What if, as the movie title suggests, this really is as good as it gets?
What if I've met the love of my life and I've let her slip through my fingers? What if I never have another friend that I trust implicitly? What if the best years of my life are truly behind me?
Can I survive for another forty years looking backwards?
My 100th beer rating at ratebeer.com:
(bottle) Highly recommended by several people, but I'm not really sure why. I've never had cherry wine, but I'm convinced that I now know what it would taste like. Very sweet, very winey. No bitterness to balance the sweetness at all. Not very good.
Before this I had an Upland Winter Warmer, one of my favorites from last Spring. Yummy.
Was going to go out to the tournament site, but decided to stop by at Rich O's first. Had an NABC Tunnel Vision and decided to skip the (boring to me) one-pocket night at the tournament.
RealTrainGirl and MisunderstoodGirl joined me and we talked for a while about nothing much.
I'm pretty close to my 100th rating at ratebeer.com so I did something I normally wouldn't do - I had an Arrogant Bastard.
(draft) Roasty, malty, hoppy, weirdness. I'd like this more without the bitter finish.
Next I had a Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale.
(draft) One of the better IPAs, but that's not saying too much for someone like me that doesn't like the style. Just decent, nothing more. Not bitter but a little sour.
To end the session I had one of those Hitachino ricey things that I had before. It's weirdness is a little endearing.
Came home at 8:00 and practiced some more 9-Ball.
(response to message)
...you are officially strange.
If you want a private response you need to tell me what password I should use. Perhaps your middle name.
Or just call - it won't kill you. Or just e-mail me.
Your apparent obsession with my food intake is both impressive and disturbing.
Italian sausage and roasted garlic is the answer you seek. If Arni's is the source then pepperoni and sausage. For Papa John's I like chicken and mushrooms.
MisunderstoodGirl wants to know how you're doing.
So do TallLady and RealTrainGirl.
We all miss you, and we all hope that your absence is justified in the end by your happiness.
(If you are not the person you are pretending to be, then never mind, and go fuck yourself.)
I'm sitting here at my computer, waiting for the dryer to dewrinkle my shirt so I can go over to the tournament, and I really want to write something.
I'm not sure exactly what I want to write. I just know that I want it to be good. I've had too many bland entries lately and those entries reflect the blandness of my life. If, I theorize, I can think of something interesting and exciting to write about, then maybe I won't be such a loser.
Wait, that's not right. I'm not a loser.
You have to play to lose.
I am a bench-warmer in the game of life.
So I've met several people (at the tournament) these past few days that only know me from my 'blog. People from the local area, from Russia, a group of Canadians. I even signed my name on one guy's poster. These are people, pool players, that went to this site for the pool movies and articles and then strayed over to this 'blog. Now they keep coming back, and they think that they know me from what they've read. They come up to me and ask me how I'm doing, if I'm really over her leaving, if the flu has made a reappearence. Hell, one girl asked me how much weight I'd lost. She could tell from my videos that I used to be heavier than I am now.
Of course I know that people read this thing. And I know that they're not all relatives and friends. The majority of the readers here are complete strangers to me. Even though I know this it's still pretty surreal to actually meet these people in person. I mean, I don't even know their names and they know all this shit about me.
I find it kind of odd that I don't really care how my 'blog reads to my friends, or to my relatives, but I find myself caring deeply how these strangers are perceiving me. These are people that read this thing because they want to read it, not because they know me and feel an obligation to read, and not simply because they want to know what's going on with my hair, my love life, my liver, etc. They're reading because they're getting to know me and want to know more. Weird, huh?
This 'blog is all that these strangers know of me, and I feel that I owe it to my readers (and to myself) to, at least every now and then, post something brilliant, or insightful, or scandalous.
I want to keep paying this tab, this debt I owe my readers. I want to be funny and compassionate and thoughtful, and I want to be perceived as all of those things.
I want people to like me I suppose. That's pretty normal, right?
