Stalking My Stalker

Yes.

Though I won't give my secrets out, I successfully stalked my stalker. Name, address, even previous addresses in different states and names of relatives. My investigative skills took a whopping 25 minutes and 3 calls. Let this be a lesson to all those creepy stalkers out there who think they're pretty smart.

The only thing that sucks more than being stalked, is a stalker being stalked by his/her own "victim"

And like I said a few posts ago, here is the cell number: 623 313 5153. Please feel free to sign this number up for text spam such as daily horoscopes, sale specials, restaurants, gyms, whatever you can think of! Be creative :)

Thus is Life

I've begun having vivid nightmares about my thesis. My deadline is the 13th of August, and as each day passes, the more worried I become. I fear on August 13th, I will hand the thesis to my professor, begin twitching, fall to the ground, and die.

The best part is, this written document single-handedly controls my mood, my eating or lack thereof, my sleep, my thoughts, pretty much my entire conscious life. It's the like the mistress I'll never have.

And it calls my name even now...

Go to Sleep, my baaaaaabyyyy....

The insomnia is back, ten times worse. At least before, I used to busy myself at 3 am. Now, I can stare at the wall for three hours or read about the drilling predation on the paleozoic brachiopods without even a hint of sleep.

What I need to do is somehow prevent myself from thinking. I've brainstormed ideas. I could watch this until I fall asleep: http://www.badgerbadgerbadger.com/ but the music gets annoying so I'd have to listen to it without sound and I have a feeling I'd have nightmares about giant badgers attacking me. Ok, so cross that one off the list.

Next, I thought maybe I could focus all my energy into meditation. Just breathe in, breathe out, and think about nothing. Like yoga. At 3 am. On my bedroom floor.

It just might work.

Any other ideas for curing insomnia?

The Cluck Factor

As luck would have it, after I was done grocery shopping this evening, I stopped at the entrance of the store to fish for my keys before walking into the parking lot. I always pre-fish for keys inside the store because my friend in undergrad told me it was safe. However, this friend also told me that if I was ever in a dark parking lot and a strange-looking man was approaching, I should drop on all fours, cluck like a chicken, and begin pecking at the ground. This, she informed me, would confuse the attacker and he would run away.

With my luck, if I was ever unfortunate enough to be in that position, my "attacker" would probably be a handsome, 6 foot, blond hair, blue eyed good samaritan who was merely trying to tell me I had toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe and as I would be in the middle of pecking at the ground, he would call 911 and they would put me in a mental asylum.

Anyway, as I'm walking to my car, a woman appeared out of nowhere (no seriously) and asked me if I had "change for the bus." For a second, I wanted to roll my eyes and ask her if by bus, what she really meant to say was beer. She looked disheveled and tired and of course, the woman in me felt for her, but I was too scared to pull out my wallet in the middle of the parking lot. Luckily, one of the cart collectors was hovering around so I waved for him to come over, thinking he could take her inside and help her out. Unfortunately, I didn't relay this to the woman who, upon seeing me signaling, cursed me out better than a sailor ever could and walked away in record speed. She probably thought I was signaling him to call the po-po. By the time he came over, she was a dot in the distance. The cart collector and I shrugged at each other knowlingly as if to say, "Gosh, how about these parking lot loonies, huh?"

When I got into my car, the only thought running through my head was, God dammit! I should have tested out that chicken thing while I had her right there!

The Prank-Challenged Prank Caller

I am honored to say, someone has found me worthy enough to stalk. I realize most of you would probably tell me I should change the locks on my doors and maybe call the local police station, and I would have, had it not been for the fact that my stalker is about as bright as black paint.

Here is what happened.

I received a call from an unknown caller and since I never pick up unknown calls, I didn't pick up this one. The caller proceeded to leave me a voicemail which was the following. "Hey Neeeeesh. This is Josie from lab. (insert babble here that I couldn't understand)" Then, while I am listening to the voicemail left by a girl who is clearly not Josie, but sounds more like a mix of a dying squirrel and Prince, I get an intercepting call by "Unknown." This time I pick it up and have the following conversation:

Me: Hello?
Stalker: Hello! This is Dominoes! Your pizzas are ready!
Me: Who is this?
Stalker: This is Dominoes!
Me: Really, what's my order?
Stalker: 300 pizzas!
Me: Who is this?
Stalker: Will you stop asking me the same fucking question!?
Me: (Hangs up)

As I'm pondering WTF just happened, I try to think what 14-15 year old girl would know my nickname and my lab co-worker. Not able to come up with anything, I realize someone else may have put her up to it. Possibly one of my friends. I couldn't think of any friends of mine that would have been immature enough to do that. I'm 25 for God's sake!

Ten minutes later I get a text from this number:

623 313 5153

With the accompanying text: "My dumb brothers got a hold of my phone and may have texted you. Sorry for what they did. My name is Willie and I used to have this number."

Finally, I realized my stalker was a retard. The voice on the other end of the phone was female, definitely. And if she was just some dude Willie's accomplice, how did she know my name as well as my co-worker's? And "Willie" did not have my old number. I know that for a fact because I kept getting calls for an Ana Godinez and actually got in a near brawl with the people at T-Mobile to stop her name from coming up on caller IDs when I called. I relayed this information to Without-a-brain-Willlie and all he texted back was, "It was a dude I swear!'

Ok. seriously? Douchebag gives me his number so I can trace him if I wanted, then has the brilliance to continue what he thinks is pranking me. So I texted him back saying "You're stalking skills suck. Let me help you."

That stopped the weirdness for a while, until last night at 11:40 pm, when I get a call from an unknown number. Intuitively knowing who it was, I picked up and said hello. The same girl from before screams, "THIS IS DR. SMITH!" (I don't answer and she pauses for a couples of seconds and continues.) "THE TEST RESULTS ARE BACK!' (Again, I don't reply, and she pauses and continues) "YOU'RE PREGNANT!"

At this point I say, "Yay! i'm so happy for me!' And hang up.

Seriously, I think I'm going to trace this number now. Hey, stalker, I hope you're reading this, because if I find you and learn who you are, God help you because I'm probably more psychotic than you are. AND, everyone who reads this. If you see my dead body on the news, you will know what number to give the po-po for information. Also, feel free to sign this number up for text horoscopes, foot locker ads, twitter, etc. Use your imagination!

Today is an Unwonderful Day

How does one fall over on a treadmill...that wasn't even moving? How do you even fall over a freakin treadmill? I'll tell you how. You just need to balance a spray bottle of Windex and cleaning wipes in one arm, while reaching over the treadmill with the other arm in an attempt to open the blinds of the window behind it. Then, to gain leverage, you maneuver your foot so it rests dangerously between the base of the treadmill and the bottom of the side bar. Then you actually think this will all work and aim for those blinds by reaching over the side bar with your body weight. Then the next thing you know you are lying on your back wondering if you need someone to help pick up the remains of your body with a shovel.

Easy.

Also, I've become very paranoid about everything these past few days. First it was the possibility of illness-causing microscopic caterpillars in the lettuce at restaurants. Then, the OCD behavior of locking my car even though I clearly heard my car beep the first eight times. And now, I am paranoid that my neighbors let their children play on the trampoline at 2 am just to spite me. Like HA HA, we know you're an insomniac so we're just gonna rub it in by worsening it. Whatever. I can't wait until tonight when I don a monster costume, jump over the wall, and pelt the little bastards with gobstoppers.

The Bling Factor

Thank you Anthony at Diamondcraft who created the PERFECT ring for me! Now, I get to promote the hell out of you.