I told Corrigan that if he updated his Beer O’clock posts, I’d do a Beer O’Clock post.

For my Beer O’clock post, I’d like to rant about our current watering hole. It used to be a british pub that the new owner is converting into a sports bar. The owner is nice enough, but the changes have changed our quiet back room with wifi into a room with a giant screen projection TV tuned to either sports or Country Music TV with red neck assholes drinking beer and playing pool. I don’t really mind them except for the noise. That’s the problem. The room was wonderfully quiet, and now it is perpetually noisy.

This is a shame. The place has free wifi, pretty good appetizers, and Guinness and Strongbow apple cider on tap. I don’t want this place to suck for obvious reasons.

My other rant about the place is regarding the person I ran into while grabbing a chair to sit in. I went to junior high with him, and ran into him again during one of my many stints at Tinker Toy Tech. The TTT meeting resulted in a couple of dates that eventually ended badly when, after the third one or so, I asked if he was going to kiss me. He didn’t, and he didn’t call me again, either. I remember being slightly miffed, but not really all that upset.
Fast forward a good 5 or 6 years to shortly after I got my degree. I ran into him again in the grocery store, and boy was that awkward. Somehow the conversation got to a point where I guess he thought I was trying to hook up with him, because he went on the defensive and mentioned he was married and wasn’t available. I got pissed and mentioned that was fine because I was pretty sure my girlfriend wasn’t interested in sharing me. We went our separate ways after that.

So imagine my surprise to see him, his wife, and their three or so year old daughter in the dining room of my watering hole. The conversation was far nicer this time, he gave me a hug, couldn’t remember my name, mentioned we went to junior high together, somehow skipped the TTT dating scene, and while we were chatting mentioned that he and his wife had started a church.

Granted, this is a huge step up from other ex’s I’ve run into. I’d be willing to bet money he’s never been up on embezzlement charges or fired from a restaurant managerial position because he was stealing from the till, or anything else that dumb.

And what he told me about his church sounded kind of nice. I like the idea of Friday night Cigar and whiskey church meetings. Unfortunately, according to his wife, they’re liberal in creativity, not particularly liberal in their beliefs. Somehow I don’t think they and I would be a good spiritual match.

Honestly, I’m starting to think I should just get the phrase “sorry I missed church, I was busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a lesbian” across my forehead. It’d just be easier.

This week he taught me that rat pups have a creamy filling.

I may ever eat twinkies again.

Not that I have a damn thing to say really. I’m just sort of trying to remember to blog more.

I probably should go to bed. My girlfriend has already gone to bed, and it sounds delightfully comfy and inviting. And the Aussie looks desperately ready for me to go to bed. She’s a trooper, and terribly loyal, and because I am still up and not in the bedroom, she’s keeping me company. She’s so tired she doesn’t even lift her head up when I pet her, instead just looking at me with exhausted, pleading eyes.

The guilt inspired by that look is enough to overcome my too-much-caffiene-too-late-in-the-evening urge to stay up.

So I guess it’s time for bed after all.

G’night!

My mother is doing better, and a trip to the doctor has netted her an impressive collection of perscriptions. So many, in fact, that she has a follow up appt next week to make sure they’re all doing well. One of these drugs, by the by, is the first anti-depressent they put her on. The one that actually seemed to work and made her very random, but very funny. You know, the one she was on when she came up with the idea of Big ‘Uns.

I, meanwhile, am better except for the part where I still spend my mornings hacking green shit out of my lungs for about 20 minutes before I can go anywhere. It’s getting old.