Not too long ago, it was suggested to me that the universe hated me, because I'm such a horrible excuse for a human being. I disagreed with that assessment then, and I continue to do so now.

Oh, sure, I have my little feuds with the universe, just like everyone. Sometimes it certainly seems like everything is stacked-up against me, but at other times just the opposite seems to be happening.

Like tonight, for example, when the universe actually seemed to be looking out for me.

Tonight, it was my full intention to say two words.

Not three. Certainly not four. But two simple words.

And, as it turned out, I never got that chance.

Maybe even those two simple words would have been too much. Too soon. Too real. Maybe I wouldn't have been able to stop after those two words. Maybe the reaction to those two words would have been too much. Too soon. Too real.

Whatever.

The point I was going to make here is that this was going to happen. Whatever it was, it was going to take place. Even though I knew, deep down, that it was a bad idea, I was still going to say the words.

Unless, somehow, the opportunity to say them never presented itself.

If I never said the words, then things would stay the same for a while longer. The status quo would be allowed to ferment for a while longer. This would probably be a good thing, I knew. But I didn't care anymore. I felt that I'd been silent for far too long already, and I was going to be silent no longer.

Maybe the universe took pity on me tonight. Maybe the universe intervened. Maybe the universe stopped me from saying the words, by denying me the opportunity which I'd craved for weeks.

Maybe.

But, if that was that case, then the universe fucked up. It forgot about my blog. So I'm putting the words here, as the title for this entry.

So there.

I have a goal for the next 24 hours. It is, in concept, a simple goal. In practice, it's not that simple. And it won't be that easy.

Because there's shit that I absolutely don't want to hear about any more. Crap that I don't want to think about any more. Stuff that I don't want to care about any more

In a perfect world, I'd go to the airport right now. I'd shut off my phone. I'd talk to nobody. I'd just wait for my flight to leave, maybe do some writing. But that's not an option. I've got places to go. Shit to do. Doors to watch.

I'm clinging to this tiny ledge, and I don't want to fall.

So, forgive me if I seem like a self-centered prick today. It's really not that I don't care at all. It's just that I don't want to care today. It's just that I'm a little busy. What with the clinging and all.

I got to Rich O's pretty early last night, at a little after 6:00. This was partly because my sister Dina had called earlier and said that she might stop by. Partly.

The place wasn't too crowded when I got there. I sat at the island and had a Schlenkerla Marzen (288) and some potato wedges with beer cheese. I basically just vegged out and emailed RockGirl and watched the door.

Then after a while PlantDude got sick of the weirdoes in the living room area so he came up and joined me. We talked about various crap, like Paris Hilton's breasts, for a while. I had another Marzen (305), and watched the door some more.

Then a bunch of weirdoes came and joined us at the island. I had another Marzen (322) and watched the door.

Then I got sick of the weirdoes at the island so I moved over to the sofa. I had a Diet Coke and paid my tab.

Just as I was getting ready to leave, WeatherGirl came in with some dude. I didn't really talk to her though, as they left for the SportsTime side of things right away. I had a brief moment of hope that perhaps LaptopGirl might be at SportsTime so I ran and/or skipped over there. I didn't see LaptopGirl, but I did see NeighborsDaughter, so I stopped and chatted with her for a minute or two.

Then I came home a little before 10:00.

And now today I have a gazillion little things to take care of to get ready for Las Vegas, and then tonight I'll go back to Rich O's and watch the door some more. It's nice to have a plan, I suppose.

I think I can still remember this well enough to write about it. This was Friday morning.

I was asleep in my bed, and for some reason I woke up and looked out my window. It was pretty dark outside, but I could still kinda see. I could kinda see a large shape running away. Like it had seen me at the window and been spooked. I'm pretty sure that it was a bear, from the size of it. I guess it could have been a deer, but it kind of lumbered, so I pegged it as a bear.

I continued to look out the window, in case the bear came back, I wanted to see it. A bear sighting would be pretty rare for me.

Well, the bear didn't come back, but another pair of animals did. It was, I thought at first, a wolf and a dog. They came to the ground below my window and laid down. I don't think they saw me. I spent some time looking down at them, trying to see if it was a real wolf or just a Husky or something like that. It wasn't really that big, so I figured that it was probably a Husky. Still dangerous-looking though. The other animal was a St. Bernard or a Malamute maybe, and I didn't pay much attention to it.

Then I had to pee, so I did that. Then I was thirsty, so I went out to the kitchen.

