Well, the hot blondes didn't win The Amazing Race, despite my fervent rooting.

This certainly puts a damper on my plan, which consisted of:

1. Hot blondes win The Amazing Race.


2. Hot blondes use their winnings to purchase me as their sex slave.

1. Stephanie wins Survivor.


2. Stephanie uses her winnings to purchase me as her sex slave.

I found myself walking down a dirt road, one so overgrown with weeds that you could hardly tell it was ever a road at all. Only the deep ruts running into the distance betrayed its existence as anything but just another field.

Ahead of me, the road stretched to a horizon hidden in fog. I turned my head to look behind me and saw the same visage. I was on a road between two nowheres.

How did I end up here?

Where did I come from?

Where was I going?

I kept walking. There was nothing else to do.

Eventually, I came upon a fence that slanted in from the right and then turned to parallel the road. Just a picket fence, once gleaming white perhaps but now the faded gray of neglect, the fence accompanied me on my journey. The fence became my companion as I walked the road. Its gaps and its raggedness and its general state of disrepair, these all gave it character, gave it a personality that resonated within me somehow.

I knew that the fence meant something. The fence was important.

I continued to walk, and I continued to wonder.

(to be, um, continued)

Took a long nap after work tonight, from 6:30 until 11:30. I'd planned to sleep for a full eight hours but my cats would have none of that nonsense. They decided to hold an impromptu game of seek and destroy the sheet monster.

The sheet monster of course being by feet, my knees, hands, my groin, or whatever unfortunate part of me happened to be making a lump in the sheet at any particular moment.

My lightest cat, Buddy, weighs seventeen pounds. Happy weighs twenty pounds. Nugget is made of some material so dense that he carries his own gravitational field around with him, and any attempt to weigh him is therefore useless.

So now it's almost 1:00. I've watched the rest of the Survivor reunion show and I'm drinking a yummy Rogue Imperial Stout (62) in an attempt to fuel my creative fires.

I don't think I have any creative fires left to fuel. I've been feeling completely wrung out for the past couple of days. Even when I try to stir the passions within me, I get nothing. I spent a good (just right, not obsessive at all) amount of time yesterday staring at a picture that, at one time, would never fail to inspire me to write something halfway decent.

But yesterday all it inspired me to do was feel like an idiot for wasting a year of my life.

I was talking with CoffeeDude the other night about my 'blog. He'd asked if I was still writing in it. I said of course, but it's become really boring lately. The things that I used to write about are no longer relevant, and all that's left are pretty bland topics. Then, when something interesting does happen, this fucking discretion thing kicks in and so I don't give the subject all of the attention it deserves.

But I suppose, like all other slumps, this too shall pass. Eventually.

(response to message)

Oh yeah? Prove it. What's her name?

I'm totally bored and emotionally wrung-out today. I tried to write a stupid entry but my UPS is broken and it kept shutting my computer off. Rather than attempt for a fourth time to write my stupid entry, I'll post this entry fragment that I found on my computer desktop today. This was to have been the end of another entry. For some reason I didn't post this part before.

But wait, there's more!

People in the know tell me that it's understandable that I'm stressed right now. Many of these people are the same ones that have been telling me for months that I wasn't making any sense. Now all of a sudden it's okay? Now all of a sudden you understand? This pisses me off. Don't pretend to understand when you clearly don't. Don't try to make me feel better when your only incentive is to feel more comfortable around me. If you don't feel comfortable around me, then kindly stay the fuck away.

I am not your doll that you can dress up and pose and show off to your friends.

After Friday's crowding, Saturday night was just what I needed.

I got to the bar a little after 9:00, and stood at the bar and talked with SpikeBoy for a few minutes. He's still seeing the same girl, so I may have to come up with a nickname for her. We'll see.

The rest of the night I spent over in the living room area talking with the likes of CoffeeDude, DooRagGirl, and GreenBeerDude and his friends. Everything was nice and quiet and relaxing.

To drink, I had a Bell's Kalamazoo Stout (95), then one of those Strubbe things that I'd had on Friday (20), and finally a yummy Alaskan Smoked Porter (222), which had managed to sneak back onto the shelves without my noticing.

