The Book (Update)

Since a reader (wow, people actually read this shit?) asked, I'll post an update. Shockingly, my book was NOT rejected in the Amazon contest. Now I'm officially one of 5,000 qualified entrants. I won't find out if I make it to the semi-finals till January... hey great, three months of agonizing.

The Hammerhead Diaries, Chapter 2

11 November 2007, 4:17 p.m.
McMenamins John Barleycorns (Tigard, OR)

It's Sunday afternoon, a brisk autumn day. Teresa's off getting groceries, so she dropped me off here at the glorious John Barleycorns for a few well-deserved beers and some much-needed me-time. I'm starting with the Sleepy Hollow Nut Brown Ale. Quite good.

So you're asking yourself, "Self, why are his beers well-deserved, and why is his me-time much-needed?" Strap in, dear reader, and I'll fill you in. Teresa's mom has liver cancer, and she's been living with us for a few months. For the past three weeks or so, her dad has also been living with us. They're selling their house in Grants Pass, and they just scored an apartment right down the street from us (in Martinazzi Village, where my kids and I lived before Teresa and I bought our house (three years ago on the 27^th, which is also my birthday). They just moved out three days ago. It's been tough, if I'm being honest (and I am being honest, because what's the point of blogging if you're bullshitting?). Not because her parents are especially horrible to have around, but tough because I'm notoriously private and antisocial. Yeah, I'm the problem here, not them. But hey, I work a full-time job, I'm raising four kids, I'm under crazy amounts of financial pressure, and I just wanna come home and chill without having guests underfoot. I know, I sound like a complete asshole. A few days is one thing. We're talking weeks and months, and it's just worn on me. It's almost anti-climatic getting my house back, because I'm so tired that I'm not fully capable of enjoying it. So I took Friday off (they moved out on Thursday), plus I have tomorrow off due to Veteran's Day. Trouble is--- no school both days. So my much-needed day (or two) of solitude didn't happen. So here I am, stealing a couple o' hours at the JB. Unfortunately, it ain't nearly enough. I don't say that to be a bastard, but damn. I put up with a lot, I really do. I probably sound like a total whiner. Damn it, I put up with a lot! I'm a pretty selfless guy, all things considered, even though I bitch about it.

Ugh. That was unpleasant. These have been hard times. I think things are about to return to normal, and brighter times await. I hope, I hope, I hope. We all need it, not just me. Teresa's been under enormous amounts of stress (dealing with her mom's illness, her own MS symptoms, work-related crap, etc). I'm sure she feels a sense of disconnectedness from everything, just as I do. And hey, it's the fucking HOLIDAY SEASON now. Weeeeeeeee.

Okay, where was I? Oh yes. Enjoying the seasonal beers at my local McMenamins. Second beer: Seasonal Scarecrow ESB. Golden, kinda like Hammerhead. Haven't tasted it yet. I'm letting the anticipation build.

It's been seven months (almost to the day) since my first (and only) Hammerhead Diary entry. It was intended to be a regular thing, like every week or two. Funny how life so cavalierly tosses its monkey wrenches in our paths. So seven months later… well, this place is the same. Darkly lit, warm without being stuffy. Cute waitresses, good music in the background. They brew their own beers here, you know (and if you didn't know that, then you need to get educated. Put down that nasty Coors Light piss-water and check out mcmenamins.com.

The Scarecrow ESB… bitter, but not overpoweringly so (not that I mind overpowering bitterness). If I didn't know better, I'd suspect it has its roots in the Hammerhead Ale recipe (but more bitter). It's good.

I'd order something to eat, but we're having Panini sandwiches tonight, so I'm saving myself. We also got some gourmet salsas at Harry & David yesterday, so we'll be digging into those.

