Got an email from HatGirl this morning.

HatGirl!

Yay!

Got lots of emails from her, actually, but one in particular was hilarious.

She told me that she'd reserved a seat for me, at her wedding reception, at a table for her special friends. This table is in the front of the room, probably so she can keep an eye on us in case we get out of line. But there's also an element of honor involved.

But that part was sweet. It wasn't the hilarious part.

The hilarious part was where there was another seat, presumably next to mine, reserved for "Dave's guest."

Bwahahahaha!

The reason, of course, that this is hilarious, is that the only person who would accompany me is already busy that night.

I know she's busy that night, because she's the bride.

So I invited someone else. The girl I really want to go with anyway. Her acceptance is extremely unlikely, but stranger things have happened.

Maybe, just in case, I should go get one of those blow-up dolls. Probably better than sitting at the reception alone like a chump.

The weather page thingy says 87 degrees tomorrow, but with a 30% chance of showers and thunderstorms.

That latter part sucks, by the way. We're supposed to go do something tomorrow. I've only been looking forward to it for weeks.

So I don't know if we're going to do it or not. I guess I'll find out.

UPDATE: We're not, but not because of the stupid weather. Because of stupid work commitments.

I don't think it would come as a surprise to anyone who knows me. I'm in a fucked-up situation these days.

I spend an inordinate amount of my time looking for, I dunno, something.

For what exactly, I can't say, because I don't know what it is. I think that I might be looking for what's left. Something that survived that terrible flood. A recognizable chuck of debris on the bank, perhaps. Just something to remind me, though I could never forget.

The rest of the time, I wait.

For what? Again, I don't know. I don't know what it is, but I'm waiting for it right now.

---

I had a really good day today, but I guess I'm having a bad night. My moods bend in the slightest breeze. So tonight, I'm depressed. No big surprise there, I don't suppose. Except to me, because the cause of my mood is different than usual.

Today, it's neither the pain of the past nor the agony of the present hammering away at my mood. Nope, today it's the future, of all things, that torments my thoughts.

The thing about the future is that I'm not really sure there's going to be one.

I think that, today, I'm going to shut my cat Buddy in the basement when I get home. That way, he won't be able to fight with Nugget, and that way, I'll be able to take an actual nap.

I can't remember ever being this tired, except maybe the first time we all went to Philadelphia for work, a few years ago.

And, speaking of Philadelphia, we're all supposed to go back there in January. Oh boy! Philadelphia in January!

I'm pushing to just have us do the work from here. There's no reason that any of have to actually be in Philadelphia. But I push for this every year, and it never does any good. We always have to go.

Anyway, today I had a nice lunch with her at Hard Rock. With my potato skins, I had a Blue Moon (883) that was pretty damn tasty. My company was lovely as always.

I seem to have lost the ability to tell when someone is kidding. Or maybe I never really had that ability. This was the second day in a row that she totally fooled me with her kidding. My working theory about this is that, because I always expect the absolute worst, that's why I take this kidding seriously.

What might be an interesting experiment would be to be kidded about something good. But then I'd have to face the disappointment when the farce was revealed. And I'm pretty sure that my disappointment quota for this century is already used up.

I guess there's no way to win unless I turn into an optimist so I can recognize kidding. Not much chance of that happening.

I'm rambling because I'm tired.

I had a good day.

I should be careful, a guy could really get used to days like this.

A guy could find himself in serious trouble.

Okay, guess where I am, as I write this. Not my actual physical location, but guess what kind of place I'm in.

Guess!

You guessed that I was in a bar, didn't you?

Wrong!

I'm in a coffee house!

Weird, huh?

And I guess it's a Christian coffee house, or that's what I'm told anyway. Not that that matters to me one way or the other. It's the being in a coffee house that make this weird for me. I'm pretty sure that this is the first time I've ever graced such as establishment with my presence. Despite having lived in Seattle for six years.

Anyway, I'm here because I was invited, sort of. Or maybe I invited myself. Hard to tell sometimes.

I feel like some kind of hippie or something. I wonder if I should start hating myself. I also have a strong urge to smoke a clove cigarette, but they don't allow any smoking in here. I think that's part of the Christian coffee house thing they've got going.

Also, I hate coffee!

But, of course, I'm not here for the coffee, or even for the nonsmoking or the Christian music playing softly. I'm here for the company, and she's lovely.

So, I'm writing this on the back of an old carshow flyer from 2002, using a pen from that same era. I'm doing these things because my aforementioned lovely companion says I can't use her pen, nor can I have a sheet of paper. So I found an old pen and some old flyers in my glove compartment.*

Lovely, but stingy, apparently.

I'm drinking this fancy hippie soda named Bawl's Guarana. I don't know why - I just picked it. Maybe because of the pretty blue bottle. It says "High Caffeine Guarana Beverage" on the label. So that might be good, to have some extra caffeine. I was up late last night, and up early this morning.

Since we've been sitting here, two different women have walked in looking like they're having the worst day of their lives. I feel like I should go offer them a hug or something, but (a) I'm not one to go around hugging strangers, and (b) they look like they're bitches.

---

And now I feel a little useless. I don't want to bother my lovely companion with my inane chatter. She's trying to work, after all. I just leafed through an entire chick magazine, but that didn't really make me feel any more useful. Not a lot of call for magazine-leafer-throughers these days, I don't think.

I'm not bored though. I mean, I am here after all. So it could be much much worse. Like I could be somewhere else and not have such a pretty girl for company.

This fancy caffeine soda isn't all that good. Tastes kinda like flat Sprite.

Wow, I've managed to fill up this entire sheet of paper with my scribblings. I thought for a second about just scanning it and then posting the image, but I don't think I want anyone to know just how bad my penmanship is.

---

And now, I've got a decision to make. Do I start writing on the back of this second sheet of paper, or do I stop?

I'm pretty sure that no lives will be saved or lost as a result of my decision, but it could definitely affect how bad these craps cramps in my hand get.

Heh, when I first wrote the word cramps I accidentally wrote craps instead.

Like I had craps in my hand.

Gross.

* - She was kidding, and I was totally fooled by her kidding. Of course she would have let me use her pen, and a sheet of paper.

It turns out that HairCutLady is still very much alive and in business. She just had her phone disconnected because they doubled her monthly rate.

So, yay!

I keep hearing about things I'd never do, or that I would definitely do. Depends on the actual things.

The point is that I keep hearing things that make me think I'm a good person. A better person.

What the point should be is that it's not a contest. And another point should be that, if it was a contest, then I lost a long time ago.

As of tonight, it's been four weeks since my friend WomanRepellant died.

Since I'm in a crappy mood anyway, I figured I'd crack open a bottle of Avery The Reverend (625) and have another conversation with his ghost.

I hope he's been doing okay. I hope he took my advice, four weeks ago, to go and haunt pretty girls for a while. I know that's what I'd do if I were a ghost.

UPDATE: It was a nice talk. Even though I got distracted by some emails, he understood. And I certainly understood when he looked at his ghostly watch, muttered something about NotHideousGirl taking a shower, and vanished in a puff of fog.

He may have been a dirty old man, but he was my friend, and I miss him.