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Left Hand Smoke Jumper (25)

(bottle) Almost completely black. Huge heaping head. Heavenly smoked malt aroma. From under the massive layer of foam, some chocolate notes rose and made themselves known. The mouthfeel is a lot thinner than I was expecting. Flavor is intensely sweet. Some smoke in the finish. After the first few sips, I became numb to the sweetness, and the nice overall balance of the beer became evident. Quite yummy.

So, I've been toying with this idea all day. This idea of writing something completely honest and straightforward.

Just as sort of a test. To see what might happen if I took someone's words and interpreted them as truth. Words saying that honesty and openness are paramount to her.

I don't think the truth would be appreciated. I think that it would be seen as a series of dismissals and denials. Or even worse, as a mere subset of the real truth.

Why even bother?

Because I could be wrong, that's why.

So, here goes.

Two or three or four times a week, I sit at The Pub during lunch, and I listen to my friend bad-mouth men. I listen to her tell me that all men are assholes, that men only want sex from women, that men are lying backstabbing bastards. That there are no good men in the world, that they're a bunch of apes who are nothing more than a life-support system for a penis.

I sit, and I listen to this. I even nod at the appropriate times. At least a part of me does. The friend part. That's the part of me that climbs out of bed late at night to go where I'm needed, just because I'm needed. That's also the part of me that exits unannounced, lest some word or action or facial expression betray some unauthorized thoughts or feelings.

That guy, that Dave-as-a-friend guy, he's a pretty decent fellow. I think everyone should have a friend like him. I know that I wish I did. Even if he is kind of a pussy.

But there's another part of me, sitting in that bar two or three or four times a week. The part that's not a friend. The part that's a man. The part that wants to jump up onto the bar and scream in frustration when he hears those hateful and hurtful words. And defend himself as the man that he is. A good man. A decent man. Not a lying backstabbing bastard who only wants sex. More than a penis life-support system. Much fucking more.

But, problem is, she doesn't think of me as a man at all. If she did, she wouldn't be talking to me the way she does. She probably wouldn't be talking to me at all.

My hair is, after all, the wrong color.

That's fair, I suppose. She has the same name as a whore I used to be married to. So that makes it even, right?

Look, this frustration of mine isn't even about my friend. She and I, as woman and man, would have many more forbidding obstacles than my hair and her name. This thing with her and me - it's just the most fitting and most current example of what frustrates me.

Why can't I be both? Why can't I be a friend and a man? Why must I fucking choose and, if I refuse to choose, why then is that choice made for me?

I sit at the bar several times a week, listening to my friend bad-mouth men. And I empathize and I nod at the right times. I do these things because I'm her friend. But I also think about what it might be like to kiss her lips, or hold a hug for a few seconds or minutes longer than necessary. I do these things because I'm a man.

Why, I wonder, why can I have a friend who's also a woman, but I myself can only be seen as friend or as a man. Not as both. Never as both.

It frustrates the hell out of me, and that's the truth.

Now, let's see how that truth gets misinterpreted.

And so another long Saturday leads to another long Saturday Beer Report. One in which I'm certain to leave out several interesting tidbits as I strive to keep from rambling on and on and on and on. And on.

My day started when I went to see WeirdGirl for a bit. She's starting a new job and wanted me to check the place out. It's not my kind of place. There's no good beer there, and the stage was an ominous presence. Loud music and crappy beer make Dave something something.

So then I went over to Borders and bought a book and a notebook and a pen. Then I went to The Pub and had a couple pints of Newcastle (4352) with my fish and chips. It was kinda boring there, plus this one bartender wouldn't leave me alone, so I went over to Hard Rock to see if CoolHairGirl was working.

She was, so I stayed.

I had a couple glasses of BBC Alt (330) and talked to CoolHairGirl whenever she'd get a little break. One cool thing was that we were talking about gluten intolerance for some reason, and she mentioned that she'd met a girl at this Third Street Dive place who suffered from it. From the description I was pretty sure that she was talking about NotHideousGirl. So I whipped out my blackberry and pulled up a picture of NotHideousGirl.

It was her! Small world, as they say.

At about 5:30 or so, I got bored so I left Hard Rock. I'd thought that maybe I'd just go straight to Rich O's, but (a) HatGirl was sick, and (b) I wasn't really in the mood for another sausage-fest. So I did something different.

I went down to our local Caesar's casino.

That place was really packed, as I'd been expecting. I'd wanted to play some blackjack, but there wasn't a single blackjack seat open anywhere. So instead I spent about three hours playing pai gow poker and losing about $22.

