It's been a long time since I've had a stalker. So long I've forgotten how titillating it can be. Relax ladies. I know it's not funny to have a stalker. I know you hate it when you're being stalked. I know you're afraid and angry and indignant or some combination of the above or perhaps some other combination that I've not even considered. How could I? I'm not a woman. What? Only women can have those feelings about a stalker? I don't think so. Remember that 1971 film with Clint Eastwood and Jessica Walter? Play Misty for Me. I promise you that movie scarred me psychologically. I still shiver when I think about it. Then, of course, there are those who not only are not frightened by the idea of having a stalker, they're upset because they don't have one. I'm not sure if that's because they've never had one so they don't know what it's like or they've never had anyone interested in them in that way so any kind of attention sounds good. It could be that they are stalkers at heart and they'd just like the chance to stalk a stalker and really scare the crap out of him. Whatever. I digress.

Oh, thank xanga for footprints. Now I can track my stalker while my stalker is tracking me. My stalker comes by my site every fifteen minutes day or night, rain or shine, holiday or work day. It doesn't matter. Do you have any idea how important and desired that makes me feel? No? Well, think about it. Not very important because her name is so generic. What kind of stalker goes by the name, notifyBot? Is that Italian, French or Lithuanian? I'll bet notifyBot doesn't shave her legs or armpits. What? I'm sorry. I was born and raised in the United States of America and during the sixties when the hippie chicks who stopped shaving their legs and armpits came around I left. I'm sorry. I'm not that way anymore. You can have an old Greek lady moustache or an elderly Spanish Doña's bigote. I'm okay with that now. It's all the same to me. Who says people don't change. Never mind. I know who says it.

So, you are wondering whether to tell me or not? Perhaps you're considering how to break it to me gently. That's really kind of you. Thank you for your consideration. Really. You're too kind. No, I mean it. Go ahead and tell me. You have a stalker who goes by the same name. It's okay. I don't mind. It was nice to feel special and important even if it was just for a minute or two. I guess that was my fifteen minutes of fame. It really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I have a feeling a lot of people find that out about fame. What can I say? You didn't like me talking about love either.