One time there was this kid with really cool hair, and he would often play with this other kid, until he almost burned the other kid's house down by accident. After that, their parents didn't let them play together anymore.

The moral of this story is that just because you have cool hair doesn't mean that you're actually cool.

I'm pretty much forcing myself to write something tonight. I don't know what I'll write about. It will probably be boring.

I have a couple of good ideas for entries, but I can't remember what they are. I wrote them in my notebook, though. So I'll eventually get around to them. Maybe.

Today I was supposed to go shopping, but I didn't. All I did was drive around and get pissed at crowds of shoppers and football fans. The latter are the worst, if you ask me. Not that you asked me, but if you had, that would have been my answer.

Anyway, I did something sort of nice yesterday, and it's been ignored. So that bugs me a little. It might bug me a lot except I've had myself a bottle of yummy Left Hand Smoke Jumper (193).

That reminds me. Last night NotHideousGirl asked me how I'd been doing over the eleven gazillion years since we'd last talked. I decided to pretend that she actually cared, and answer her. My answer seemed, at first, to be a load of drivel. But I thought about that answer, today while I was driving around getting pissed at people, and it's making a bit more sense to me now.

What I said was that I was happy for the most part, but that sometimes I was sad. That wasn't the drivel part. The drivel part was when I went on to say that I'd done some sort of weird 180-degree flip. Instead of being a sad person, I was a happy person. Instead of being a sad person who, every now and then, got into a good mood, I was a happy person who was subject to the occasional bouts of sadness.

Wait, that wasn't the drivel part either. The drivel part came next.

What I said was that the contrast between my varying moods seems to be a lot stronger now than it was before. Like, back when I was sad and I experienced happiness, it was noticeable, but nothing spectacular. Except for one time back in May. But now, now that I'm a happy person, those moments of sadness really stand out to me. Affect me. Turn me into an asshole, some might say. Or a dolt, NotHideousGirl might say.

It's contrast, like I said last night. Black spots against a white background vs. white spots against a black background. They should be the same, more or less. But they're not. Not even close.

I have a theory about this. I think that maybe I'm not really happy at all. Maybe I'm just not sad. I hate to use this word, but maybe I'm content. Maybe I'm lying to myself, and recent events have not quite lifted my spirits as much as I've thought.

That would suck, I think. If all I could manage was content. Because, seriously, I don't think things are ever going to get much better than this.

---

Okay, I guess that answers the question of what I was going to write tonight. I was going to write crap, apparently.

Ta-Da!

Yesterday we had snow and sleet and freezing rain here, pretty much all day. This was strange, because Al Gore keeps saying that won't happen.

I spent my day at home. Messing with a web page design for LaptopGirl in between power outages. I'd planned to do my Christmas shopping, but I didn't feel like dealing with the idiots on the roads. They're bad enough even when the weather's good.

Anyway, a few times in the past, when it's snowed, people have been known to puss out and cower in their homes instead of going out. And, when Rich O's is really dead, they'll close up early. I was a little fearful that they'd be closing early last night, so I went there very early. Like at 6:00 or so. I figured that if it was dead in there I could at least buy a growler to take home.

But it was okay. The place was fairly full. A bunch of people I know were in the living room area, and for some reason they saved the throne for me. So that was nice of them.

I had myself a pint of NABC Cone Smoker, and enjoyed that immensely while I talked with TremensGirl and MusicalYuppieDude and NotHideousGirl. NotHideousGirl and I have agreed that we will each pretend that we share fault for our crumbling friendship. This is a good compromise, I think.

At about 8:00, I remembered that it was the Ides of December, so I got myself into a bad mood. I briefly toyed with the idea of just going home. Actually, I obsessed over that idea for quite a while. But eventually I decided to just have another Cone Smoker (2881) and stop being a baby.

At one point during the night, I observed this conversation:

I will never understand women.

I had the brilliant idea to text BikerGirl and invite her to Rich O's. I'd thought that maybe having NotHideousGirl and me both there might be enough to entice her. This thought helped to slow the descent of my mood, and I ordered another Cone Smoker.

But then I remembered that BikerGirl was working.

I drank about 2/3 (2895) of my beer, but I saw no point in staying any longer, so I came home at 10:00 or so.

Last night, I was late getting to Rich O's, having gotten caught up in some work bullshit exciting opportunity that took longer to resolve than I'd hoped. I didn't get there until after 9:00, an hour after HatGirl had texted me inquiring as to my whereabouts. I feel bad for making HatGirl wait - she does enough of that already.