Then I left the boat and went to this Legends bar there in the Caesar's complex. They always have decent beer there. I sat at the bar and ordered a BBC Jefferson's Reserve Bourbon Barrel Stout (432).

I'd only been sitting for about ten seconds when my phone started vibrating. It was, of course, HatGirl. No longer sick, and sitting at Rich O's wondering where I was. I somehow fought the urge to skip and turn cartwheels all the way to Rich O's. Instead, I texted back that I was down at the boat.

So then HatGirl texted for me to stay where I was, and that she and LuckyFucker would come down there.

Never has an hour passed so slowly.

I spent most of that hour talking to this hooker who was sitting next to me. She and her girlfriend were having a two-for-one special going on, and there weren't any takers. At least up until that point. I reminded her that the night was still young. I also ordered some nuclear hot potato skins and managed to get one of them down without melting holes in my cheeks.

HatGirl texted me again when they left Rich O's, and I started to get even more excited. It was really going to happen. I was going to get to see HatGirl. My heart threatened to leap from my chest.

I nearly gave myself whiplash for the next several minutes, jerking my head to the left every two seconds to see if they'd arrived.

And then, they did!

HatGirl!

Yay!

So HatGirl and LuckyFucker and I spent a couple of hours talking and drinking beer. I had a couple glasses of Newcastle (4364). HatGirl had her usual Guinness. LuckyFucker had the BBC bourbon barrel stout I'd been drinking earlier. A good time was had by all. Especially me. Because, HatGirl! Yay!

Once the happy couple left I moved back to the bar. The hooker was gone, so maybe she found a customer after all. I had a couple Diet Cokes while I unwound, then I came home.

Sometimes, when I let my mind run wild, I think of her body as being like a moibus strip.

I use my tongue to trace a path that never ends.

Yummy.

2:47
I suppose I should write something now. I mean, a little while ago I had such a sudden urge to write that I detoured into Borders to buy a new notebook and pen.

Problem is, I don't really have a topic in mind. Except this one particular topic that nobody cares about except me. One which is definitely XXX rated.

The other problem is, I don't think I like this new notebook very much. It's too small, and the pages have vertical lines as well as horizontal ones.

I'm having flashbacks of the graphing exercises that I had to do in junior high.

Anyway, I'm definitely feeling a strong sense of desperation lately. And I'm pretty sure that I don't like it. Mainly because it's not what I'd expect from myself. It's kinda weird. I'm not desperate for anything in particular. Nope, I'm desperate for something else. Anything else.

Something, anything, other than that which occupies my thoughts about every three minutes.

Yes, I timed the fucker. I was curious.

Because without this elusive something else, I fear that some bad shit is about to happen.

See, I know myself well enough to be able to tell when I'm about to do something stupid, but I don't know myself well enough to have any idea how to prevent it.

I'll use fishing metaphors to describe how my desperation is manifesting itself. Partly because it's fitting, but mostly because I can't think of anything else right now.

For the longest time, I was a spear-fisherman. It was a satisfying life. I didn't get a lot of fish, but the ones I did get were all good. All ones I'd wanted, aimed at.

But sometimes I'd miss. Sometimes it seemed that I'd miss fucking everything. For days or weeks or months or years at a time.

So I always kept a baited hook dangling in the water. My backup plan. Just in case I might get a bite.

Seriously, this fishing crap sounded a lot better in my head.

Oh well, I might as well finish it.

Lately, like for the last couple of weeks, spear-fishing and bait-fishing haven't been working for me. There have been no fish which seemed worthy of a throw and, I've come to realize, the fish who do take my bait are never worth keeping.

So, now, I'll finally get to the fucking point.

For the last couple of weeks, I've found myself doing something different. Something lazy.

Cheating almost.

I've been casting a net.

And I've been catching a lot of fish, but still I'm finding no keepers.

I toss them all back into the water, and I cast my net again.

It's frustrating. I'm starving to death here, but none of the fish I catch are worth keeping.

Maybe next I'll try fishing with dynamite.

Man, I slept half the day away. That's what my dad used to say, when I was a kid, if I slept beyond like 9:00. Well this morning I slept until 11:00. It's so gloomy outside that I guess my body got fooled into thinking it was still just after sunrise.

Anyway.

Like I already said, it was very crowded last night. Standing-room only.

Actually this brings up a question I've had nagging at me.

Is it standing-room only, or standing room only, or standing-room-only? I can never figure out the rules for whether there should be hyphens or not.

