There seems to me a misconception at Rich O's lately. I'm sure I've heard this particular misconception expressed before, but I've heard it twice within the last couple of weeks, and so it may be gaining popularity. At least among the cretins.

The first time, it was this one supremely obnoxious guy. He tried to play himself off like he was some kind of uber regular who'd been coming in since the dawn of time, but my personal opinion is that he was just trying to fit in. Perhaps compensate for a tiny penis. Anyway, the fucker was loud and overbearing and totally clueless. He actually seemed to think that people actually liked him. What a dumbass.

So, he spouted his bullshit, and I didn't pay much attention to it. I treated his words just as I'd been treating him all night. I ignored them.

Then, last night another person expressed the same misconception. And this particular person should know better. She's been coming in long enough to know better, and she's also smart enough to realize that we're supposed to be living in a society that's somewhat evolved from the days when being the loudest and/or the strongest brought power.

This particular misconception, and I think I've got the quote correct, goes like this:

Move your feet, lose your seat.

Steal someone's seat, and you're an asshole.

Anyway.

Last night was kind of boring. I only had a couple of beers. A Schlenkerla Marzen (2930) and an Upland Wheat (206). I spent most of the night on throne listening to everyone else talk and choking on cigar smoke. This one dude's hot sister told me that I smelled good, and I'm pretty sure that Ric Flair was there. Other than that, it was a dull night.

Last night wasn't as bad as I'd feared. So I'm thankful for that. But it still wasn't a particularly good night.

Rich O's proper seemed to be only about half-full, but that was an illusion. Every ostensibly empty seat was being saved, so there was no place to sit. I ended up going out to the special people room and sitting there like a dork for an hour or so, until MusicalYuppieDude texted me that this one weirdo had finally left and that there was a seat available.

So I sat on the sofa and enjoyed my second NABC Flat Tyre (593) of the night. At least I tried to enjoy it. My taste buds were still pretty messed-up.

Eventually, LaptopGirl emailed me that she was coming in, so that cheered me up some. When LaptopGirl arrived, HairDude gave up his seat at the kiddie table so she and I could sit together. We talked about various crap for an hour or so. It was nice to see her, as it had been a trillion years. I'd been hoping that she might want to split a pizza or something, because I was starving to death, but instead she went home.

I came home shortly afterwards, not quite finishing my third Flat Tyre (609).

Oh yeah, I got to hear this one story about a slut. I suppose it was an interesting story. Then I was talking to StupidGirl on the phone and she told me another story about another slut. What is it with all these sluts all of a sudden?

Okay, I hardly ever bother to do this. Link to things I find on the internet, I mean. Because that would mean less attention would be paid to me. But in this case I can't help myself, because it's funny.

Below are two of my favorites. There are many more at Instructions for looking after baby.

I just wanted to jump on here real quick and predict that tonight is going to be the worst night I've had in years.

I'd like to be wrong about this, of course.

I was just trying to think of something to write about. I was having no luck, as I seldom do. I was thinking about the absurdity of it all. Spending my precious time trying to write things that, by my own admission, I don't really want people to read.

But then the absurdity of the word absurdity struck me in the back of the head, that absurdity having been flung perhaps by my cat Buddy, who for some reason has hoisted himself onto the bookshelf behind me.

This thing I use for a life, such as it is - it's taken on a surreal form of absurdity for several months. I can't think of a single thing that's normal. Oh, I'm not saying that things are bad. Not at all. I know bad. I've lived bad. This isn't bad. It's surreal and absurd.

It's kinda like I'm in a play, and all the world's a stage. I pretend because everyone else is pretending. Even though I cannot really accept that anyone believes this crap, I can't be certain that it's not me who's being fooled. So I keep playing along, even though people keep ad-libbing. Even though people keep breaking character. Even though it's absurd, this show still must go on.

I'm in a weird mood.

The following people forgot my birthday, and now I'm devastated, and I fucking better get a hug to make up for it:

HatGirl

The following people ignored my birthday, even after a reminder, and now I'm devastated, and I fucking wish things were different between us:

LaptopGirl

Neither of these lists should be considered all-inclusive, except maybe the second list, because I don't think I reminded anyone else.

This damn flu has taken things to a very personal level, now. Twice.

