I'm not feeling very interesting today, even though it was jeans day and three (three!) different girls commented on my weight loss. They, obviously, all want it up the ass.

I haven't written a boring entry about the boring TV I watch lately, and I'll rectify that now.

I've been watching three new Fall shows, and I'm becoming convinced that all of Hollywood is out of ideas. So they steal each others' ideas.

Surface
Something is in the water, and this hot brunette marine biologist tries to find out more while the government tries to keep it covered up. The worst actress in the world plays the mother of a kid in the show.

Threshold
Something appears above the water, and this hot brunette contingency expert leads a government team that tries to keep it covered up. The bad guys are pod people of some kind. The worst actor in the world plays the head of the whole shebang.

Invasion
Something is in the water, and this hot brunette reporter is part of a group that tries to find out more, while the government tries to keep it covered up. The bad guys are pod people of some kind. The second-worst actress in the world plays the hot brunette's husband's ex-wife.

A few more points because I feel like typing some more:

I hate it when movies and television shows resort to the pod people gimmick. They're basically shouting to the world that they have no budget for special effects, so don't expect to see anything cool, ever, unless it's CGI.

The government cover-up gimmick has been played out for decades. At least Threshold gives it a bit of a twist by making the government the good guys.

Surface was supposed to premier earlier than it did, but they postponed it because of Katrina. See, the first episode of Surface featured a hurricane ravaging Florida.

The acting by the black guy on Threshold and the kid's mom on Surface is absolutely atrocious. And I've seen the guy in other things and I don't remember him sucking. It could just be the writing and directing with him I suppose.

Invasion is a Shaun Cassidy production. Yes, that Shaun Cassidy. Weird, huh?

I only really expect one of these shows to last. I hope it's Surface because at least they don't have pod people. Plus that show's hot brunette is slightly hotter that the other shows' hot brunettes.

Nat always thinks I'm fishing for compliments, but I'm really not. Fishing for reassurance is about as close as I get.

Until now I suppose.

Tonight I was reading back through some stuff I've written, trying remember what I was feeling when I wrote it. I ran across a couple of sentences that really jumped out at me.

So, I'm going to put those two sentences here, and I'm asking you, dear reader, to tell me the first opinion you have of them.

You looked at me, and your eyes burned straight through the shell I'd constructed like it wasn't even there. They then sought out my heart, and set it aflame.

Thanks.

For the first time in a couple of weeks, I went to Rich O's after work today.

I met up with RealTrainGirl and MisunderstoodGirl. I had a Baltika 6 (241) and we sat around and shot shit for a while. It was very nice. I really miss the old days at Rich O's when I had actual friends that would actually go in there.

I haven't been going there after work for a while because, as part of my bottling process, I'm supposed to be staying away from the scene of the crime as much as possible. I guess that's working out pretty well, but there's a gotcha there too.

Going there during the weekdays was always supposed to be my early warning system. It didn't do me a bit of good in August, but I can really see it saving my ass at some point. I really don't want to be afraid of the place, but without any warning system I'm not sure I can avoid at least a little bit of fear. As much as I glossed over what happened in August, it really did do quite a number on me.

Oh yeah, at Rich O's there were about twenty of the LOUDEST MOTHER FUCKERS I've ever seen. I really really really REALLY hope they never come back. I hate them so much.

I'm having a hard time finding balance in this 'blog.

One day, I'm a writing about boring bullshit like what beer I drink or what TV show I watch. In other words, I write about what I do. Nobody cares about that shit. Hell, I barely care about it myself.

The next day I'll overcompensate by writing about how annoyed or depressed or whatever I am. I write about what I feel. The writing seems to be a little better, but all that whining has to get old very quickly. If I'm tired of it, I know everyone else must be sick and tired of it.

So, one day I'm a boring person that nobody wants to read, and the next day I'm a whiny baby that nobody wants to read.

And then, then you have those really special days like today, when I whine about being a boring nobody.

Buying show tickets today reminded me of one of my more deranged fantasies.

This is one that I had back in May, the last time I was in Las Vegas, the last time I went to a fancy show.

I went to see Ka at the MGM Grand. I sat in the front row, next to the aisle.

The seat next to me was empty.

Kind of strange. The thing was sold out, and had been for weeks, but that seat was empty.

I figured that somebody must be running late, or that they'd made other plans. Changed their mind about the show. It was a single empty seat, so whoever had it reserved was in the same boat I was in. Alone. Or at least they were alone when they bought the ticket. Now, who knew?

