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Apparently I have a CRACKISH stalker or two . . .
Let me tell a lil story. Once upon a time, I dated a man who I thought was nice, but he wasn't the cutest thing on the planet. I stayed with him even though I found out he was certifiably crazy. I tried to leave and he threatened to kill himself. When I finally wiggled my way out, he ran off and married a but-her-faced friend of mine a few weeks later. They became swingers and wifey, a fellow law student, used her financial aid to get a boob job (and a horrible one at that) so that she could pursue a career in stripping! How can anyone be pissed about that situation? I got out. They hooked up. I moved on with Card Shark.
Since then, I haven't wasted 2 minutes thinking about these two clowns . But on occasion, I'll run into them, or one will send me emails about how happy they are. I don't respond. Well, that was 2 years ago, so one would think that they would move on just as I had. Apparently not.
2 days ago, I get a request to add a friend on my MySpace. I didn't have a clue who this person was until I went to the site and saw the ex and stripper-wifey's pics. I just ignored it.
Then I check the comments on my blog and I see one that is so obviously left by the wedded-duo (either one or both of them). I erased the comment because it was stupid (yes I passed the bar and yes I do have a job), but I thought I'd dedicate an entire post to them because it is so obvious that it is what they want, and who am I to disappoint. So here goes . . .
For the record, I'm sorry that your sham marriage is so unfulfilling that you have to be bothered with stalking me on the Internets (and yes, I did say Internets with an "s"). To him: I'm sorry I never loved you, but you didn't love me either. Obsession is NOT love. So, stop being obsessed with me! To her: I'm sorry that you're face looks like that of a horse. I'm also sorry that you're so insecure that you have to throw yourself at people in order to get them to notice you. Good grief, suckas. Move on and leave me out of your crackish lives!
I think that was mean enough. Don't you?
posted by foxxxylove @ 3:17 AM
5 Comments:
Oh yes. I wish I knew these losers, I'd so like a crack at em. Cuz you know I get bored, and I'm always down with degrading a person or two.
Seriously, the rules of internet stalking are so simple. Everyone knows you do it without leaving a mark. Transparent comments just reveal the loser-ness of it all! ;)
How bored and weird do you have to be to sit around with your spouse and think about his ex? Creepy.
I'm glad they'll be all pleased with this post so they can think they "got" to ya. LOL.
I am bored, but I don't have a wife so I figure I can stalk Molly and Knows it all- all I want. Plus they like it. At lest that's what Foxxy tells me.
Of course foxxy dated guys who were not cute and crazy, but once told me I was not date material even though I only think of her as a friend.
Just cuz I have that photo I printed off the internet taped to my bedtime pillow doesn't mean I think your all that. It just means I am lonely.
Anyways I switch the pic with "know it alls" and molly's on a rotating basis determined by who I am the least angry with.
Yeah, I guess there is a certain level of flattery to be stalked. Makes me feel like I matter. Up until someone says "I'd like to take you up Mulholland Drive and cut off your head". I have to draw the line somewhere.
Love it - laughed my fucking ass off
What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you really that egomaniacal that you would concoct an entire scenario to post something as vicious as you did about someone who has not talked to you, looked at you, or even been in the same vicinity as you for the past several years? I’m sure you knew that I’d find out about your little blog considering that we have friends that run in the same circles and that word would come back to me—so if that’s what you had planned, congratulations! Your plan worked and yes, I’m pissed!
You know, you really need to get over yourself and whatever delusions you have that you are or were so important. First off, I have not e-mailed you, looked at you, called you, or done anything to contact you since we last spoke, so I don’t see where in the world you come up with this idea that every now and then we write you to tell you how happy we are? Please! The last time I ever e-mailed you was when YOU wrote to me two years ago to express your condolences that my cousin passed away (obviously, now I see you only did it to appease your ego, in typical Chris Love fashion). And no one contacted you on MySpace either because if one of us had, you’d know right off the bat it was us without having to look at any pictures. I mean, come on! Our names are right on the damn profile, so I find it hard to believe that “someone you didn’t know” mysteriously messaged you and you didn’t know who it was until you clicked on the pictures!
