One time this guy was at the gas station, and he ran into a girl he'd dated a long time ago. The girl tried to talk to him, but the guy was totally disgusted by the girl's painted-on eyebrows, so he went home instead of talking.

The moral of this story is that having a great ass doesn't make up for being a total weirdo.

Would you rather have a fun fling or a lasting relationship?
Flings are for kids. I haven't been a kid for a long time.
What was your longest relationship?
I knew you were going to ask that. Right at two years. Or maybe four years. Depends on how you count.
What is your favorite personality trait?
Sweetness.
What is the most romantic thing a significant other could do?
One time a girl filled my house up with balloons when I was at pool league. That was pretty romantic.
When you are dating someone, what is the most important thing to you?
Comfortable intimacy.
Do you like pet names (ex: baby, sweetheart...)?
Sure, I suppose. I mean, I usually use them.
What is your ideal night out with a significant other?
Varies.
What is your ideal night in with a significant other?
Varies.
Would you be able to tell someone you love them, even if you didn't feel it?
Every time I've said those words, I've truly believed them. I'd never lie about something like that.
Do you like relationships that involve serious commitments?
Yes.
If you ever got engaged, how would you want it to happen?
I'd want to ask, then I'd want her to say yes. And I'd want her to refrain from issuing bullshit last-minute demands that she knew I'd never agree to.
If you were engaged, would you want a wedding as soon as possible?
I think I'd leave that decision up to my bride, but my own preference would be to marry sooner rather than later. Once you figure out who you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right away.
Do you like to talk about the future when in a serious relationship?
In a serious relationship, I like to talk about all sorts of things. Everything should be fair game.
Do you prefer a sensitive open relationship or a strong silent type?
The former. And I just figured out that a chick wrote this survey.
When in a relationship do you have to have contact with your partner on a daily basis?
Unless there's a good reason, daily contact should happen naturally. When it feels forced, then something is probably wrong.
Do you like public displays of affection?
Occasionally. It depends. Hand-holding and brief kisses in a bar are okay. Anal sex on the subway is bad.
Is there anything you won't tolerate while in a relationship?
Infidelity.
What is one thing that you value most in a relationship?
Honesty.
Would you ever be able to handle a long-distance situation?
I suppose it would depend on the situation. It would certainly be tough.
Do you believe in moving in together before engagement or marriage?
It's 2008, I think living together before marriage is almost mandatory these days.

Sometime during the late 60s, I was a kid. I don't really know if it was the 1760s or the 1960s or the 1460s or whatever - it was a long time ago, plastic was invented. More specifically, plastic milk jugs were invented.

My parents, apparently, thought this was the greatest invention ever, beating sliced bread by a half-mile at least. Or maybe it was just my mom that loved the things. I can't really imagine that Dad cared one way or another.

Anyway, Mom, at least, loved the things. Our refrigerator was always full of them. And they, in turn, were full of various random liquids. Only one of which was ever actual milk.

I have very few really clear memories of being that young. I remember seeing my mom holding my baby sister. I remember seeing the first man walk on the Moon. I remember running through a sliding-glass door. And I also remember grabbing the wrong plastic milk jug, three times.

These occasions were all pretty much the same. I'd stumble out of bed at the crack of 10:00 AM or something like that. Dad would be at work. Mom would be at work. Since, even at that young age, I knew that starving to death would be unpleasant, I'd make myself some breakfast.

When you're six years old-ish, making breakfast really means pouring a bowl of cereal and milk.

That was always the plan, anyway.

And, usually, that's the way it worked out.

The first time that plan failed. It was a Honeycomb day. Dad must have gotten a bonus or something, because Honeycomb cereal was a very rare treat to us. I remember, several times, getting up extra early, like at 9:59, so that I could get to the Honeycomb before my sister ate it all.

