I guess some guys must fall for this shit. I'm glad I'm not one of them.

Hi,

How was your weekend? Mine sucked! My boyfriend dumped me last week and I need to get out there and meet someone. I saw your profile and see that you looked pretty cool. I like older guys too. I need someone more mature. Anyways I just signed up for this dating site if you want to look me up my profile name is "summerfun2"

See more picture of me! its free to sign up! I need a date!

I also have more pictures on there too (including my trip with my girlfriends to the Bahamas last month :)

One of the things I scribbled into my notebook yesterday, I mean besides all the crap about being out of style, was that I've been finding myself very irritated with some people lately. This might not seem to be anything new for me. I am, after all, a bit of a grouch. But this recent irritation has been new.

I'm finding myself irritated with a lot of those people who are, on paper at least, closest to me. They keep telling me stuff that (a) is none of my business, and (b) I'm not sure how to respond to, and (c) they think will provoke a specific reaction.

I think that it's that last thing that's been bothering me the most. That there's always an unspoken expectation that I'm going to react to whatever I've just been told. And, beyond that, there's hope that I'm going to react in a certain way. There's always that little pause after they tell me things. They pause, and they look at me, and they wait to see how I react. To see if I react the way they want me to react.

Here's an example, which may or may not be from real life.

A friend of mine tells me that she's going to go flirt with some guy. Then she pauses. She looks at me. To see how I react to that statement. What am I, a fucking mind-reader? Am I supposed to be an encouraging friend? Am I supposed to be a little jealous? Fuck if I know. Stop looking at me like that.

It's the damn pause and the damn look that irritates me. It makes me feel like I'm back in school and the teacher has just called on me for an answer that I don't know.

I don't like this entry. I should have written it after a couple of beers. Oh, well. Too late now.

Yesterday I managed to put myself into a bit of a funk. Understandable, I suppose. Being in a good mood is kind of like wearing clothes that are completely wrong for me. I might be comfortable, and I might even look good at first glance, but once I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I realize just how ridiculous I really look.

Some people might be able to get away with leather pants and flashy jewelry, but not me. Some people might be able to get away with smiling and laughing all the time, but not me.

So yesterday I got a glimpse of myself, and I was a little embarrassed, and even a little revolted, by what I saw.

And the other reason that I found myself in a bad mood yesterday was because, once again, my inertia had run out. And I found myself hoping for another push. And, if you've been reading me for any length of time, you know that hope is a terrible thing for me to have. I wrote once that hope is a strange thing. It exists only to disappoint, for if it's fulfilled, it vanishes.

Yesterday, despite knowing better, I found myself hoping for another push; a couple of specific pushes actually. And then my stupid brain had to butt in and remind me that the odds were very much against either of those things happening, so I went into a preemptive funk.

It would be nice if happiness could have the same inertia as sadness. Maybe it can, eventually. I hope so. That would be cool.

Anyway.

For a late lunch yesterday, I took what has become my customary trip to the Buffalo Wild Wings in Louisville. I had my customary yummy Newcastle (5505) and my customary yummy naked tenders with spicy garlic sauce. I talked with the bartender, and I wrote in my notebook, and I watched nubile young girls play softball on TV. It was nice, I suppose.

Later, on the drive to downtown Louisville, there was a fuck of a storm. I was sitting at a red light and a damn newspaper box went tumbling down the road in front of me. Surreal. My truck shook violently, and I would not have even batted an eye if I'd have flipped over. Turning onto Fifth Street, I saw that it was littered with newspaper boxes and construction signs. The whole scene looked like hurricane footage from The Weather Channel.

So I stopped at Hard Rock and talked to CoolHairGirl for a couple of minutes, then I went to The Pub. I had a Newcastle (5525) and talked with BikerGirl. I also had a new beer:

Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale (10)

(draft) Clear amber in color. No head to speak of. Very strong aroma of coconuts, of all things. Mouthfeel was fairly thin. Coconut predominates the flavor, just like it does the aroma. Smells like suntan lotion, and tastes like what I imagine suntan lotion tastes like. After an inch or so was gone, this started to taste a little better. What was strange was that I got absolutely zero indication of this beer's alleged bourbon influence.

