That was fun. Not.

After our Thanksgiving meal today we went out to the woods and shot up a car with a machine gun, of all things.

It was very cool, but I now know that I'm much better with the virtual machine gun in Half Life 2 than with a real one.

Rambo I'm definitely not.

In the movies the guy almost always wins the girl in the end.

Of course, he first has to deal with obstacles, mistrust, poor timing, and all manner of pitfalls, but in the end, some grand gesture will usually win her heart.

Then the credits roll and most everyone assumes that the couple will live happily ever after.

Not I.

I know that reality will soon set in, and that's when the real tests will begin.

This is the problem with grand gestures. The other person falls for it, not you. It's like some elaborate bait-and-switch scam. You fall in love with a person that only exists for a moment then, once that moment has passed, you're stuck in a relationship with a comparatively boring person.

What happened, you wonder, to the person that threw everything away to be with you? What happened to the person that serenaded you, that sent flowers to you at work, that walked through the desert to profess their love and bare their chest as if to say my heart is yours, you may do with it whatever you wish?

That person no longer exists. Born of a moment of passion and desperation, that person ceased to be the instant the moment had passed.

I've made a grand gesture a few times in the past. It's got me laid more than once (though that was not my sole intention), and it got me a relationship that lasted a few weeks.

It's also at times been met with rejection and scorn.

And there's the rub.

To put it all on the line of course means risking it all. This is scary enough, but to risk it all with a lie, with a grand gesture that, if successful, will shortly be held up as the standard by which the entire relationship will be measured - that strikes me as insane.

Then again, I guess love is a form of insanity.

Here we are again,
a couple of days from Thanksgiving,
perhaps my least favorite holiday,
probably because of the mall crowding that it begins each
year on the day after.

But I do like the holiday itself
in that I like to reflect and
ruminate on the things I'm
thankful for. I would probably like the
holiday more if I could spend it in solitude with no social
demands placed upon me. I
am aware that this makes me seem like a
yeti or some other antisocial creature.

Little is known about the yeti,
as it probably doesn't even exist except
perhaps to scare children into going
to bed. So in that way I'm not like the yeti
or any other legendary creature. Because
people don't generally use me to scare their children.
Godzilla or a goblin would be better. Well
it looks like I've almost
rambled on
long enough.

After I post this entry I'll bet that
nobody thinks it's clever and everybody will think it's
dumb.

Maybe people will just see the strange line lengths
and assume that it's some kind of a
new-age poem or something but only
young people write that kind of poetry and I'm too old.

My brain just doesn't provide a very creative
outlet for my deeper thoughts so I end up coming off as
retarded when I try so I hardly
ever try.
                                                                                     

I've already mentioned that Saturday night we played a game called Loaded Questions. This is a game where everyone answers a question and the person whose turn it is has to try and guess who answered what. It's a fun game.

One of the questions that came up was What will you be doing in ten years?

I reflexively answered Kicking myself in the ass.

The more I think about it, the more I think I may have answered truthfully. But not for the things you may imagine. Not for the big things. It's the little things that nag at me.

The big, world-shattering mistakes I've made, painful and embarrassing as they were, are what made me what I am today.

Such as I am.

Once the initial discomfort has passed I no longer regret these far-reaching actions any more than I regret breathing.

There are, however, a whole bunch of little stupid and mean things I've done or said (or not done or not said) that I'd really like to forget.

I kick myself in the ass about what a jerk I was to that one girl back in eighth grade. She's certainly forgotten all about me by now, but I could have made her night a lot better than it was.

I kick myself in the ass about being so wrapped up with a new girlfriend that I let my all-time favorite waitress move away from Omaha without even a goodbye - let alone the hug I knew she wanted.

I kick myself in the ass for the way my friend Kelly and I used to turn on our friend Todd and make him go home crying.

Then there are the countless times that I've said the wrong thing to someone that I cared about and ended up starting a fight over it.