Calm and relaxing. Nice and pleasant. These are the words that describe me and my life now. Excited and apprehensive were replaced with tortured and grieving, and they in turn were replaced with mundane and boring.
Well, the dryer just beeped at me, signalling the time to head back to the hotel.
This isn't the entry I wanted to write, that entry is still inside me. I can feel it in my head, rattling around, trying to work its way out.
Not just yet.
Sunday night, still at The Executive West for the tournament, I went to the hotel bar with my friend Bob and his friend Mike. I had a couple BBC Porters. Last year I had this (it's the only decent beer the hotel bar carries) and didn't care for it too much, but this year it is excellent. I don't know if it's because my tastes have changed or because last year it was simply a bad keg.
Anyway, Bob and I caught up with each other a little and talked about the olden days in Nebraska. It was all very nice and pleasant.
Monday night I had a beer with my friend Fred and then sat around the bar having a couple more porters while I did some people-watching. It was also very nice and pleasant.
Life's too nice and pleasant lately.
I need some drama dammit.
...one where empathy exists.
Oh yeah, seeing you was really nice too.
Off tomorrow (yay!) so I went to Rich O's and celebrated virtual Friday.
Well, maybe celebrated is the wrong word. Perhaps observed would be better.
Rich O's was fairly empty and I sat at the island by myself all night. A few of the professional beer drinkers were scattered around, and three semi-cute girls were sitting in the red room, but that's it. Nobody I cared to talk to was present.
Determined to try new beers, and only new beers, tonight, my first selection was a Ridgeway Santa's Butt Porter. Here's what I said about it at ratebeer.com:
(draft) Probably the blandest selection that Rich O's Saturnalia has to offer. A bit of a chocolate smell and taste that's followed up by a very watery finish. Decent but not memorable at all.
Next I had a Hitachino Nest Red Rice Ale.
(draft) Tastes like a pilsner until you swallow, that's when the funkiness takes over. I guess the funkiness was due to the sake yeasts used on the rice. My enjoyment of this beer grew with each sip, but by the time the glass was gone I still didn't like it enough to order another pint.
Finally, I had a XX Bitter De Ranke, a beer with a scary (to me) name.
(draft) The hop aroma was very evident and I was surprised to find such a tame flavor behind it. This is a beer I could drink all night, but I wouldn't want to because it's pretty boring.
So I had a very pleasant and relaxing night, disturbed only by VigilanteGirl's continuing perkiness. My castle walls have been completely rebuilt so she's wasting her time trying to get in. My loss, really.
Just a quick note to say that my vacation starts tomorrow and I'm starting to get pretty pumped about it.
It's not so much the time off work, though that's certainly a big deal.
What I look forward to most is the opportunity to be around pool players again. To be around hundreds of other people that understand, and share, my obsession with poking balls around with a stick.
I'll try to keep up with my messages, and I'll try to even post a new entry every now and then, but I'll make no promises. Especially Friday through Monday, when the Banks tournament is going on, I'll be spending almost all of my non-sleep time at the tournament site.
Those of you who just need to read something here every day should head on over to my pool 'blog as I'll be updating that more regularly with tournament updates, observations, and such.
I went to the Gas-N-Stuff this morning, as I do every work morning, and while I'm paying for my soft drink this dingbat (a past, and so far only, Dumbass of the Day recipient in this 'blog) asks me, "Are you in a good mood today?"
I frowned and answered that I was, and she countered with, "Well you sure don't look like it?"
"Well, maybe I was in a good mood before you asked me that stupid question. At any rate, my mood is actually none of your business."
"Man, maybe you should go home and get up on the other side of the bed."
"Maybe you should go fuck yourself."
Having my mental state questioned by a perfect stranger first thing in the morning, while annoying enough in itself, reveals a bigger problem. It seems that VigilanteGirl has been making my mood a topic of conversation at work.
I may need to give her a spanking or something. That would certainly cheer me up.
