You Want A Piece of Me?

I'm not that easy to scare. Really. So if you, reader, are the twerp who has been calling my parents' phone number, and calling the local Starbucks, trying to be cute... well, you aren't. Nor are you terribly bright. For serious. You have GOT to be about as stupid as they come.

Because I have lived in the same small town all my life, with brief educational excursions. I have the same friends. I have the same lifestyle, pretty much. I'm with the same guy I will be with for the rest of my life. I'm a creature of habit. Nobody who knows me, nobody who wants to get in touch with me, would ever have trouble finding me. Seriously, it's kindergarten simple.

And finding me via the internet is pretty simple. I mean, if you can't spell you can always cut and paste.

So the question of the week is this: how sad, pathetic, and busted-rock DUMB do you have to be to be unable to find a fat chick with a neurotic pug in the EXACT SAME PLACE she has been for 43 years? Nobody who has any business contacting me has any trouble finding me.

So who are you and what hit you in the head? Or were you the kid with the runny nose in the special room at the end of the hall? Or did you flunk out of the local junior college, only to find that this life was the best you could do? Inquiring minds want to know, doncha know.