Anyway, one morning I grabbed a box of Honeycomb, and I grabbed a bowl, and I grabbed a spoon, and I grabbed a plastic milk jug from the fridge. I sat at the little white table that was reserved for us kids (because we were such precious snowflakes) and I made myself some breakfast.

I don't think that my mouth was more than halfway closed on that first bite before I knew that something was terribly wrong.

Not Milk.

Orange Juice.

Let me tell you something. Orange juice is good. Honeycomb cereal is good. But the two combined?

Not so good.

That was the first time.

The second time it was generic Cheerios and tea.

The third time it was, once again, generic Cheerios. But the third time it was, instead of milk, it was chocolate milk.

And it was fucking yummy.

I want some right now.

Today, I caved on the whole beer thing. I had myself a Stupid Arrogant Bastard (66). I actually ordered it like that, with capitalization and everything.

It wasn't too bad. I might even like it if they'd take out half the hops.

But then I did something stupid. I'd bought two bottles of Stone Smoked Porter to bring home, and I totally forgot them when I left.

And now I can't seem to motivate myself to go back and get them.

(Update: Okay, so I went back and got my beers. Never before have I moved so qiuckly - I bet I was in and out of there in less than a minute.)

So today was probably the last AlliDay ever. Though I guess there may be one more, next week. AlliGirl is changing shifts and won't be working Wednesday day-shift anymore.

Wednesday. What a boring word that is. And, from now on, it will probably be a boring day.

My Newcastle (10200), by the way, was yummy.

So I've been thinking about having a midlife crisis. I suppose I'm about due, as I haven't had one since I first moved to Seattle. I tried to have one a few years ago, but it never did catch on.

That Seattle midlife crisis was fun, maybe I could have fun again.

Anyway, I remember seeing a video on the internet, a long time ago. This dude was sitting on a motorcycle in a driveway, revving it up and showing off or something, and he did something wrong and smashed into the garage door.

I think it killed him, so it probably wasn't as funny as it would have otherwise been.

I'm pretty sure that, should my new midlife crisis hold a psychological gun to my head and force me to buy a motorcycle, I'm pretty sure that I'd at least do better than that guy did. I don't think I'd crash into my garage door. Nope, I've always pictured myself as being one of those guys who'd run over an acorn or something and that would cause me to wipe out and kill myself.

I'd probably be better off with a Corvette. I think a Corvette would be pretty much acorn-proof. Unless there was a whole shitload of them. Part of some vast conspiracy, perhaps.

Plus, I think chicks dig Corvettes even more than motorcycles.

(Update: I've been informed that motorcycles are more attractive, in general. But I think I'll stick with my opinion, because I believe that the attractiveness of being a living person vs. being a corpse would far outweigh that of having two wheels vs. four.)

Went to Rich O's today, after work. And, for the first time in a long time, I saw absolutely nothing appealing on the board. I'd been kinda craving a Weihenstephaner, but that keg had blown. I'd kinda been craving a draft Marzen, but that keg hasn't arrived yet. Yesterday I had an NABC Flat Tyre (1009), but I didn't feel like having another one today.

The beer board looked so uninteresting to me that I actually considered having an Arrogant Bastard. But then I remembered that I don't like Arrogant Bastard all that much.

So I ended up just driving home.

At least tomorrow is AlliDay, so I'll get to have a yummy Newcastle.

Is it weird, that I have this urge to publish, but not to write?

I think it's weird.

Anyway, here's what I wrote about a dream I once had. This was in 2006, a period otherwise known as an asstillion years ago.

I only turned my back for a second, and they all died. All of the hot girls, dead.

This party had suddenly taken a very bad turn.

What could I have been thinking? Rat poison is, by definition, poison, and who was I to say which small amount might be safe and which would not? Which would bring a nice high and which would bring death?

As I moved my hand over their bodies to check for any remaining signs of life, of hope, it was as if darkness flowed out from my fingers and onto everything around me.

I could no longer see their faces.