So I stood at the end of the bar and MusicalYuppieDude and I complained about the crowd together for a while. There was nothing on the draft board that really looked appealing to me, so I went back to one of my old standbys (or is it stand-bys?), a Smithwicks (1514) that went down very well.

A few minutes later I smelled something good to my left. I turned, and it was ThatOneHotGirl who I'd noticed when I'd fought through the crowd on the way in. We talked briefly for a few minutes. It was nice. I like girls.

Then this one dude left the end of the bar so I went and sat there. OracleDude was sitting at the kiddie table and I talked to him except for those times when ThatOneHotGirl would come over and sit next to me. We talked about beer and the food there and being drunk kids in our early twenties. It was her first time ever at Rich O's. She didn't know what she was drinking, "Some pale ale" is all she knew. I promised her that I'd try to find out for her.

Then a bunch of weirdoes left the island so ThatOneHotGirl went and joined her friends there. I went back to talking with OracleDude, and I ordered a bottle of Koningshoeven Quad (420). I left a couple of ounces in the bottle.

Oh yeah, one of the bartenders was in a really terrible mood. I was actually a little concerned that he was going to go postal on everyone. I was certainly too frightened to ask him for an empty sample glass. I'm pretty sure that he'd have thrown it at me. So, once FutureDude slowed down enough, I asked him for one instead.

Then I poured the rest of my Koningshoeven into the sample glass and took it over to ThatOneHotGirl.

Yes, I was that smitten already. I wouldn't give up that beer to just any girl. But it gave me a chance to talk to her for a few more precious seconds. And to meet her boyfriend. I know, oh well.

After a while, TallLady left the throne and I moved there.

Spent the next couple of hours talking with various semi-regulars and waving at ThatOneHotGirl when she'd turn around and see me. I was in a very strange mood, and to prove that point, my next two beers were Upland Wheats (43). I don't even like that beer very much.

After a while, I had an urge to throw a wadded-up (should that be hyphenated?) napkin at ThatOneHotGirl. Just to get her attention so I could wave at her again. Because it had been a while. I asked MusicalYuppieDude and OracleDude if they thought beaning her with a napkin would be appropriate behavior, and OracleDude said he'd pay me five bucks if I did it. Well, I was going to do it anyway, so I took careful aim at the back of her head, and I let fly.

My aim was a little off - I hit her in the side. But this was partly because she and her entire group had chosen that moment to stand up and get ready to leave. ThatOneHotGirl felt the paper hit her, and she glared at this one girl who was sitting on the loveseat.

Well I couldn't have her being blamed for my misdeed, so I followed ThatOneHotGirl out front and confessed to her that it had been me. That I'd just wanted to talk to her again before she left. So she punched me (hard!) in the arm several times and laughed. I like her. She would be fun to make out (make-out?) with. But then her boyfriend came out from the bathroom and ruined everything. ThatOneHotGirl went off into the night, and I went back to the throne.

At least OracleDude owes me five bucks.

And this is about the point where my last entry picked up.

Or it is picked-up?

Those damn hyphens. They confuse me.

I should have asked her what her name was.

Tonight is was totally crowded as fuck. There was no good beer on tap. So I stuck to girlie beers.

The highlight of the night, by far, was ThatOneHotGirl.

I wish I'd learned her name. So I'd know what to scream later as I totally ravished her in my dreams.

After ThatOneHotGirl left, Rich O's went back to its regular sausage-fest mode. I became bored very quickly.

I texted HatGirl, but she's sick. I texted NotHideousGirl, but she's totally too smart to get trapped in my web. I emailed RockGirl, but she's 712 miles away.

So I just came home.

It was either that, or do something totally stupid involving someone who's totally better off without me.

Luckily the girlie beers I drank tonight prevented total stupidity.

I'm sitting here working, at 11:54. I only point this out so people will feel sorry for me. Because nobody ever had to work this late before.

I'm installing Solaris on a new server, and doing other crap to get it ready for the Oracle people. Like right now I'm putting on the latest recommended patch cluster. Type and wait, type and wait. It's not like I've been working nonstop since this morning, but it feels that way sometimes.

And I find myself, once again, several days late on journal entries. Oh well.

On Saturday during lunch, BikerGirl told me that something was wrong with the Newcastle. She was right. It just tasted a little strange. Not really bad, but not like the Newcastle I've become used to in The Pub.

Then, on Monday, the Newcastle was still a little off. I didn't really care for it that much. I figured that it might be a bad keg, and I vowed that I'd switch to Young's Double Chocolate Stout until it was changed.

