That's right, a rare Wednesday Beer Report. Mainly because I had a couple of new beers and I've been slacking off on describing new beers lately.

Anyway.

For lunch, I had a yummy Newcastle (2180) at The Pub. NotHideousGirl was a no-show today, but that was okay. I talked to this BikerGirl bartender. She's nice. And smoldering hot. And about twenty years too young for me. I found out what the Japanese characters on her tattoo mean. I'd been hoping for, I secretly lust after Dave, but alas, they mean something totally different.

At least, she says they mean something totally different.

After work I went to Rich O's to see what new beers Gravity Head had in store for me. I saw a couple of beers that looked interesting, and chose my first one via a mental coin flip.

Clipper City Heavy Seas Holy Sheet (10)

(draft) Dark clear copper. Good head. Smelled like a barleywine, and pretty much tasted like one too. That weird flavor of beets or prunes or whatever it is - I don't like it. This beer did grow on me a little as the glass got more empty, but I still can't really say that I liked it.

When I was about halfway finished with that beer, BadPickleGirl's hot cousin came in. So that was cool. She was dressed all sparkly, especially this one scarf thingy that I'm sure my cats would love to get their paws on.

HotGirlsHotCousin casually mentioned that her cousin was coming in. So I had a little anxiety attack which wasn't allowed to develop into a full-fledged panic attack because, when her "cousin" came in, it wasn't BadPickleGirl at all. Nope, it was some other cousin who I remember meeting briefly a couple of months ago.

My next, and last beer, was another new one for me.

Aecht Schlenkerla Fastenbier (20)

(draft) Cloudy dark brown. Medium head. Delicious smoke aroma. Flavor was pretty good. Much more subdued than other Schlenkerla offerings. Maybe a little bacony, but this was surprisingly good.

By the time I'd finished this beer, I found that I was starting to ramble a little. So, instead of rambling out loud to the people at Rich O's, I came home and sent off a rambling email to BadPickleGirl.

So I've been having lunch with NotHideousGirl a lot lately. Three or four times a week, I'll go to The Pub and she'll come and join me. It's almost never planned more than 10 minutes ahead of time. It's always perfectly innocent and platonic.

But people wonder, and then people assume.

WeirdGirl, for example, became convinced that I'd ended things with her because I was seeing NotHideousGirl. I'm pretty sure that I've managed to convince her of the truth.

One bartender, a couple of weeks ago, said to me in an awed whisper, "Dude, you're girlfriend is smoking hot!"

The correct response, of course, would have been, "She's not my girlfriend," or something like that. But that's not what I said. What I said was, "Yes, she certainly is."

See, I like the idea of random strangers thinking that I have a smoking hot girlfriend. That I'm capable of having any girlfriend at all. It's social validation of a sort. Deceptive, certainly, but there have been far worse deceptions over the years.

This deception was harmless. And kinda fun.

But it ran its course fairly quickly. The simple fact that NotHideousGirl and I don't act like girlfriend and boyfriend - there's been very little public slaking between us - that simple fact stopped a lot of the assumptions. Okay, fine, there's been no slaking. Add to that the fact that most people are not blind, and that NotHideousGirl especially is clearly not blind, even more doubters are born.

So most people, by now, are no longer wondering about the two of us. Most people now know the truth. That we are just friends.

Most people, but not all. There are still some people who think we're together together.

So NotHideousGirl and I have briefly discussed ways to convince these stragglers that we're not a couple. Convincing them that we were never a couple, that's probably too much to ask for when it comes to these stubborn people.

But a break-up, a break-up we could do.

And it could be awesome.

So we talked about staging a big break-up fight. Right there at The Pub in the middle of lunch hour, where everybody could see. And everybody could make judgments, and place bets, and gossip among themselves.

"I knew they wouldn't last. She's way out of his league."

"Look at him! He's old enough to be her father!"

"It's about time. I mean, he says he likes nerdy girls, but that's just ridiculous."

But this couldn't be just any old fight. Nope, it had to be one where we each maintained some dignity, and ideally, where we each garnered some favorable attention. And maybe even some pity sex. And, and this is the most important thing - it would have to be the kind of fight which would allow us to remain friends even after the "relationship" was over.

I've been thinking about this proposed break-up fight tonight. Trying to come up with the best scenario. Here are some of my ideas.

I'm an asshole and/or she's a bitch
Way too obvious, and way too predictable. All break-up fights eventually come down to one or both of these accusations. We'd need something more memorable than this, plus it could end up being self-fulfilling if either of us plays our roles too expertly.

She won't let me buy her extravagant gifts
I like this one. It's nice and subtle. It says that I have money, which is always a good thing. And it also says that NotHideousGirl isn't the type of girl who'd be expecting gifts all the time. It shows my generosity. And it also shows that NotHideousGirl cares about more than material things.

I'm too much man for her, if you know what I mean
This, on paper anyway, should be my favorite. The problem, however, with this argument, is that it's a lie just waiting to be revealed. And, if it were to be revealed, it would happen at the worst possible time.

She's insatiable, but there should be more than just raw animal sex between us
I like this one too. I mean, every guy dreams of dating a nympho, right? So that would get NotHideousGirl lots of points. And this argument would also show that I am not a typical man. That I am concerned with more than just sex. That I'm all sensitive and shit.

I don't know if we're ever going to do this, this break-up fight. I think it could be fun, but I also doubt that I could keep a straight face.

So I imagine that we'll just have to keep whittling away at those doubting romanticists. Keep telling them the boring truth, and hope that it eventually sinks in.

