My Favorite Stalker

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Once upon a time, there was a boy who worked as a grant writer in Milwaukee.

One day, he was reading blogs and saw one on a blogroll called Amid Life's Crises. For shits and grins (or was it out of sheer boredom?) he clicked on the link and started reading.

Well, maybe not reading ... maybe more like looking at the pictures.

He eventually did read the blog from cover to cover, more than once. We all know how difficult it is to look away from a train wreck, right? I'm fairly certain that's what happened here, although he tells a different story.

Eventually, the boy started following the girl on twitter. She had no idea when she reciprocated the follow that the boy stalked her knew her from her blog. Over the next few months, they had a few interactions on twitter. One day the conversation got a little flirtatious and the girl took it to DM.

Now, the girl had done this in the past with fairly consistent results. Public twitter conversation moves to DM. DMs lead to exchanging cell phone numbers - texting is so much easier than DM-ing. Exchanging cell phone numbers leads to the girl learning that the flirtatious DMs are coming from a married (or in a serious relationship) boy. The girl is then reminded that she is not good enough for someone who is actually available to her (Don't even start with me. That is how my brain works!).

This time was different.

The boy was single.

The boy confessed to his stalking prowess.

This should have terrified the girl, yet somehow she was strangely comforted in knowing that the boy knew her secrets, knew her past, knew she wasn't perfect, and still wanted to get to know her personally.

They met and have since celebrated their Plastic Straw Anniversary.

I'd love to tell y'all this story ends with a "And then they lived happily-ever-after," but I don't know that. There are many things that need to be taken care of (like my divorce from Voldemort - a.k.a. "husband" - which I anticipate is going to be ugly). I can tell you the prognosis is promising.

I can also tell you that My Favorite Stalker (Mike) has been a surprise addition to my (and Cam's) life. He treats us both with a level of respect and care we've never known.

Sure, he has his "flaws", like his odd ability to store sports statistics in his long-term memory and spew them at unsuspecting passers-by, but I'll take that "flaw" over Voldemort's demand that he have control over all of the car windows any day.

Ya know what I mean?

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Friday Wrap Up

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Remember these? 

The little bits of the week that don't quite make up a blog post?

The weekly reflection of posts, comments and life in general?

Funny how rooted in tradition a blog can become. What? It's me who is rooted in tradition? You're kidding, right? I can be spontaneous ... or at least I can use spontaneous in a sentence!

***

In addition to leaving tumblr (with the door open) I've started spending a little more time on facebook (it's the only way I can play Bejeweled Blitz). As more and more of my family drinks the facebook Kool-Aid, it's also an efficient way to keep up with them ... and let them keep up with me.

The down side? Sometimes my dad talks about visiting porn sites on my facebook wall *rolls eyes*

***

Back to blogging just one week and I managed to pick up where I left off - irritating people who don't want to be publicly accountable, but do want to spew their vile rhetoric in a public forum.

My name is Dana and I am a troll.

I'm not the ugly kind of troll who hides under a bridge and leaves nasty comments anonymously, or the kind that writes comments and then deletes them so that the public can't see them but the writer can, or even the kind of troll who writes passive-aggressive posts in response to someone else's post never mentioning the person so that they can always claim they didn't say it.

Nope! I'm the kind of troll who will post a controversial opinion just to get people stirred up. The kind of troll who will call you on your shit in front of everyone without asking for your permission. Think of me as a Shrek troll. Shuddup! I know Shrek is an ogre, not a troll, but if he were a troll he would be just like me!

And you know what?

I'm good with that!

***

I need to do a Cam update (who is now officially old enough to drive and eligible to get his driver's license in June), a Voldemort update (my new nickname for "husband" because I know how much people love it when bloggers use aliases), and a "My-Favorite-Stalker" update (no, not you Kimmeh ... nor your buddy Denis).

Next week!

I promise!

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Gender Reveal Parties?

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My friend Jana posted the following tweet yesterday:

I had never heard of a "Gender Reveal Party". My first thought was it must be an event where some of the attendees dress in drag and, throughout the night, everyone tries to guess their gender. After each party guest consumes the mandatory 20 Jell-O shots, someone rings the "Gender Reveal" bell and everyone takes off their clothes, revealing their gender.

Imagine my disappointment surprise when I googled the term and discovered a "Gender Reveal Party" was:

A popular party where an expecting couple, along with their friends and family, find out the sex of their baby for the first time in a creative way. The ultrasound technician seals the news in an envelope, which is then dropped off with a baker. The baker then bakes a cake with the appropriate gender color filling and/or cake color (that's blue for a boy - pink for a girl - gender stereotyping begins in utero now), but decorates it in a non-gender specific manner. At the party, the expecting parents cut the cake to learn the gender of their baby(ies), sharing that special moment with all of their guests.

Are you kidding me?

It seems like a really bad idea to give an uncomfortably pregnant woman, standing next to the man she will be screaming obscenities at during delivery, a sharp knife ... especially in front of a bunch of witnesses party guests.

We know the party guests are not giddy with anticipation of learning the baby's gender. Nooooo ... they are looking at the expecting parents, imagining them naked in the Carnal Crisscross position, which is a bit uncomfortable (and strangely erotic) for Great Aunt Betsy!

Look, I get that pregnancy is an exciting life event, but soon enough that little Crotch Parasite is going to escape from it's protective shell, screaming, spewing unidentifiable liquids from all of its orifices, and inducing sleep deprivation for the next 18 years.

My guess?

The parents are going to wish they attended my version of a "Gender Reveal Party" soon enough.

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