Well, they changed it. Not only did they change it from an old, empty keg to a new, full keg - they also changed it from some other beer back to Newcastle. I'm not really sure what I'd been drinking. I thought maybe Tetley's, BikerGirl thought maybe Fuller's ESB. Whatever. The Newcastle is back now. So, yay!

Now I'm installing all of the companion software. This step sucks, because at the end there's a bunch of network traffic, and my wireless router always dies and has to be rebooted.

Let's see, today NotHideousGirl was a no-show at lunch. That's okay though. I talked to BikerGirl, and I emailed RockGirl, and I texted HatGirl. Tomorrow I'll be a no-show myself, as I've got a dental appointment in the afternoon so I'll be taking the last half of the day off.

Speaking of HatGirl, if I don't see her this weekend, that will make it at least eleven billion years since I've enjoyed that privilege. This is about the point where I start to freak out. So the text messages today helped my mood immensely. The time limit before I'd freak out from lack of HatGirl used to be about thirty seconds, so I have been getting better.

Or caring less, I'm not sure. I can feel myself wanting to pull away before she moves away. I don't like this childish desire, but I like the cause even less. Consciously I'm still in denial over the whole thing, but I guess that my subconscious is starting to get a clue. It's going to happen.

Great, now I'm sad.

Anyway, the other day I was talking to a PBD at Rich O's who's just as disgusted with the current state of affairs as I am. So it's good to know that I'm not the only one. I've actually caught myself wondering if the brewer there even likes beer.

And, now the companion software is done installing, so I'll hit the "Exit" button on the little installer GUI, and my network will die...

...and it's back. I had to power-cycle my router.

So now it's back to work.

(Copied from NotHideousGirl. The questions. Not the answers.)

1. Would you get back with your last ex if you could?
Yes.

2. What color shirt are you wearing?
Reddish.

3. Would you kiss anyone on your friends list?
Sure.

4. Do you have a 'thing' for someone on your friends list?
Again with the friends list crap. I only have four. Kinda hard to be secretive with only four.

5. How many people on your top friends list do you know in real life?
Three out of four.

6. How many kids do you want to have?
Ewwww, that's gross, you pervert. Oh, wait, maybe you mean "have" as in "be the parent of." I dunno.

7. Do you have a good relationship with your parents?
Yes. Maybe a little distant, but not strained at all.

8. What name would you want besides the one you have?
Majesty.

9. Would you ever make out with someone of the same sex?
I can't see that ever happening.

10. What did you do for your last birthday?
Took the day off work. Got a new driver's license. Bought a new sink. Just dicked around mostly.

11. What's your main ringtone on your phone?
It sounds like the cellphones from the show 24.

12. What time did you wake up today?
6:55

13. What were you doing two nights ago?
Playing Far Cry for the gazillionth time.

14. Do you like having your hair pulled?
I'd have to say no.

15. Name something you can't wait to do?
Finish this survey.

16. Last time you saw your mom?
In the casket, almost 20 years ago. Thanks for asking.

17. What is one thing you wish you could change about yourself?
Nothing. I'm totally perfect just as I am.

18. If you had $250,000, what would you do with it?
Two chicks at the same time!

19. how long have you worked at your current job?
About five and a half years.

20. Have you ever talked to Tom?
That one dude who used to work at the liquor store? I saw him at Rich O's over the weekend. What an odd question.

22. Last thing you ate?
Some chocolate egg thingies that some asshole left laying around.

23. What's your favorite month?
June I guess.

24. Your least favorite month?
January.

25. What's the last piece of clothing someone borrowed from you?
MixedSignalGirl still has my blue jacket. So I'm not sure that counts as a loan anymore.

26. Who is getting on your nerves right now?
The fucker that left the chocolate eggs here to taunt me.

27. Most visited webpage?
Fark.

28. Last person you text messaged?
NotHideousGirl.

29. Last person to make you sad?
Thinking about HatGirl moving away. I'm not sure if that counts, though, because she didn't make me sad, I did it myself.

30. Would you take a bullet for your best friend?
If I ever get one of those "best friend" things, I'll be able to answer for sure. Probably yes though.

31. Favorite kind of drink?
Smoked beer.

32. Favorite food?
Recently it's been tacos.

33. Favorite dessert?
I dunno. A cigarette?

34. Have you been to Europe?
Briefly, but I didn't even get to leave the plane.

35. If someone you hated died, what would you do?
I guess smile or something.

If you answered all of these honestly, re-post this as 'Don't Lie Survey'