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November 20, 2003 Fear Not the Ass of Hotness Editor's Note 11/24: Half of this was written last week, and then I forgot to send it home so I could finish it up over the weekend... so I'm finishing it up right now. Just to explain the potential disjointedness you may experience. Do not adjust your monitors. Some of this might be somewhat repetitive to the readers who have been keeping up with Colloquial. Up to the minute broadcasting of the news of my life! It doesn't get much more gripping, folks. Huh. I just checked the entry for this time last year. I'd just found out that I didn't get the promotion I was going for, I was 195 days away from my sabbatical (oh, to be at that point right now for my second one! Except that would make me 35), and I'd just had my 30,000th visitor. Earlier this week, I had my 50,000th visitor (according to Site Meter, which has a very different number than my Happy Dreamhost Stats. Dreamhost says I've had 4,860 just so far in November, as opposed to Site Meter, which says I've had 1,050). Is 20,000 visitors a year good? Top search hits include: 4: gunter glieben glauchen globen (again - this one comes up a lot) 3: nativity scene 2: storyteller 2: dentist drill cavities girlfriend 2: big lake and arizona 2: days go by and still i think of you 2: stay low breath slow 2: the storyteller 2: bitchin pictures 1: walk personality 1: we drank beer pictures 1: workout blog 1: fat liza marie 1: crock pot mashed potatoes ranch packet milk 1: calvin's mom and dad 1: american consumerism 1: drawing legs 1: without her teeth 1: thanksgiving stress 1: lubumbashi soccer disaster Why on earth my site would come up for that last one, I have no idea. Did I write about that? I don't remember. Tonight I go to my first Suns game ever. I just thought I'd mention that for posterity. Really, watching sporting events on TV is just not my thing, and I don't consider any particular sport or any particular team to be interesting enough to follow. But I love going to live games of anything. Baseball, hockey, football, and now basketball. I love to sit there with my beer ($8.00 for ONE beer - it's criminal), grinning at Calvin and Marie, joining in on the hooting and hollering, though I seldom know what I'm hooting and hollering for. For tonight's game, we're going with a very large crowd from work. Since I really like most of the people I work with, enough to hang out with them on a social basis, this should be a good time. Even though Heather bailed on us. Feh, what kind of person would prefer to work out over drinking beer and eating food of questionable nutrition? I ask you. Editor's Note: A good time was had by all, despite the aerie seats (and an obnoxiously drunk co-worker), and we won! Unlike Mo's entry today, I cannot live without paragraph breaks. Even though my brain usually runs things together in one long thought-paragraph. And even though I change topics just as often and nonsensically as she does in her entry. So. There's that. This past week, I've been the mall's bitch. I am a slave, apparently, to Gadzooks and American Eagle Outfitters. I've always been a frequent shopper at American Eagle. It just seems to suit my style, and the mental image I have of myself. Plus, you know, comfy clothes, not too bad on pricing, regular sales, and this scent that always makes Calvin go "Mmm!" every time I wear it ("Relax" body spray, but they apparently don't make it anymore). Good times. But I apparently never gave Gadzooks enough of a chance before, until Marie dragged me in there last Sunday so she could get some clothes she's had her eye on. See, before, I figured anyplace named "Gadzooks!" (with an exclamation point in the name, even) would just be too teenage trendy for me. And yet! There were sweaters of ribby goodness, and black cuffed pants to go with them, and those shirts that are a button up collared shirt sewn together with a ribbed vest such that the tails of the shirt hang free from the bottom of the vest and look sloppy yet in a cute sexy way, somehow (can you tell that I've been reading Ms. Fu?). Now she and I have identical pants and shirts - we'd find them separately, run into each other later in the store, say "Look what I found!", and then say, "Hey! I picked up the same one!" We would be able to share each other's wardrobe, were it not for the fact that she's a size 3, and I, well, I'm not. I guess I dress young for my age. And yet I'm going on with the not caring. And did you know, apparently catsuits are coming back into style? I kid you not. Heaven help us. I have succumbed to some fashion trends (capris, boot cut jeans, the aforementioned sloppy shirt), but I ain't wearing one of those. I got two pairs of jeans from AE that make my ass look so good. The night after we bought them, Marie and I forced Calvin to go out to dinner with us just so we could wear our new jeans. And exclaim every five minutes, "My butt! Is so hot!! Lookit my butt!" A woman will pay a LOT of money for jeans that she feels sessy in. If you're very curious about just what I bought, the jeans are here and here. I highly recommend them. Hot butts. That seems like a good note to end this entry on. Comments on this entry? Head on over to Colloquial!

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