My intention, once I got back home, was to take a nap for an hour, then go to Rich O's. Well my nap ended up being two and a half hours long, so that sucked, and I didn't get to Rich O's until after 9:00.

The place was pretty dead, but I didn't care, because LaptopGirl was there on the sofa.

Push number one!

Yay!

I sat in the throne and had a Diet Coke. My stomach was a little upset, I think because of the coconut beer. I didn't get to talk to LaptopGirl because (a) these people on the loveseat kept talking to me, and (b) LaptopGirl was talking to BigWheelGirl the whole time anyway. Still, it was of course nice to see her. And I'm probably not supposed to say this, but she looked very pretty in her pretty dress and pretty shoes.

About ten minutes after LaptopGirl and BigWheelGirl left, HatGirl came in.

Push number two!

Yay!

Take that, universe! I got both pushes, you asshole!

Feeling much better, I had myself a Delirium Tremens (1008) and a Koningshoeven Quad (508) while I talked with HatGirl and LuckyFucker for an hour or so. HatGirl was wearing these transparent sandal things, and I had to fight the urge to play "this little piggy" with her toes. It was a tough fight, but I did manage to win.

Once HatGirl and LuckyFucker left, I had another Diet Coke and talked with WomanRepellant and MusicalYuppieDude for a while, then I went back to Louisville to hang out with WeirdGirl some more.

Oh, yeah, I have LuckyFucker's phone. It had fallen behind the sofa cushion. So maybe I'll get to see HatGirl again when I take his phone back to him. Two days in a row would be very cool.

Okay, first I need to get this out of the way. It's a beer I tried for the first time on Thursday.

Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier Marzen

(draft) I was not expecting to like this. I don't know why. A nice clear dark amber color. The aroma of a smoky campfire. The smoke flavor is fairly apparent, and it's just smoke - no bacon or grapes or anything else to taint the flavor. I liked this a lot.

Anyway, on to Friday night.

Rich O's was moderately crowded when I arrived. Mostly with strangers. And there was a buttload of SteveFest celebrators out in the special people section. I sat at the bar and had a Koningshoeven Quad (498), then one of the aforementioned Marzens (55).

NotHideousGirl called at one point from Louisville, and I went outside so I could talk with her for a bit. She invited me to join her at the pub but I needed to stick around Rich O's for a while longer just in case anything cool happened. When I went back in to Rich O's, I had Roger introduce me to SteveFest Steve. As I'd been expecting, I never saw him before in my life.

I was thinking that maybe there could have been some official ceremony to mark the passage from the year of DaveFest to the year of SteveFest, but there was none. One dude took pictures though, so they might show up somewhere.

After a while the strangers left the island, so I moved there. I had another Marzen (75) and talked with various people for a while. This one chick said that a ceremonial beer stein might me a good thing to incorporate into future ceremonies.

Right after I ordered my third Marzen, some secret admirer arranged for a new beer to be delivered to me.

Monk's Cafe Flemish Sour Red (10)

(draft) Clear ruby-brown in color. A nice fluffy head. Sour cherries and apples in both the aroma and the flavor. Very comparable to Metreechs. Quite good.

I ended up only drinking the last half of the Marzen (85). I went over to Louisville to see this fashion show they were having for breast cancer awareness. By the time I got there, NotHideousGirl had already left. WeirdGirl wasn't working. So I hung out at Hard Rock and talked to CoolHairGirl and had several Diet Cokes.