You know how some blogs have those My Mood thingies at the top of every entry? Right below the Currently Listening To thingy?

I've never had either one of those in my blog. The former because it's stupid and usually redundant, and the latter because I don't listen to music often enough to want it to define me.

Anyway, I was thinking about my mood just now. Trying to come up with a word to describe it. I'm sure that the proper word exists, but I'll be damned if I can think of it.

The word disillusioned is pretty close, I guess. So is disgusted. And annoyed.

But none of those words are quite exactly right.

As recently as Thursday, the word unmotivated would have been quite appropriate. But now, now it's more than that. The lack of motivation that I noticed then, it has mutated, evolved into something else. Something more.

So, here's the deal.

I give up.

Those things that I want out of this life? They're beyond me. They always have been and they always will be beyond me. Wanting and hoping and dreaming and even trying are all wastes of my time. Mine and that of the people unfortunate enough to be around me.

So, fuck it. Let everyone else play the happiness game. I'll no longer watch from the sidelines, and I'll no longer dream of the day when I finally get to play. I'm sick of sitting on the bench, and so I'm not going to do it anymore.

The universe can find someone else to warm its fucking bench. I'm done.

I hope this mood lasts. It suits me.

There was just the cutest girl at Rich O's last night.

Now, I know that sometimes women object to being called girls. At least the ones who are bitches do. But this girl, this girl last night was so young, and so cute, that the word girl was a perfect fit. Plus, as it turned out, she wasn't a bitch, so I'm sure she won't mind.

This girl was allegedly 21-years-old. I didn't ask for ID, though. And neither did anyone else as far as I could tell. If she'd been carded, revealed to be underage, and subsequently asked to leave, I'm sure there'd have been a riot. Incited by me. And nobody wants to deal with that. Friday nights are busy enough.

Meanwhile, I have age spots that are older than this girl. Oh well.

The point I was going to make was that she reminded me of the sister of my sister's ex-husband. Joyce was equally cute, and almost as young, the last time I saw her. Which was years ago. I think she's married now. Oh well.

Rich O's was pretty packed when I arrived, but I was able to grab a seat at the island with MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl and some PBDs. I'd been planning to have myself a Mad Bitch, but it had blown, so I had an Urthel Samaranth Quadrium (92).

I listened to the PBDs talk about various crap. I joined in the conversation a few times, but mostly I just listened to everyone else. And looked at the cute girl sitting on the loveseat.

My next beer was going to be a Bell's Sparkling Ale, which I remember quite fondly from the one time I had it back in December 2005. But that was blown too. Shit! I should have had it first. Oh well.

So I had myself a Left Hand Snow Bound (92).

Lately, I've been quite remiss in describing new beers here. I'm still putting my reviews into my official beer list, but failing to transcribe those reviews into this journal.

I will try to get back on-track. At least this once.

Left Hand Snow Bound

(draft) Clear dark copper in color. Good head and lacing. Strong spice and malt aroma and flavor. Mouthfeel seemed a little watery at first, but it seemed to thicken as the glass emptied. Flavor is nutmeg and cinnamon and a touch of citrus. A lingering slightly hoppy finish. A yummy beer.

In all honesty, the best thing about the Snow Bound is its aroma. It smells so fucking fantastic that, had the flavor lived up to the aroma's promise, I'd probably have a new all-time favorite. But alas, the flavor was merely yummy, not transcendent.

Once the island conversation shifted from fun topics, like one person's whore grandmother, to divisive political topics, I picked up my shit and moved over to the sofa and talked to those people for a while. I finished my Snow Bound and ordered a bottle of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier, but only drank half the bottle (1757). That damn Quadrium had been too ambitious a beginning, I guess.

One chick came in to smoke a cigarette and told me that I looked like I was 19. So she was clearly drunk. I mean, I've been accused, many times, of looking younger than my years, but people usually guess me to be in my early 30s. Not my fucking late teens.

I did get to talk to the cute girl for a while. That's how I found out she wasn't a bitch. But then she and her friends left and some other strangers filled in the empty spaces. I got bored and went to White Castle and then came home.

Tonight, for a few minutes, I found myself thinking about whores, and how much I hate them.

I mean, they really are worthless human beings. Much worse than sluts.

But I also got to thinking, what's the difference between a whore and a slut? Have I ever really differentiated the two in my writings?

Because I also dislike sluts. Just not as much.

Well, I know the answer to that question. At least, I know the difference between my own definitions of those words.

It's pretty simple actually. It's the same as the difference between murder and manslaughter.

Intent to cause harm to another person.

I'm not bitter, though.

I just hate whores.

I ran into myself today, after work. Talk about a surprise! But there I was. Nestled between satisfaction and ecstasy, resting comfortably between unease and misery, I found myself.

It was such an easy thing, an effortless thing, to lose myself the way I did so many months ago. Finding myself again wasn't nearly so easy. It was actually impossible for a very long time. A very very long time.

In fact, I'd stopped looking. I'd given up. I'd almost forgot that I even existed. Until today, after work.

The thing is - this is a choice for me now. It was never a choice before. I can't even say I'm bottling things up, like I said a year and a half ago. Now, I can do what I want. Think what I want. Remember what I want. There's no more constant pressure pushing at my insides. If I don't want to think about her, well then I don't think about her. Simple as that.

And, when I want to think about her, I do. Like today, after work.

Just enough to make me laugh and cry at the same time.

I found myself today, after work, and we wept and laughed together.

It was good.

I've missed me.

Almost as much as I've missed her.

...having a bad case of the munchies, and then remembering that you have a brand-new bag of potato chips in your kitchen.