On the way, I noticed that my cats were all lined up at the door to the deck, their tails twitching like crazy. They were looking at a racoon that was out there eating something. So I went up to the door to look at it, because I like racoons. They're pretty cool. Much cooler than the opossums I usually get on my deck.

Once I got down on the floor with my cats I saw that it was actually just a racoon skeleton with its pelt draped over it. It was gross. All red and bloody. Every time the racoon would take a bite of what it was eating, the food would just fall through and hit the floor of my deck.

Then I figured out that the racoon was actually eating its own meat and guts, and I became a little scared of the racoon. My main fear was that whatever autocannibalistic zombie disease it had would spread to my three cats. So I turned on my outside lights and the raccoon scampered away.

So I guess it was a sex dream, in a weird way.

I like sex dreams.

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that StoreGirl and I had been photographed and interviewed by a dude from one of the local free newspapers. Well some of the fruits of that session made it into this week's issue.

Apparently, space was an issue, because none of the stuff about how awesome I am made into the final article. I guess they decided to cut out the obvious stuff first.

But still, pretty cool.

And I've thought about it, and I've decided that I will continue to associate with the little people in my life. I won't let this new fame go to my head.

I will, however, still accept groupies.

It's only a matter of time before all this eye-rolling in my head breaks through to the surface. It's really nothing personal though. It's just that my first instinct, more often than not lately, has been one of anger, or disappointment, or frustration.

I think that, at my most basic and primitive level, I'm a bit of an asshole. And an idiot, mustn't forget that.

I cannot intellectually justify the irritation that I've been feeling, because there is no intellectual justification for it. It's all bullshit, but it's bullshit that's hard-wired into me. I can't change my instincts any more than a VCR can make toast.

So I keep hearing about all this crap, and I keep being watched for a reaction. Eventually I'm going to roll my eyes and piss someone off or, even worse, hurt someone's feelings.

Lately, every instinct I've had has been completely incongruent with my own sense of who I am and of who I want to be. It's a pretty shitty way to live, being in constant disagreement with oneself. This has been going on for weeks.

Also, this has been a really annoying entry to write. This is like the sixth time I've tried. I know exactly what I want to say, but how to say it - that has been eluding me.

I need a vacation from myself.

Today I was presented with the possibility of something which just might be the most terrible, mind-wrenching thing that could ever possibly happen. I described the horrific scenario in an email to RockGirl.

Now, you have to realize, RockGirl knows me and my frailties better than just about anyone on Earth. There was no doubt in my mind that she would instantly realize the implications and understand the true horrors of this scenario.

So what was her response?

"I think that would be awesome."

Clearly, RockGirl has been abducted by aliens and replaced by some kind of pod-person. I will be writing her local congressman and urging him to start an immediate investigation. Hopefully the real RockGirl's whereabouts can be determined before it's too late.

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I'm not really sure why, but today I had HairCutLady use clippers on me instead of just scissors like she normally does. My hair hasn't been this short since I got out of the Air Force in 1992. Plus, now I look like I'm about twelve years old.

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NotHideousGirl wore a skirt today. Of course I checked out her legs. But because I'm a gentleman I told her, before she even stood up, that I'd be checking out her legs. I didn't even try to be sneaky about it. They're nice, by the way.

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MisunderstoodGirl is writing a screenplay as a Summer project. People she knows are being asked to contribute character ideas to represent themselves. I can't think of a good character for myself. I thought "freelance gynecologist" was a pretty good one, but FutureDude already got dibs on that character. I'm thinking that "professional beer snob" might be the best I can come up with.

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NotHideousGirl is also considering a screenplay, but all of her characters are girls.

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Five days from right now I'll be in Las Vegas! Woooohoooo!

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I have less than five days to either find my testicles, or grow a new pair.

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I saw a pretty fucking impressive wall cloud today after work. I got really excited about the potential severe weather, but all it did was rain for a while. At least at my house that's all it did. I haven't watched any TV tonight, so maybe there's been death and destruction all around me. That would be just my luck.

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There was a chick at work today who looked very familiar to me. I think she might have been a girl I had a crush on back in junior high. If I see her again I'll have to ask her.

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Schlenkerla Marzen (219) is yummy.

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I kinda think I want to move back to Alaska. Not forever, but for a year or so. I would live in a secluded cabin and be a recluse. It would be cool.

I suppose, if I had to write an entry now, I'd write about how I don't really like the tone that things seem to be taking in my head. And I don't like the turn that things seem to be taking in my life.

And I'd write about how there are no real choices, just varying degrees of inevitable stupidity.

Luckily I don't have to write anything at all, so I won't.