Once the models started stomping along the runway (why do they have to stomp around like that?) I went out and watched them for a while. I tried to take pictures but none of the turned out worth shit. All of the models were, of course, quite hot. But I found myself thinking that maybe they should divert some of the proceeds from the event to buy the poor girls something to eat. It was cool though. First time I've gone to a fashion show, mostly because I'm straight.

Oh yeah, I texted HatGirl to let her know that Dragon's Milk is on at Rich O's. She replied that they might come in Saturday night. If so, yay!

I think that's about it.

Eight or nine months ago, I attempted to predict the future.

I was waaaaaaaaay off, or so it would seem at first.

But, aside from some timing discrepancies, lately I've been thinking that maybe I just got some roles switched around, and that maybe I'll end up not being the injured party.

That would be weird, I think. And not in a good way.

---

It's almost 4:00 AM here, and I still cannot sleep. But this is the fun kind of insomnia. The hopeful kind.

---

Today I sent my weekly text message to HatGirl. This time I said, "Guess what... Hi HatGirl!"

She responded with a, "Hiya." And so now my life is complete for another week or so. Like I keep saying, it really doesn't take much.

---

WeirdGirl is mad at me. I think we've broken up again. Not that there was officially anything to break.

---

Today I had to write a bunch of crap for my annual performance review at work. NotHideousGirl offered to dress it up with legalese, but the truth is that it doesn't really matter what I write.

---

I have several irrelevant topics that I kinda want to write about, but I can't seem to be able to get into the writing mood.

---

I had this crazy stupid idea of not going to Rich O's this weekend. I kill me sometimes. Of course I'm going.

---

I guess that's it. Pretty exciting stuff, I know.

I actually feel a little bit guilty, like I've stolen this mood. Plundered some dusty tomb, to get at the treasures hidden inside my own memories. Alternatively, sometimes it feels like I've imagined the whole thing; like I'm lying to myself and to everyone around me.

But, truth be told, this is not a nostalgic mood, clinging to me from the past. And this is not a hopeful mood, beckoning from the future. This is a happy mood, and it's happening right now. The present that has been so bleak for so long has suddenly grown lush and colorful.

It's very hard to convince myself that this is real. That this is my mood, to do with what I wish. That this is my smile, and my laugh. It just doesn't seem right, that I could be happy. It doesn't quite fit.

There are those who would say that I don't deserve to be happy. Maybe they're right. Maybe that's why I feel guilty.

This distance between nothing and something is unimaginably vast, yet you crossed it with a single step. Alone and unarmed, you braved that journey which I'd judged impossible for so long. Do not be afraid. Here, take my hand. I want to show you something. It's wonderful here.

Had a pretty boring day, which was fine. Watched some movies, shot some pool, played with my cats.

Tonight I got a call from SassyGirl, so that was very cool. I've made plans to go see her in early July. I really hope things work out so that I can make it. I didn't like the way she disappeared a few weeks ago, and I liked even less how I just let it happen without protest.

Tomorrow it's back to work for me. I'm not looking forward to it at all, but maybe I'll have lunch with NotHideousGirl and I'll get to find out why she blew me off Sunday night.

I also want to talk to MixedSignalGirl about something. I'd just call her, but I kinda promised that I wouldn't. So I'm hoping that she'll read this and call me. Hint hint.

I have this little scene that runs through my head quite often. In this scene, I'm sitting in some dark and smoke-filled bar, oblivious to everyone and everything around me, and I'm writing. It's a nice little scene, I think. I'm like some modern-day Hemingway or something.

This little scene hardly ever plays out in real life. For one thing, I'm certainly no Hemingway. I mean, he was a crazy old drunk fucker, right?

Oh. Never mind.

But the real reason this scene hardly ever plays out is that the part about me being oblivious hardly ever plays out. I like pretty girls too much for that. I like to watch stupid people too much. I have to be in a very rare mood to just ignore my surroundings and bury myself in my notebook.

And, speaking of pretty girls, there's one over there now. So I'm going to stop writing and look at her for a while. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk to her. That would be nice, I think.