Horrible self-consciousness, and a zillion hits

Holy. Shit.

The new site has been getting pounded silly. I thought a couple of hundred people might show up, but beerlooterdude.net has gotten more than one hundred thousand hits in one day flat. Needless to say, the little 192kbps uplink line is white-hot and the server's drive lights are flashing so fast I think space aliens will start sending me messages encoded in the first ten million values of pi.

I haven't been doing all that much else, though I do have a date in a couple of hours for a drink with a nice lady in Fairfax. If her wildly-attractive-to-me picture and appealing voice have anything to do with it, this could be a very entertaining evening. And she likes cats.

But, of course, here I am in a perfect white shirt with ONE SPOT of pizza oil that I managed to drip on myself at lunch, and it refuses to come out. I wonder if that new "bleach pen" might help a little. I tried a little dishwashing liquid on a paper towel and only suck-ceeded at making it bigger. Fuck.

I do have some new shirts in the car, including a pink one I rather like. I wish I had other shoes, though... the ones I'm wearing are not all that old, but the leather is tired already. I just had new heels put on them, but the uppers have gone through a lot.

I am horribly self-conscious these days. Usually, I'm OK with upcoming dates, but this one for some reason has got my stomach all knotted. Kinda like Elizabeth, but more sudden. She, by the way, is still in South America and won't be back until next week.

Hurricane is comin'. I'll be up watching as usual. I am determined to learn how to witness natural disasters and not get all depressed by them.