We had some interesting conversations that I may end up writing some entries about, so I'm going to cut this entry short.

On the way home, I saw that VigilanteGirl was still working, so I stopped and saw her. When she found out that I'd gotten home Friday she was a little pissed. She threw candy bars at me and completely denied seeing me, and ignoring me, when I'd stopped to see her first thing Friday. Women are strange.

I've been tagged by allaboutme to do this five weird things about me exercise. I'm supposed to list the five things and then tag five other people to do the same thing.

I actually did some entries a year ago about my quirks, flaws, and assets. In the quirks entry I listed eleven things. I'll now try to come up with five new ones.

1. I have this rock. I talk to my rock and take it everywhere. In a few days I have to send the rock back to where it came from, and I'm thinking about throwing a going-away party for the rock. Did I mention that it's a rock?

2. I'll make up new, cat-themed lyrics to songs and sing them to my cats. I make Buddy dance with me while I do this.

3. I've developed the habit of smelling my beer before each sip, to enhance the tasting experience, and now that habit has spread to everything I drink. Doesn't matter if it's water or Diet Vanilla Coke or orange juice or whatever - I'm smelling it before each sip.

4. I brush my teeth, then rinse with this supposedly "cool mint" mouthwash that burns my mouth so much that I brush my teeth again right away to neutralize the mouthwash.

5. When I'm on the phone at home I can't just sit and talk. I have to either walk around or shoot pool or straighten things up - anything but just sit and talk.

I'm not going to tag anybody. I think everyone else on Earth has already done this anyway.

I woke up this morning and I thought for a few seconds that it was Sunday instead of Saturday. I'm very glad I was wrong.

Got home yesterday at around 3:30. RealTrainGirl called me about 30 seconds after I walked off the plane, wanting to know if I was going to Rich O's. Duh.

While I was gone they'd gone ahead and declared Winter here. Temps in the 20s and a nice little coating of snow and ice on the surface streets.

My cats were excited to see me, in part I'm sure because they had no food in their dispenser thingy, but I also like to pretend that they noticed I was gone and actually missed my company.

Took a quick nap. I didn't really need one, but it just seemed like the thing to do.

Rich O's was very fucking crowded. I spotted RealTrainGirl sitting on the throne, but there were no openings around her, so I stood at the bar. I had myself an Upland Winter Warmer (110), back on tap finally, and traded some text messages back and forth with RealTrainGirl about who are all these fuckers? and why won't they leave?

Well, some of the fuckers did leave, or at least they left the sofa, so I went over there and sat. RealTrainGirl was glad to see me. She missed me. Awwww!

The place was very loud. We sat and drank and talked. MusicalHippyDude and GlassesGirl and RedHairGirl were sitting on the loveseat. Some old guy that I don't know was next to me on the sofa. GreenBeerDude and a friend of his came and managed to squeeze in somehow.

My next beer was something new for me:

Strubbe Couckelaerschen Doedel (10)

(draft) A very nice beer, with a good blend of various unidentifiable spices. I got no citrus at all, and I'm glad for that. Quite yummy actually.

So then those people wanted to make a quick run to Molly Malone's in Louisville. They wanted me to go, but I didn't really see the point - both girls have boyfriends - so I told them I'd wait and save their seats if I could.

I couldn't. Save their seats anyway.

ProfessorDude asked me if I wanted to play some euchre. Yay! I haven't played euchre with actual humans in years. I ended up partners with a guy I'll call EuchreDude, while ProfessorDude (henceforth to be called LonerBoy) was partnered with some hot girl that I'll call HotEuchreGirl.

At about this time I ordered a Spezial Rauchbier Lager (970).

I think that EuchreDude and I won two out of three games at Rich O's, or maybe three out of five. Whatever, we closed the place down and went over to Jack's to play some more.

LonerBoy offered to buy us all beers, so I had myself a PBR (24) just for kicks.

We played a few more games. I think that EuchreDude and I won the majority of them. At about 3:00 I let PretentiousShithead take my place and I went to White Castle and came home.