even some mild crush that I'm feeling, she never calls me then to see if that's about her. I guess there are limits to her paranoia.

Anyway, I don't think that I want to hold anything back anymore. At least not for a while.

Holding things back has gotten me exactly nowhere. Telling the truth has gotten me exactly nowhere.

But at least, if I tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth - at least then I might be able to sleep at night. Instead of being up all fucking night when I have to work the next day. Again.

I want to be able to sleep again. I really do.

So just stay away from me.

Seriously, back the fuck off.

Wow, I'm at 6,976 JournalSpace readers.

So I'll probably hit 7,000 sometime today.

For some reason, I want it to be for a real entry. Not a stupid list. Not a comic. I want it to be something a little bit deeper.

I don't really have anything deep, so this will have to do.

A friend and I have been discussing the ignore game lately. The ignore game is quite simple: Whoever initiates contact - an email, a phone call, a text message, whatever - gets one point. The goal of the ignore game is to have the lowest score.

I am a champion at this game.

I almost never contact anyone first. I always respond when contacted, but that's it. For me to actually initiate contact is pretty rare.

I guess I should point out that this game is played mainly against people with whom you have a crush or other romantic interest, or at least against someone who you suspect has such an interest in you. You play the game to find out if your opponent is interested in you or not. It's not as quick as simply asking, but it's a lot safer to the ego.

It is very important, and I cannot stress this enough - the other person must not know that you're playing.

Because then it's just a stubborn contest, and it can last for years.

Because you know you care, here's every town I've ever lived in, in order:

Maplewood, Indiana: 1965-1966
Lanesville, Indiana: 1966-1971
Maplewood, Indiana: 1971-1983
San Antonio, Texas: 1983
Biloxi, Mississippi: 1983
Belleville, Illinois (3 places): 1983-1985
Mascoutah, Illinois: 1985-1986
Belleville, Illinois: 1986
Bellevue, Nebraska (4 places): 1986-1989
Plattsmouth, Nebraska: 1989-1991
Bellevue, Nebraska: 1991-1992
Auburn, Washington: 1992-1993
Kent, Washington: 1993-1994
Auburn, Washington: 1994
Metairie, Louisianna: 1994-1995
Kent, Washington: 1995-1997
Anchorage, Alaska: 1997
Kent, Washington: 1997-1998
Memphis, Tennessee: 1998
Maplewood, Indiana: 1998-1999
Georgetown, Indiana: 1999-present

Isn't that exciting?

Four jobs I have had:
1. Computer Programmer
2. Pool League Operator
3. Bartender
4. Computer Consultant

Four Movies I can watch over and over again:
1. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
2. Independence Day
3. Dances With Wolves
4. The Matrix

Four Places I have lived:
1. Bellevue, Nebraska
2. Kent, Washington
3. Metairie, Louisianna
4. Anchorage, Alaska

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. Pizza Hut thin-crust ham & pineapple pizza
2. Chili - with beef and pasta, but no beans
3. Blackened fish from Red Lobster
4. Cheeseburger and fries

Four TV shows I like:
1. 24
2. Lost
3. Survivor
4. My Name is Earl

Four places I've vacationed:
1. Las Vegas, Nevada
2. Portland, Maine
3. Gatlinburg, Tennesse
4. Lake Chelan, Washington

Four sites I visit Daily:
1. Journalspace
2. Fark
3. Dooce
4. Slashdot

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. At home
2. Las Vegas
3. Belgium
4. Antarctica

So I'm not in the best of moods right now.

Hard to believe, I know. I'm usually nothing but giggles and grins and I shit fluffy bunnies.

I don't know what that means.

After work I went by Rich O's. SassyGirl's Gay Night thingy is really picking up steam, and I'm not needed there anymore. In fact, I'm quite literally in the way. I realized this fact pretty quickly, so I just had myself a Dark Horse Tres Blueberry Stout (80) and then left.

I didn't even bother to say goodbye to anyone. I do that sometimes, partly because I'm a dick, but mostly because I don't want to have to explain myself and my mood when a bunch of strangers are sitting around listening.

Right now would be a good time to have a million dollars. Quite unlike all those other times when having a million dollars would just suck. If I had it right now, I'd go somewhere. I don't know where I'd go, but I'd just disappear for a while. No cell phone. No laptop. No nothing. I was reading another journal today in which the guy wrote about maybe going to Russia or Japan. The idea the guy had was to just get away from everything - including the language and the cultures that he's accustomed to.

It sounded like a good idea to me. But, then again, a lot of things sound like a good idea until you actually do them.

I did think about traveling a lot today. Easter weekend is coming up, and I'll be going somewhere for that. I don't have a fucking clue where though. I think about maybe going back to Portland, or maybe New York City, or maybe even Niagara Falls. I also think about going to Myrtle Beach, and that's probably my leading choice right now, though I don't know why.

In the Fall, I really think that I want to go to Hawaii. I've been saving my miles up for years. First, I saved enough for a trip for one, then I saved up enough for a first-class trip. Next, because I used to be an actual optimist if you can believe that, I saved up enough for two people to take the trip.

See, the idea was that I'd have someone special to go with me.

Ha ha ha ha ha.

I kill me.

I guess I could go to Hawaii by myself, and that way I could also go to Jamaica or something. Or Europe.

My company has offices all over the world. I've hinted several times that I'd like a chance to be on a team that visits these offices someday. Maybe I should hint more strongly.

I could go to Australia and find out what happened to Jodie.

I could go to London and try to find EnglishGirl.

I could get the fuck away from my life here for a while. That's the most important part.