You know, I could probably go on for days, listing all of the times I was an asshole to someone. Every time I'm reminded of one of these incidents I'm a little embarrassed for myself. It's hard for me to accept that indeed I was that much of a prick, a shithead, an insensitive pig.

I think the thing is that I'm not that person, and I really never was. Those isolated incidents were just that: isolated. Just because I lied to a girl in the eighth grade doesn't make me a liar. Just because I hit a kid when I was five doesn't make me a bully.

Those things are not me. They're some other guy who's not nearly as nice as I am. I would never behave like that, although I have and probably will again.

The large-scale mistakes are another story entirely. I cannot shrug off the major fuck ups I've had. They are me, and without them I wouldn't be me. I'd be a happier person perhaps, a more content person certainly, but I'd also be so boring that even I couldn't stand to be around myself.

We learn from our mistakes as the saying goes. I wouldn't want to unlearn those lessons or erase those scars. They're me.

Those little things, though, I'll keep kicking myself in the ass over those. They piss me off.

Well I guess I've got my Las vegas after-work activities planned out.

Step one: Drink some Tilted Kilt.

Step two: Repeat.

If they don't have the (seasonal) Tilted Kilt I'll substitute Newcastle.

Any other activites, such as taking in some shows, seem just too daunting for me right now.

I'll be staying at The Rio, which does still have a couple of shows that I may decide to see.

One good thing about travelling alone is that I can buy single tickets to just about any show right at the last minute.

B-day greetz to my lil sister Dina, yo!

Last night several people came to my house for my sister Dina's pre-birthday party.

My beer selection was pretty straightforward: I had three and a half Mad Bitches and they messed me up. Good thing I didn't have to drive anywhere!

We played a game of Loaded Questions and I thought it'd be fun to post my responses here. Unfortunately I can't find my answer sheet so I'll have to go from memory. I know for a fact that I've forgotten at least two of my answers.

1. Calzone, pizza, garlic bread.

2. Socrates.

3. Steven Wright.

4. Scooby Doo.

5. Piano.

6. Alaskan oil drilling.

7. Garth Brooks.

8. Suburban sprawl fucking up what used to be pristine.

9. Beach Dork.

10. Wrist.

11. Snobby people.

12. F in wood shop.

13. The Fuzzy Wuzzy Kitty Store.

14. Kicking myself in the ass.

15. Don't watch commercials - I have TiVo!

16. Pool cues.

17. Ribbed condoms: for her pleasure.

18. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure

19. Jerk off with all ten penises at once.

20. September 11, 2001, 8:00 AM.

21. Chess.

22. VigilanteGirl.

23. Whip it out.

Three times.

That's how many times VigilanteGirl called me last night while I was at Rich O's. This makes a total of three times that she's ever called me. Our flirting has always been face-to-face, but now I'm wondering if we've graduated to phone flirting.

I spent the first part of the night at Rich O's standing around waiting for a seat to open up somewhere. I'm really starting to develop a selfish concern for the way Rich O's has been on Fridays lately. I mean, if the place becomes too hip and popular, the crowds of Spaten and Heineken and Corona drinkers will drive us regulars away. Or at least drive me away. I really wanted to leave right off the bat but RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude arrived and gave me something to do besides stand around and glare at all the strangers.

Finally, some strangers left the island area and we all grabbed seats. MisunderstoodGirl was with us too. The last time I saw her I kind of got a fuck you, asshole vibe from her, a vibe that I thankfully did not detect last night.

I finished my Mad Bitch at about the second time VigilanteGirl called, this time with an update on the goings-on at a really loud bar that I had no interest in going to. She hinted that her entourage might come down to Rich O's later so I decided to pace myself and therefore ordered an NABC Beak's Best.

After a while, my companions left for quieter pursuits and were replaced by ExBartender - not exactly an even trade but still a little better than sitting by myself would have been.

By the third time VigilanteGirl called, this time to tell me she was on her way, I'd switched to root beer.

By the time I'd finished my root beer another hour and a half had passed, and I was alone at the island.

I drove up to the loud bar, and saw nobody I knew there, so I went home and played Half Life 2 for a while.