The awkward thing about the internet is that you can feel like you know someone intimately without ever ACTUALLY meeting them. To say that I am a mild cyber stalker may be the understatement of the year. I literally google everyone until my phalanges ache and my eyes are so bloodshot I look like Gary Busey. It’s amongst my top hobbies and I just don’t give a flying fuck who knows it. I am the creepiest bitch of all time, but I prefer to think I am just a curious spirit who utilizes available resources. So sue me.
Amongst my online activity I find myself naturally more “curious” towards ex boyfriends and the bitches I’ve been replaced with. I like to do side by side profile picture slide shows to see how I measure up. I then try to get a feel for interests, education and all those other qualities that I have none of. A few weeks ago I found myself balls deep in stalking the shit out of an ex boyfriends new girlfriend. “We get it bitch you like to hike – how desperate” But on a serious tip – bitches need to limit how often you publicize your fucking workout routines. We get it, your super active and down to earth. Soul Cycle is “SO MAJE” and I am sure your juice cleanse has like TOTALLY rejuvenated your life. Go change your email address to Crazy4Quinoa@gmail.com, get rapey on an acai bowl and just shut the fuck up.
The beauty of internet stalking is the comfort and anonymity that accompanies it. Yesterday I headed to Lulu Lemon to go buy workout clothes to kickstart my new exercise program for the 47th time this year. Non of my initiatives have worked thus far so I thought buying some cute outfits may give me some motivation (or at least it will LOOK like I value my health). I browsed the Vitamin C infused clothing (no joke – wtf?) when a cute blonde girl walked in the store in running shorts and a sportsbra #showoff. I almost passed out. It was Katie – one of my ex boyfriends NEW girlfriend. I made quick eye contact and immediately started wondering if she was as creepy as I am and knew who I was also. I immediately called my boyfriend and started humble bragging as loud as humanly possible in the case she did and could report back to her meathead fucktard of a boyfriend how well I am doing.
“HI HONEY. YES I DID SPEAK TO MY EDITOR TODAY AT COSMOPOLITAN. YOU KNOW THE MAGAZINE NOT THE HOTEL IN VEGAS. CAUSE I WROTE AN ARTICLE FOR THE MAGAZINE. AND MY EDITOR LOVED IT. AND IT’S BEING PUBLISHED. IN COSMO. THE MAGAZINE. PUBLISHED.”
“Babe, I just asked about dinner. Are you drunk?” “YES LOVE ID LOVE TO GO OUT TONIGHT. THE IVY? OUR FAVE SPOT. GOD YOU ARE SO THOUGHTFUL AND ALSO INCREDIBLY HANDSOME AND HAVE SUCH BEAUTIFUL HAIR AND WE ARE SO IN LOVE.” “We never go to The Ivy, are you okay?” #blowingit
After casually following her around the store for a solid 14 minutes hiding behind clothing racks and trying to see if the long hair was real or an astonishing weave I went in for contact. She was looking at a pair of fold down yoga pants (2001 called and wants their Hardtail pants back bitch) and I casually walked right next to her and passive aggressively grabbed the same pair in the size below “Excuse me, I just need to grab a size 2. ” BOOM. She smiled and moved to the side completely unaware. She had no fucking clue who I was. What the FUCK was I doing?
The guy was a total shmuck I wouldn’t touch with a 12 mile pole and I was the one who ended things so why the hell was I following this girl around like a bonafied lunatic? Am I totally insecure? Am I really that bored? Is my head so far up my own ass that I think this is at all relevant or necessary? Am I really a size 2? I left the store sans workout gear and mental stability. Sure what just went down was super weird but it also was internally entertaining and makes for a great gay brunch story so that in itself is the ultimate silver lining.
Some bitches like to soul cycle and power walk, I like to eat without consequences and internet stalk. I hope you read this Katie. And your sister Danielle. And your best friend Tessa. Because yes, I know all of them too….