Sunday, June 29, 2008

Can't Stop Interstalking You

Are you being stalked? Yes, but only because there's nothing better on TV.

Listen, kids I'm wicked sorry, but as you've long suspected I'm stalking you. Woah, killer. Woah. Put down the shotgun and tell the hard working 911 folks that you play a lil' jokey. Shhh, easy, now. Easy. That's it, put it down. Let's hug this shit out.

I'm not stalking you in a direct, "go-to-your-apartment-and peer- into- your- windows- and- watch- you- change- while- smelling- a- tissue- you- threw- away- a- week- ago- when- your- allergies- were- acting- up - because -of -all -the -ragweed" kind of way. No, baby, that's not me. That requires to much work and furthermore requires that I leave the comfort of All Day Pass to see Enchanted On Demand and an endless supply of string cheese. You think too highly of yourself, megalomaniac.

No, I'm interstalking you. Which, unlike cyberstalking, involves innocuously Googling you immediately after meeting you (making sure to include the obligatory stop at Google Images to see if you have done anything of note, for I am a sycophant), and scanning through your public Facebook and MySpace pictures.

Am I mentally deranged? Socially retarded? A Sluggard? Yes.

I am also the World's Laziest Conversationalist. No really, I have a tiara and sash that I look really hot in. Social engagements are work. Whether you're seeking out a funny quip you can steal and pass off as your own, angling to land a free drink, or positioning yourself to cozy up next to that lady in the hotpants (meow), none of these things can be achieved without feigning interest in what another person has to say. yucky.

If you think you're going to see the person you just met again, DON'T LISTEN. Simply add them as a friend on one of the previously mentioned social networking sites immediately following your introduction and you'll be able to continue your burgeoning friendship have future conversation starters, without the chore of heeding the words of others. That's the power of interstalking! You're welcome.

Throughout the years I have learned that never settle for interstalking friends' friends. I'm simply too good for that. Why resign oneself to that when you are one double click away from inter-pursuing minor sports figures and reality TV stars? Yes, picture it, you D-list celeb stalker, cyberfriend! Huzzah, for sure!

Meet my MySpace friend, AVP hottie / volleyball pro, Danalee Bragado. What's that? You doubt we are friends? We totes are! Just look at what I cleverly posted on her page just today:

Hey Danalee,​ I have a good feeli​ng about​ this year.​ So good in fact that I think​ of you often​.​ Mostl​y when I'm in the midst​ of mans​capin​'​.​ Norma​lly,​ I use this time to shape​ Sesam​e Stree​t chara​cters​,​ but this time aroun​d,​ it's Bragado in Arial​ Narro​w font (cause there are lots of letters).​ Yes, a good year indee​d.​.​.​.​"

Danalee messaged me back, like, right away and told me she loves Sesame Street too! Who said the interstalk can't lead to true connections!?

As you might suspect, over time, even pursuing jetsetting non-lesbian volleyball players can grow tiresome. So I've set my sights even higher and taken to interstalking the world.

BEHOLD! What you're looking at right now is the creepy, unfettered power of Google Analytics!!! Mwaaaaahhh ahahahahaha! Yes, as you read this post covered in jam, singing the theme song to Mork & Mindy while teaching your dog to shit in the toilet, I see you. You appear to me in the form of a telling orange dot.

What does my worldstalk tell me? Aside from being a Force of Nature in Manhattan, as long suspected, I am huuuuuuuuuuuuuge in Croatia. I've got my eye on you, Croatia. Here's hoping you get into the European Union, friends! If I have anything to say about it (and I don't) you'll be there soon, just keep your collective chins up.

Phew, all this international interstalking has made me hungry. Wanna come over for some food? You do? Oh, that's just wonderful. What will we be having? You're favorite dish! Shhhh, don't tell me what it is, I already know.

EDITORIAL: Yup, I have even given myself the heebeejeebees, and for that I'm sorry-esque. Anyway, Happy
National Where's the Thong Week, y'all!

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