Who's Your Happy Bunny?
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After reading this, you may decide that I'm an asshole.

If you do, then you're in good company, because I agree with you.

I can tell you what happened, but I cannot tell you what I said to make it happen. This stupid discretion thing is such a pain.

So I can tell you that I made MixedSignalGirl cry last night, and that's about it. Even if I tell you that I was being completely honest, even if I tell you that we've always been brutally honest with each other, even if I tell you that I'm as bothered by what I had to say as she was, none of that matters because I can't tell you what I said. I can't tell you because, because...

Fuck! I can't even tell you why I can't tell you.

So feel free to let your imagination run away with you, if that's what you want to do. I made the girl who's probably the only person to love me in over a decade - maybe ever for all I know - cry. I deserve whatever ire your imagination can generate, because I knew before I said anything what the outcome was going to be, and I still said it.

SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: This is completely unrelated, but I'm looking at the comic at davethepa's journal as I write this, and I really wish I could draw. I should work on that I think.

Anyway, there are two slightly mitigating factors. First, everything I said was the truth, even though it made zero sense, not even to me. Second, we've had a couple of talks since, and we're okay again. Until next time I suppose. Perhaps she'll learn to not ask questions of me unless she's sure that she wants to know the answer.

Not that I'm blaming her. Not at all. It's my stupid heart's fault. Again.

All of this drama took place at Buckhead's. I'd gone there to pass the time last night, rather than just sit around the house waiting for Nat to show up in my visitor list. Plus, I did need to talk to MixedSignalGirl. Plus they still have Upland Chocolate Stout on tap.

I called her from the Hooter's parking lot, and I made a quick run into that place to talk with my cousin Jeff for a few minutes, then I went across the street to Buckhead's.

As I said, I can't get into the conversation too much. Or at all.

To drink, I had a couple pints of Upland Chocolate Stout (262) and, after MixedSignalGirl had left in tears, I had a Weihenstephaner (311). Then I remembered to order some fried green tomatoes for VigilanteGirl.

I wrote recently that sometimes shit just happens. Well, shit is definitely happening. I wish I could explain it. I wish I could have explained it to MixedSignalGirl, and I wish I could explain it to my readers, and I wish I could explain it to myself.

But I can't, so I must be an asshole.

And that's right back where I started with this entry.

You ever wake up at 2:00 AM and think, wow, I sure am stupid?

How about, do you ever wake up at 2:00 AM and think, wow, Dave sure is stupid?

At about the time I arose from my semi-sleep with the realization that the title of that last comic made no sense whatsoever, at about the time I decided that I'd never get back to sleep until I changed it, my phone rang.

MixedSignalGirl.

"Hey, were you awake?" she asked.

"Hi. I actually just woke up," I answered.

"Me too. You know what woke me up?"

"What?"

"I can't figure out if you like Sam Adam's beer or not. It's driving me crazy. And that title makes no sense."

"I just realized the same thing! I'm going to change it now," I said, thinking that this was a little weird.

"What are you going to change it to?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter," I answered. "Anything would be better than that."

"Okay, call me tomorrow?"

"I will. Bye Miss."

I never did tell her if I like Sam Adam's or not. That'll give us something to talk about tomorrow.

Anyone who's been sitting on the edge of their seat, waiting for my tale of drunken debauchery, is going to be very disappointed.

It was just not that exciting of a night. It most certainly was not the kind of party that RockGirl suggested.

I went to this very nice house that belongs to a friend of my sister, Dina. I spent the night talking with Dina and her fiancé Kenny and SpoonsGirl and her husband. I didn't know anyone else, and I really didn't see the point of getting to know anyone else. I'm kind of a jerk sometimes, I guess.

So we played some darts. SpoonsGirl's husband and I won two out of three games.

We played some Euchre. I think that Dina and I won 2 out of three games, then later Kenny and I lost two out of three.

To drink I had a couple bottles of Weihenstephaner (295) and a couple bottles of Alaskan Smoked Porter (286).

The highlight of the night, for me, was going outside at about 11:45 and doing my little yearly rehash thingy. Just like last year, I ended up talking with a ghost. But it was okay. I got through it, and came back into the house at about 12:15.

It's 2006. Yay.

Wow, one of the few resolutions I made for 2006 was to stop writing drivel and I couldn't even make it through the very first entry of the year.