When I first arrived, it was pretty crowded. So I stood at the end of the bar and chastised PearlGirl a little for almost getting me into big giant trouble the other night. PearlGirl had some cute girl in tow. I forget her name.

Anyway, after some strangers left, and after some preliminary seat-shifting, I found myself in the throne. I had myself an NABC Naughty Claus (43) and talked with HatGirl and LuckyFucker for a while about various nonsense. I also watched the door a lot, out of habit more than out of any sense of optimism.

At about the time HatGirl and LuckyFucker left, I ordered a second Naughty Clause (63). I like this year's version. UPSDude had moved to the loveseat at some point, and I spent the next hour or so babbling to him.

That was pretty much it. The place was only about half-full for most of the night, and it was almost all strangers.

I had most of a glass of Schlenkerla Marzen (2289) and came home a little after midnight.

I am imagining a surfer, who catches what he expects will be a really good wave. He stands on his board, and he rides toward the shore. But the wave never becomes more than a swell in the water. It never rises. It never curls. It never breaks. It's a nice wave, it provides a pleasant ride, but that's all it provides. It is, once everything is said and done, a waste of his time.

It's understandable, this fear and this uncertainty that you feel. How could you not feel these things, given the deceits and disappointments of your past? Life and love have at times conspired against you, making you wary, watchful, suspicious. Maybe even paranoid?

You've never had much to go on, regarding me. You've had a glimpse or two, but not much else. Hearsay has clouded things even more. You don't know what to believe, or what to think, or what to feel, or what to do. A part of you tells you to run, as fast as you can, away from me. But another part is, at least, curious enough to stick around. On the outskirts of a relationship. A fisherman with a bite, but not quite willing to crank the reel. Not quite willing to see what's on the other end of that line.

You wrestle with yourself. And I wait, my heart leaping inside my chest, for a winner to emerge from the dust.

Doubt is universal. Fear is universal. It's perfectly normal for you to feel these things. But you don't need to feel doubt, and you don't need to feel fear. I can take those feelings from you. I can feel those things enough for both of us. And I can handle them, because I'm used to them.

I wish that things were different. I wish that you would trust me, that you would stop being afraid of me. I wish that you would look into my eyes, and see even the tiniest glimmer of what I see when I look into yours. That glimmer would be enough to erase your concerns.

I wish that you knew me, because if you knew me, then you would know what to do.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. But, there's no hurry. This offer is eternal.

Here, take my hand. I want to show you something.

This will be close, but it probably won't be exact. It's been a couple of weeks since this one dude told this to me. I'd say exactly who it was that told me about this, but his mother or grandmother might read this blog, and I don't want to get anyone into trouble. Even though he could say he was tricked into watching it.

Anyway, according to my friend, there was this video. On the Internet, I think. I hope. I'd hate to think that this was in someone's private stash.

At the start, there were two naked girls kissing each other.

I immediately thought to ask the obvious question - Were the girls hot? - but as my friend continued to tell me about the video, the issue of the girls hotness became irrelevant very quickly.

Apparently, these girls moved directly from kissing each other to shitting on each other. I know, not exactly a normal progression, right?

But that's not all.

Then, I guess, the girls began to eat each other's shit.

But that's not all.

Next, I heard, one of the girls proceeded to vomit shit onto the other girl's face.

But that's not all.

At that point, I gather, both girls then started licking the shit/vomit mixture off of each other's faces.

At that point, I asked what had become the new obvious question.

Was one of the girls Cartman's mom?

I know why my friend told me about this video. It wasn't because he thought I might get turned on. Nope, it was because his head was totally full of disgust, and so he hoped to give some of that disgust to me. But it was just disgust, not shit, so it was okay.

I can't help but wonder about the girls in the video. About (a) why they'd do such strange things, and (b) why they'd have it taped and put on the Internet.

I can think of two reasons.

First, maybe there really are people who are into this sort of disgusting stuff. Maybe these girls are two of those people. Maybe it was all done in the spirit of some bizarre kink.

Second, maybe they just did it for the notoriety and/or some monetary gain.

I really hope that it's the former, because the thought of people doing that to each other and not even getting to enjoy it - well that would just be sad.

And I don't like sad things.

Found out today that BikerGirl will not be leaving The Pub and, by extension, my life.

This is great news. Frankly, I was getting pretty sick of people leaving my life.