I really tried to be as nice as I could be when we split up. You asked me to respect your privacy and not talk about all those personal things you told me. And I actually did, in spite of the fact you never extended me the same courtesy when you went around talking trash about me to all your friends (again, some of them run in the same circles, so I did find out everything you said—especially about your thoughts that I was going to get married just to get back at you. Geez, how full of yourself can you be?). Sad thing is, I still kept my mouth shut and I never once bad-mouthed you to anyone even when you were so obviously bitter about being left for a white woman that you felt a need to denigrate me by going around telling people I was “crazy.”
As I said, I tried to be as dignified and mature as possible after our “official” split, but it’s obvious that it didn’t pay off, because you didn’t respect my wishes. So I’m going to set you straight about our relationship to dispel any other delusions of grandeur you may still have—because in the true essence of the word, you’re a bitch. You had all the evidence in the world in front of you that I was fucking around behind your back but yet you still stuck around, because in spite of what you want your driveling friends to believe, you so desperately needed a man in your life that you were willing to undergo the emotional embarrassment of being cuckolded in order to pacify your sad and lonely soul. Do you think that Marion would have gone through all that trouble of trying to mess up our relationship because she was jealous of our friendship? I mean, come on. I’d leave you hanging around and drive to her posh house up in Scottsdale to fuck her while her husband was gone. She would call me when I was at my apartment with you and demand that I go see her to fuck. And like a lemming, you’d just go back to your parents’ house feeling upset that I would place my “friendship” with Marion above our relationship. And yes, I fucked her all throughout our entire relationship. I also lied about my “friend” in California, who I consequently fucked when I visited Ricardo in San Francisco. Oh, and I also started fucking around on you with your own friend in January of 2004, only three months after we started dating (oh, and yes, we did fuck in your car once too! Thanks for letting me borrow it when my car got stolen!). How egotistical do you have to be to think that I “ran off” and got married two weeks after you “dumped” me just to get back at you? If you had any sense of insight and an ability to put two and two together, you’d realize that my wife and I had been involved with each other six months before you and I even split! With all this in mind, you also expect me or anybody with half a brain to believe that you “wiggled” out of the relationship? Come on! You either knew that I was doing all this shit and just didn’t want to deal with being lonely or you were too stupid to realize it (I’m sure it was a combination of both. After all, hasn’t every one of your boyfriends cheated on you? See a pattern here?). Oh, and yes, in spite of the fact that you may have thought I wasn’t very good looking, obviously, several people didn’t think the same way you now retroactively think. How convenient that now you like to go around telling people you felt sorry for me and that’s why you went out with me. The only thing missing from your childish antics is the proverbial “yo momma” jokes. And you’re right about being obsessed with you. I was obsessed, and I was fully aware that I didn’t love you. Everything was a big fat lie with me and you. Everything from the constant boo-hooing about how much I “loved” you to my trips to visit may parents. I find it hard to remember a single truth I told you the last five months I was with you (during the time I was already with my wife). It was nothing more than a game of “how far can you possibly push someone” and an obsession with how to get and keep the girl who seemed inaccessible at first, in spite of all the women I could fuck, to be frank with you. And you know what? It worked! Like an idiot, you took it and you got played, in every sense of the word! If you want to call me sick or “crazy” for my obvious lack of scruples, then go ahead. But you know what? I’m perfectly comfortable with it. I’m also perfectly comfortable with all my faults and I’ve dealt with them in due course. Obviously, you haven’t because you like to project your inadequacies and insecurities on others by making up fake scenarios to build yourself up in the eyes of your friends.
In case you haven’t noticed, it’s a small world out there and I’m sure we’ll run into each other at some point. Maybe then you’ll be a little more humble about your place in the order of things and think a little bit more before you open your big about things of which you obviously have no idea (things aren’t always what they seem). Until then, please keep my and my wife’s name out of your mouth, because I’m sure you’ll be tempted to deal with it by trash talking to others about how great you are and what a piece of crap I am. Or better yet, I’m sure you’ll put a different spin on this and post something in your lovely blog. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me because no one is stalking you--you delusional, pompous windbag! What my wife and I do with our lives is of no consequence to you and quite frankly isn’t any of your business. So keep my name out of your mouth.
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