I wish that I could memorize my little midnight conversations.

I call them conversations even though they're anything but that. Soliloquies would be more appropriate.

I wish I could record them, and hover my finger over a play button, until the next time I see her, then jab that button, stand back, and watch the magic unfold.

For some reason, at midnight on each December 31st, I know exactly what to say.

The rest of the year I'm tongue-tied and bewildered.

But tonight, tonight at midnight specifically, I was smooth.

Tonight at midnight, she would have at least listened.

And, tonight at five minutes after midnight, she would have at least understood.

If you want to come, you have my number. I will come and get you if you ask.

We may turn out to be little more than distractions to each other, but I think we may both need a little distracting right about now. I certainly do.

I tell myself that I should just stay home tonight.

I tell myself that it would be fun, I could drink some beer and post entries about my ever-increasing drunkenness.

I tell myself that I could just stay here by myself and have a good time and not end up feeling sorry for myself.

I tell myself that I could stop myself from picking up the phone.

I lie to myself.

I'm going out tonight. To a party held by people that I don't know. Some friends of my sister, so I won't really be crashing I guess.

I tell myself that I won't sneak away just before midnight, and that I won't spend those few minutes as the year changes talking to her in my head.

I tell myself that I won't close my eyes and imagine her standing next to me.

I tell myself that it won't be exactly like last year.

I lie to myself.

Man, what a difference a day makes!

The past two nights had been pretty much unbearable at Rich O's, but Friday night was pretty decent. Good in fact.

I arrived a little after 7:00. It was pouring down rain. There were some strangers scattered around but the living room area was empty except for DooRagGirl and LaptopGirl's ex, who I will start calling WheatDude for reasons that should be obvious.

I ordered an Upland Chocolate Stout (180) and enjoyed that while marveling at our ability to have an actual discussion without having to shout. Mostly we just talked about how pleasant it was. I also made a couple of beer recommendations to WheatDude.

A little before 8:00 HatGirl called me, I guess because DooRagGirl's phone was broken. She wasn't sure if she was going to come in. I handed my phone to DooRagGirl so she could talk some sense into her friend, then I crossed my fingers and toes and eyes.

It worked! DooRagGirl went to pick her up.

Let's see, I talked with SassyGirl. She was on her way for a quick drink or two before work. That's okay though - she just drives zillion-ton trains for a living. But you don't have to steer them.

At about the time DooRagGirl came back with HatGirl I was finishing my second Upland (200), and I'd started my third (220).

I took the girls over to see the port tasting party going on in the new area:

We were very quiet, so as not to startle the port people.

From my fourth Upland, I only drank about half the glass (230). This was because I'd had the brilliant idea of having an Alaskan Smoked Porter put on ice for later. Everybody wanted to try what I'd been touting as one of the world's best beers, so I let everybody have a sip.

I think they all liked it - especially DooRagGirl who tried to steal my glass.

I feel the need to interject here that I'm probably going to have to have a talk with WheatDude. Just because a girl is in a slightly bad mood, that does not mean that she's "ripe for the picking," as he so crassly suggested. Plus I'm a gentleman.

Once WheatDude had left, and SassyGirl had left, and these other two people who are friends of SassyBoy had left, it was just Me, DooRagGirl, and HatGirl. I moved over to the throne and HatGirl moved over to the loveseat. It was like I was in a little cocoon made of hot girls. Hot girls with boyfriends, as I'd had to remind WheatDude several times.

At one point I started craving Steak N Shake, and I decided that I was going. This extra driving meant that I had to cut my drinking off a little early. DooRagGirl was more than happy to relieve me of the last of my Alaskan Smoked Porter (238).

I had a couple Diet Cokes. HatGirl wanted to go to Steak N Shake. DooRagGirl didn't want to go unless her boyfriend could get off work, so I ended up taking HatGirl in my truck. Good thing I'd just given it its annual cleaning.

Well Steak N Shake was a bust, and we ended up going to Denny's instead. This was the first time I'd been in this particular Denny's since about a zillion years ago when I took SpoonsGirl there. The food was yummy, the company was charming.

I dropped HatGirl off at her house and managed to find my way out of that maze of streets, then I came home and dicked around until a little after 4:00.

I've got a couple of days to try to get my sleep schedule back to normal, or Tuesday morning is going to really suck.