Unblocked.

Miss Gibson just asked me what was up with the blog. To quote her, she actually asked me, "Why the hell aren't you writing?"

I told her that I have writer's block, which I sorta do.

I told my friend David (of the oft-mentioned "David & Larry" coupling) that I hadn't written anything real and substantial in weeks.

"Has nothing particularly weird and twisted happened to you lately?" David asked me, trying to be helpful.

"Um, it's not that," I said. "The usual stuff has been happening. I mean, I got taken for $30 by a con artist at my store, and I still hate my job - which is still in trouble. But I just haven't been moved to write about anything."

This morning, I checked the blog counter, and I saw that the site's finally rounded 20,000 hits, so I figured I would write this to mark that occasion.

Even if the new visitors coming here might not see what the fuss is all about.

Hennessy and I went for a drink last week, which was so awkward that we later had an e-mail exchange about how damned awkward it was.

My lesbian former carpool partner Navarre, who works with me, is trying to set me up with her friend Victor again. She tried about two years ago. I think Navarre waits around until I've been burned or something before she mentions Victor again.

Granted, this time, she says Victor's been asking about me.

Victor called early last week, and I suggested coffee. But we haven't made my schedule work out yet.

After I finished my Saturday closing shift at the bookstore, Victor called me. It was 12:45 a.m., and he was at a nearby bar. When he found out I was tired and wasn't coming out, he asked if he could come over when he got done at the bar.

I repeat, it was 12:45 a.m. I have only met this man once, and he hasn't called me for two years. And I was not out that night.

I told Victor my apartment was too messy for guests and that it was against my virginal, pure sensibilities to receive gentleman callers past midnight.

He told me my apartment couldn't be any messier than his room. So I mentioned the CDC and the need for a HAZMAT suit.

So that took care of that.

I met a cute boy at the bookstore yesterday. I think he told me his name was Eric, and he talked too fast and wore glasses. I recommended both "The Mysteries of Pittsburgh" and children's books to him - and his girl roommate - before I found out for certain that they weren't married with children.

"How old is your daughter?" I asked I-Think-His-Name-Was-Eric, since he was asking me about children's books to read while preparing dinner.

"What?" he asked.

"I thought you said you read books to your daughter - you said 'her,'" I clarified.

"Oh no, we read books to each other," he said, indicating his short-haired, female roommate.

Then he laughed and said about the roommate, "Oh trust me, REPRODUCTION between US is NEVER gonna happen."

I-Think-His-Name-Was-Eric was cute. Maybe he'll read "The Mysteries of Pittsburgh" and then come back in the store to talk to me.