If I had to guess, I'd guess that it was about fifteen times. It's impossible to know for sure, because a while ago there was this disaster of sorts and a lot of comments and private messages were lost forever.

But fifteen is a good approximation. So I'll use that number. Fifteen times people went out of their way to tell me pretty much the same thing. To tell me what I pretty much already knew, or at least suspected.

I have this other blog, you see. And, in my other blog, I don't hold myself back nearly as much as I do here. I don't have to hold myself back, because it's anonymous. More or less. I've told a couple of people about it, where it is, but for the most part I've managed to keep my big fat mouth shut.

Anyway.

In that other blog, I've said pretty much everything that there is to say about a certain subject. And, if I do say so myself, I've done a pretty good job of writing those entries. It's actually readable, almost all of it, and that's a lot more than I can say about this blog you're looking at right now.

What people have told me, what people have told me about fifteen different times, is that my words would work. They'd stir certain emotions, and they'd cause certain reactions. Good reactions.

But, the thing is, that's not why I've written those words. I haven't written them as an explanation of my innermost thoughts. I never intended to use them in lieu of simply saying the words out loud, someday, maybe.

That other blog is more like a giant Post-It note to myself. So I don't forget what to say, if the time ever comes to say it. So I don't forget what I've felt, even if the passage of time is constantly threatening to strip me of those, my most precious memories. I never really meant for anyone to actually read the thing - it just happened. It's not even a real blog. It's a series of speeches that I hope to make someday. Before I die.

It would be so easy, right now, to let that cat out of the bag. I could just post a link to the thing. I could do it. But, I won't. I want to say those things out loud. I don't want to run and hide while they're read and absorbed and digested. I want to be there, and I want to see the reaction to my words as it happens. As reality sinks in. I want to watch as skepticism becomes clarity becomes understanding becomes, whatever.

Everyone already knows. That's the thing that gets me. Everyone already knows, but they turn away from the truth, because it's just too much. They throw words like exaggeration and dramatization in my direction, like those words could actually affect me. Affect this.

Lately, I've let my other blog slip. Not that it was ever updated with any regularity, but lately I've had things that I should have written there, and I haven't.

I've turned away from it.

I think that, sometimes, the truth is too much for me, too.

I'm feeling much better, thanks for wondering. It's always like this with me. I get all worked up over something and then, well I suppose I get it out of my system. Or maybe I just get used to it.

I guess I'll just go back to what I've always done. I'll wait. I'm good at waiting, and I'm pretty sure that my wait won't be in vain. Eventually, something good will happen.

---

A guy at work shot himself this morning. It's in the paper, so I guess I'm allowed to mention it here. I didn't know the guy. I just knew who he was. I imagine that a lot of people would say exactly the same thing. Maybe that was part of his problem.

I fully support a person's right to end their own life. To choose when their life will end. We get so few real choices as it is. But I don't support shooting yourself at work, where someone will have to find your body, and where someone will have to clean up the mess, and where someone will be traumatized. It would be much better, I think, to just disappear and never come back.

---

The other day I had this totally brilliant idea for an entry. For an article, actually. If I ever get around to writing the thing, and if I do as good of a job with it as I'd like, it may end up being my main contribution to mankind. That would be cool.

---

It's hard to stop counting days. I count the days until something good, or I count the days after something good. Because, right now, I have nothing specific to look forward to, I'm mostly counting the latter. Then, when that number gets high enough, I get to freak out a little. So maybe I do have something to look forward to.

---

Yesterday it took, I shit you not, an hour and a half for my pizza to arrive. And then, when I finally got it, it was ice cold. So much for enjoying Pizza Night.

So today I went back to Rich O's after work for another attempt. Rogue Chocolate Stout is back on tap finally, so I had one of those (2196). Right before I finished that glass, I got a little reckless.

Dave's Smoked Chocolate

(mixture) I mixed Rogue Chocolate Stout and NABC Cone Smoker in a 1:1 ratio. I'd been expecting these two very different flavors to elevate each other to new heights. But that's not what happened. They pretty much cancelled each other out. Good thing I didn't waste too much beer with this experiment.

Today's pizza arrived in about ten minutes, and it was yummy.

---

One of the things that keeps tempting me is the fact that, with about fifteen minutes, I could end all of this confusion. I could correct all of these misinterpretations. I could answer all questions. Now, knowing myself as I do, I realize that I'd try to stretch that fifteen minutes out to like a thousand years, but I think fifteen minutes is all I'd really need.

---

I just thought of something else, but it's worth an entry all on its own.