At about ten minutes after the show started my fantasy began.

(I'm not really sure how to go about styling this part. Should I italicize and indent it, or just describe it like a normal person? The former I think. I can always go back and change it later.)

The house lights have dimmed, and the stage has become frenzied. All eyes are on the performers as they go through the first scene. I, like everyone else, am mesmerized. A form crosses in front of me, briefly distracting and annoying me. The form takes the empty seat beside me.

Wait a minute.

I turn my head to the right and try make out the shape next to me. It's pitch dark, but I know who it is. Her perfume is hinting, her body heat leading, but her presence - her presence is unmistakable.

I smile in the dark. I reach over and find her hand. I entwine my fingers with hers, and I never let go.

Found this incomplete document when purging some old files from my computer today.

AGENT CODENAME: KOKO
MISSION: INDUCEMENT TO ACTION VIA PSYCH. HARASSMENT (STANDARD)
MISSION STATUS: FAILED

CHRONOLOGY

15 JUN 2004: Initial assessment of subject vulnerabilities indicates that an adjustment of projected timeline would be feasible. Adjusting estimated mission completion to 1 AUG 2004.

19 JUN 2004: Subject proving to be more amenable to suggestion than previously calculated. Adjusting estimated mission completion to 15 JUL 2004. Requesting additional agents to eliminate secondary target.

20 JUN 2004; Secondary target eliminated. Subject and primary target may be beginning to suspect my presence. Primary objective attainable but subject did not repeat did not achieve.

26 JUN 2004: Mission has suffered a setback. Subject has definitely noticed my presence, and is beginning to actively fight my influence. A frontal assault may no longer be possible. Adjusting estmated mission completion to 15 AUG 2004.

12 JUL 2004: Subject is attempting to veer from defined mission objectives. Will attempt to correct. Requesting additional agents to eliminate secondary target.

24 JUL 2004: Secondary target eliminated. Adjusting estimated mission completion to 1 SEP 2004.

8 AUG 2004: Requesting additional agents to stabilize primary target.

8 AUG 2004: Primary target stabilized. Final objective in sight, but subject continues to fight my influence, and does not approach target. Adusting estimated mission completion to 15 SEP 2004.

According to the date on the file, I started writing this just after my gorilla friend left.

Stolen from rebunting.

After minutes of indecision, I've decided on my Las Vegas itinerary.

I have decided that, while in Las Vegas, I will drink beer.

For the most part, this means that I will be at The Tilted Kilt at the Rio. At other times I may be at Main Street Station enjoying some of their brews, or I may be at The Freakin' Frog. Between those three places I can get anything I'd want to drink.

Sunday night, I'm seeing this La Reve show at Wynn Las Vegas. It's not Cirque du Soleil but it seems to be the same type of show. Music and stunts and skimpy costumes and shit. Wynn Las Vegas may not have any good beer - seems more like a wine place to me.

Tuesday night, I'm going to try again to see the Cirque du Soleil show Zumanity at New York New York. Diehard stalkers will remember that I had intended to see this show in May but couldn't because I'm retarded. Before and after that show I'll be found at either ESPN Zone or Nine Fine Irishmen.

Other than those two nights, I have no plans. Hopefully something will come up and I'll have enough money to take advantage of it.

Everything should be all set. I've got my flight tickets, my hotel reservation, and my show tickets. Now I just have to wait. Six weeks is going to seem like forever.

(Edit: Duh. Arrive morning 12/2, depart morning 12/9)

You know what would be funny?

Me neither.

I've been sitting here trying to think of something funny to write, but I'm drawing a blank.

I remember a joke that I saw a kid at Target tell his mom. It's kind of one of those jokes that you have to hear instead of read, but here goes anyway.

You say "Knock knock."

They say "Who's there?"

You say "An interrupting cow."

They say "An interrup..."

And you interrupt them by saying "Mooooooooo!"

That never fails to get a chuckle out of me.

Meanwhile, I'm noticing that Neela hasn't posted about her new job yet. I wish I had a new job.

Actually that's not right. I wish I'd just hurry up and win this powerball thingy so I didn't have to work at all. It's apparently a lot harder to win the lottery than they make it seem.

I may have to rethink my retirement plans.

Meanwhile, this chick told me today that she liked my haircut. This is exactly the same haircut I've had for at least ten years. Maybe she wants it up the butt.

Hey! Neela just posted! I gotta go!

• People that are so-called experts, get paid five times more than I do, and know about half what I know.