What else is new? I finally (sorta) submitted my novel for publication. Lisa the ex (of all people) alerted me to a contest on Amazon.com (the Amazon Breakthrough Award or somesuch). You basically e-submit your novel, and if you win, you get it published (plus a book deal with Penguin Publishing with a tasty $25,000 advance). Granted, there's no way in hell that I'll win (my novel has way too many f-words, methinks), but at least I finally submitted the damn thing. I'm expecting the NO WAY email any day now; in fact, they're supposed to notify me "no later than 11/12/07" if my entry is valid, so I guess tomorrow's the big day. After my official rejection, I'll send it to a different publisher. Can't stop now. I finally finished the fucking thing (see, another f-word!), so I've at least gotta try to make it pay off. We could use the cash. Daddy wants a BluRay player and a trip to San Francisco.

Next up: the Russian Lullaby Imperial Stout. It's really dark (especially in this lighting), with a nice brown head (sounds like some kinda 70's blaxploitation porn film; I'll bet Quentin Tarantino's got it in his private collection). Oh damn, that's good. Chocolately, with a hint of butterscotch. This is a dessert beer for discriminating dudes who wear their nuts outside their pantaloons. Oh shit, I'm clearly buzzing here.

Fuck, there's an annoying kid at the next booth over. If I had a complaint about McMenamins, it's that it's family-friendly (up to a certain time, I believe). Damn it, I'm getting my drink on, and I don't need to listen to some fucking brat singing and carrying on, being all precocious and me-centric. Fucking kid. I'd stab him with a fork, but then I'd be looking at jail time, and Daddy ain't about to get sent up the river. Man, I'm clenching my butt cheeks just thinking about it. Yikes.

My 20-year high school reunion is coming up next spring. I was adamant that I would NOT be attending, but suddenly I find myself back in touch with my three best friends from that period in my life (Nacho, Dave and Donovan, take a bow), so now I don't know. Just the thought of the four of us together in a room is enticing, not to mention the promise of free-flowin' alcohol and hours of hazy reminiscing. Okay, I'll say it here officially: if they go, I'll go. There, I said it. The gauntlet has been thrown down.

I don't want an iPod Touch anymore. Wait, let me explain. 16 measly gigabytes is BULLSHIT. Steve Jobs, if you're reading this (and let's face it, you totally aren't), you need to stop pissing me off and put AT LEAST 60 GB in that bitch. You will then get my money, and maybe even a handJOB. Heh, get it? Ah, never mind. Damn, I'm feeling these beers. Apparently grazing on snack mix for lunch five hours ago wasn't adequate, so it's all going straight to my head. Hah, get it? Head! Oh man.

Beer 4: Purple Haze. Um, it's made with boysenberries. I'm a bit apprehensive, but I'll drink anything (hey, it's true, ask anyone). If the serving wench would get her cute curvy butt over here, I'd order the damn thing and state an opinion.

Watched Blade Runner the other night. It was the Director's Cut, since that's the only option available at this point (the critically-acclaimed Final Cut played in Portland for two weeks, and wouldn't you know it, I missed it). A new multi-disc DVD set will be released next month, so the existing DVD had to tide me over. It didn't. Blade Runner has somehow become one of my favorite films over the years, so I'm dying to see Ridley Scott's final cut of it. One more month…. Maybe when I get it (because holy fucking hell, I WILL get it), I'll have Donovan over. It's his favorite movie, after all. He hasn't seen our 50" plasma TV yet. Yeah, I'm bragging. Sue me.

Wait, the serving wench's butt wasn't curvy AT ALL. Man. Okay, so the Purple Haze is before me, awaiting my judgment. It's kinda fizzy, and sorta fruity. Fuck, I'll never order this again. Ugh. Teresa would probably like it. She's a girl, you know. I miss the Workingman's Red, which is my favorite McMenamins beer that's NOT available year-round. I didn't drink nearly enough of it while it was available. Well, there's always next year…..

Fifth and final beer: the legendary Hammerhead Ale. Yeah, the old standby. I tend to focus on the seasonals, but ultimately I always come back home to this. Glorious. If you like beer and you've never tried it, you haven't lived.