This might normally have been considered a good thing, what with them being dead and all. But this time, this time it was not. For as I reached to check for a pulse, I instead found the toothy grimace of agonizing death, seemingly about to bite down and rip at my flesh. Instead of the faintest of breaths, I instead found hands contorted by pain into claws that seemed to grasp at me, as if to pull me in with them.

But it was only my imagination. The dead do not bite. The dead do not grasp.

The darkness flowing from me continued to spread. The lamp in the corner served only to illuminate itself - its light no longer reached the walls, or the floor, or the ceiling. Or the grotesque scene on the bed.

I knew that I had to get away from there, from that macabre display, from the darkness.

So I ran.

I ran, and the darkness continued to flow from my body. It became an expanding wake of nothingness which I pulled along behind me.

I ran faster.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, but it was not fast enough. I bent forward, and I began to use my arms as well. I dug my fingers into the ground and I pulled with my arms as mightily as I pushed with my legs. I became something else. Something no longer human. A beast. Running from darkness that I myself had created, that I myself continued to spread.

A moment of clarity struck me.

I stopped.

The darkness caught up with me, surrounded me, enveloped me. It began to contract and flow back into me.

As I stood, panting, in that shrinking circle of darkness, I saw lights in the distance.

Then I woke up.

I miss dreaming.

I still don't feel like writing anything new, but this old entry from January is pretty fucking apropos. Or however you spell that.

I deny this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

Today was, of course, AlliDay.It wasn't too bad at The Pub. A little more crowded than I'd have preferred, and one shithead took my seat while I was outside making a phone call. But I got to talk to AlliGirl in little snippets, and her sunny disposition helped to brighten my mood a little. Also, it was freaking cold today.

---

I refuse this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

I also found out something pretty interesting and a little intriguing. Some little gestures, which I never really paid any attention to at all, back when they were happening. I've always admitted that I have a problem taking hints. This may have just been more of that, but I really think that it was more of a timing problem. Like, six hours earlier, and everything might have turned out quite differently. But, by the time the gestures started happening, it was too late. I was utterly distracted by then. Oh well. I'd have only given us about a week, anyway.

---

I ignore this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

After work, I stopped at Rich O's for a beer and a pizza. I had several insane minutes when I first arrived, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. Just me, being weird. Plus, I had PearlGirl look, and she verified what I'd been babbling about.

The resemblance was really uncanny.

---

I reject this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

I might get to see HatGirl this weekend. It's been a million gazillion years. Seems that way, anyway. I hope hope hope I get to see her.

---

I doubt this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

Tomorrow is Thursday. VacuumLady will come and clean my house and terrorize my cats for a while. I'll come home and immediately start slobbing the place up again. It's the kitchen that I can't seem to keep up with. And my bedroom. Those damn piles of laundry are back with a vengeance.

---

I am riddled with holes, yet I still stand. It's not that I'm particularly strong, I don't think. That's not why I'm, successfully so far, refusing to let myself fall. Again. Over this. It's just that I know that my falling would serve no purpose except to make things worse than they already are. And it would also prove Everyone On Earth right. I refuse to fall and, by refusing, I laugh in the face of Everyone On Earth. The fuckers.

---

I've been having a problem with sleep lately, and I think I've figured out why. Because, waking up to this new reality, that's the worst time for me. This is something that's certainly different, this time around.

My mind still clouded by the fading fog of sleep, only the most powerful thoughts shine through. And I feel myself falling, sliding, de-evolving into that past version of myself that nobody liked very much. That I didn't like very much. So I fight with everything that I have, and it always seems touch and go for those first few minutes while the fog fades away. Then, somehow, so far anyway, I emerge triumphant.

So, I don't think it's really sleep that's the problem. It's the fear of waking up that's getting to me.

---

I accept this new reality, and still, it keeps fucking relentlessly slamming into me.

Okay, so I've lost all motivation for this journal. For a lot of things. I need to step back for a while.