Dear me! I do wonder what Ann Landers would say…it seems that even though my poor parents raised me as best they could, and though I consider myself a relatively well-mannered individual, I must admit that I am vexingly uncultured when it comes to the art of stalker etiquette.
What the hell might I be blathering about? Well, if you have read my blog for any amount of time, then you are already fully aware that the noxious womb-for-rent, Crow (see Cast of Characters), has stalked me online and in person from the very split second she discovered that I exist. Apparently I am such a captivating, mesmerizing creature that stalking me is a family affair, and her own daft and smitten father has joined in on the fun on occasion. The family that stalks together, stays together, perhaps? Or maybe crazy just doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Over the years, as Crow has followed me when I go running, taken pictures of our house, and dry-humped every blog I create with her fervent, orgasmic frenzy, I have come to realize that I am not certain how to cordially and politely handle certain stalking situations. Maybe the more culturally informed among you can kindly offer wisdom and guidance.
For instance, if I spot my stalker driving by my place of business (an hour away from where she lives), is the expected response to wave enthusiastically from my office window, tenderly toss her a long-stem rose for her undying devotion, or play along and pretend that certifiable stalkers are invisible, allowing her to patter on without interference? Is it discourteous to point her out to co-workers and revel in their “what the hell” reaction while we chortle at Crow’s expense? Is it considered a stalker failure or triumph to be heartily greeted by the stalkee?
See how unenlightened I am when it comes to stalker etiquette? Thank goodness I have the educated and genteel blogosphere to turn to for direction!
Here is another situation that puzzles me. If my stalker spends so much time near my home anyway, is it just and proper to inquire if she would be so kind as to take out our trash, pull some weeds, or sweep the front porch while she is there? As they say, idle hands are the devil’s tools. Then again, would the idle hands part apply if she is busy snapping pictures of our house or pawing through our trash? Would it be shockingly offensive to perhaps expect her to pick up a piece or two of stray litter to occupy her time between peeping in our windows and wantonly fantasizing about me?
Perhaps, then, you could offer some instruction on a more personal stalker matter. Crow has dutifully remained glued to my side like an insatiable leech (from a respectable stalking distance, of course) for years now, never wavering in her blog-stalking, searching me online, interrogating the kids about me, and doggedly trying to get near me. How does one ever repay such plaguing devotion and omnipresent surveillance? Should I acknowledge her imperishable enchantment with the ceremonial presentation of a Hallmark card, perhaps with a copy of a restraining order tucked gently inside? Should I dreamily sketch hearts and flowers on her mug shot in remembrance of her inimitable infatuation? Should I somberly flicker my office lights as she drives by yet again, once, twice, three times, in secret symbolism of my awareness of her inextinguishable yet unrequited hankering for smoldering Smirking Cat lovin’?
Ahh, I know not. I eagerly await your informed and insightful recommendations!
In the meantime, I return to pondering a crucial question that strikes deeply to the very core of our human existence: just how in the hell, pray tell, did Crow subsist before I came into her pitiful, desolate life like a divine blessing from the heavenly angels and actually gave the worthless dullard something to do?