Random Thoughts of a Travelin' Man

This is a picture of Cumberland Brews in my hometown of Louisville, Ky. Some of the best beer I've ever swilled down my biscuit-hole is made here at this tiny brewery/restaurant.

I'll be in Louisville this weekend and I'll be having several Nitro Porters, Pale Ales, and whichever Stout they have on tap. I only wish they bottled their beer so I could take some back to Nevada with me.

I'll be gone until Monday but I hope to use a friend's computer and post completely Ted Kennedy-drunk either Saturday or Sunday. That should be interesting. Or a complete disaster that could lead to the absolute demise of this blogsite. Either way.

I've been thinking some more about my Alanis Morissette post: Boy, am I topical or what? That post was practically ripped from the headlines of today's paper. I am so not afraid to take on pop stars who peaked in popularity a decade ago! I'll bet the cast of Silver Spoons is quaking in their boots at the thought of being vegASSized. Look out, Jesus Jones, you're next.

I know someone who's being stalked at her job and it really pisses me off. Mother of Judas, some people need to fucking die. Hey, wastes of air out in blogland, the girl who was nice to you at the Circle K doesn't want to see you outside of her place of employment. She doesn't want to go to a Comic Book convention with you. She doesn't want you to follow her home and, when she pulls the shades down to undress, masturbate to her silhouette. She doesn't want to see your dick. And most of all, she doesn't want you to kill her! If it gets to the point that someone must die, then it should be you.

Whenever I go to my local Starbucks I'm always greeted by a nice, young, attractive blonde girl with a cheery tone and inviting smile. Each and every morning, no matter how hectic the pace, she makes me feel special. Do you know why she does this? BECAUSE IT'S HER FUCKING JOB, THAT'S WHY! Yeah, she's probably genuinely kind, but she doesn't like me any more than she likes the million other people who come into that Starbucks every day. She may prefer to wait on me as opposed to someone who treats her like shit, but the story ends there. I don't think she'd be quite as interested if I ran into her at the mall, SINCE SHE DOESN'T WORK THERE. I get it, and I'm lonely and quasi-delusional. Why don't these stalker fuckbrains understand? I worked at a Pier One part time when I first moved to Las Vegas, and one of our assistant managers, who also did modeling work, had two -count 'em, two- stalkers. She was one of the nicest people I've ever met and that was her fucking reward for being a decent human being. She smiled at a couple of lowlife walking afterbirths and they made her life frightening and unpleasant. I hope the two of them get together this Saturday night for a few movies, a bowl of popcorn, a pint of Ben and Jerry's, and a double suicide.

Everyone have a good weekend. I'll try to post drunk but if not, see you next week.