The first time was Friday night, when LaptopGirl invited me to Rich O's and I had to decline. Yes, that sucked giant donkey dicks. First time in a million asstillion years that LaptopGirl has invited me to Rich O's, and I had to decline. Woe is me, indeed.

The second time this fucking flu got personal was about an hour ago. I'd forced myself into going to Rich O's, because I'm a stubborn asshole and also because it's Pizza Night. I saw, to my great surprise, that NABC Cone Smoker was back on tap.

Yay! My first beer in a week was going to be one of my all-time favorites!

But not so fast there, Speedy. The Cone Smoker (3177) tasted like shit. Not because there was anything wrong with it, but instead because there's something wrong with me. This damn flu has wreaked havoc on my taste buds. And so now even one of my favorite beers is unenjoyable.

And then my pizza tasted like crap, but I was expecting it by that point. Everything has tasted like crap since last Tuesday. I keep feeling like there's some magical combination of herbs and spices that will wake my mouth back up, and make things taste good again, but I just haven't found it yet.

I've been given the green light to return to work tomorrow, at least for a while. I've been sleeping between 18 and 22 hours a day for a week, and so I don't know if I'll be able to stay up long enough to put in a full day of work, but I'll give it a shot.

So, I'm sick again.

That's my excuse. It's weird. It's almost like there's something wrong with it being 70 degrees one day, and then being 9 degrees a few days later. It's like the human body doesn't like that or something. At least my human body doesn't like it.

My body is, apparently, all pussy.

I've begun to doubt that I will ever feel any better. This has been dragging on for 48 hours. Usually I feel better by this time, but today I actually feel worse than I did before. I was thinking about getting a ride to the hospital or something, but I fear that my sister would take one look at me and take me to the funeral home instead. Cut out the middleman and all that.

Anyway, that's what's been up with me. Happy Valentine's Day, if you're into that sort of thing.

For the most part, I'm fine now. More than fine, actually. Good, even.

I haven't moved very far from the edge of this abyss, but that's okay, because I like it here. I may just build myself a cabin and retire here, I like it so much.

I'm like a mountain goat or something. Jumping around this precipice like gravity doesn't apply to me. Like I've learned nothing from the slips of the past.

But sometimes, I do worry a little bit. I think that's only natural. But I don't worry enough to make me step away from this edge. I like it here too much. The view here is really beautiful. It's a goddamn natural wonder, that's what it is.

---

I don't understand why people feel the need to meddle. Always trying to push us together or trying to pull us apart. Why not just let us be? Why not let us make our own mistakes and find our own solutions?

---

I could reach out and find nothing 99% of the time. I could do that forever. Odds are that I will do that forever. But it's my goddamn life, and maybe that's my choice. My life does not need fixing, because it's no longer broken. I'm no longer broken. And all it took for me to heal was to learn to love the pain.

So what if I keep reaching for that same cloud? Someday, I might just grab hold of something solid. Wouldn't that be something?

---

I've written before about how my wants vary. Usually, a particular want will get stuck in my head for a few hours, maybe a day, and then my mind will move on to something else. Some other want. But, this time, I've had the same want rattling around in my head for five days. I'm not sure that this one is going to go away anytime soon. Or ever.

I'm not going to write about what I want. The right person could ask the right question, someday, and I want my answer to be a surprise.

Well, the snowstorm was a dud. Despite some promise early in the evening, it petered out fairly quickly. I'm looking at two inches where I'd been expecting up to ten inches. So I can empathize with the ex-girlfriends of this one fucker at Rich O's.

I have high hopes for the coming ice storm, though.

---

The other night I saw someone reaching out to another person. I watched her reach out, and I watched her get absolutely nothing in response. I can certainly empathize with that, because sometimes it seems like all I do is reach out to find nothing.

Now, to be fair, every now and then people will reach out to me, and I'll either slap their hand away or squeeze it gently then move it aside - it depends on my mood and on who is doing the reaching. Sometimes, I do that. Maybe people think I'm a dick because of it, but I know the truth. I'm just trying to keep both of my hands free, in case they're ever really needed.

---

I'm really excited about this Jumper movie that's coming out. It's one of my favorite books. I know that movies are almost never as good as the books they're based on, but I have a good feeling about this particular movie. Also, I wish I could jump around from place to place like that. It would be cool.

That same guy wrote another book I really like. It's called Wildside. I think that would make a good movie, too.