Friday, August 6, 2010

Now Hiring

I need a stalker.

Not necessarily the "call my mom with a fake pregnancy story" type or the "here's a necklace with a vile of my blood so you'll always have a piece of me" brood either. Just a normal, everyday, quasi-sane (and, yes, possibly homicidal) stalker.

Go 'head, poke through my recycling bin. A voodoo doll made with my actual toenail clippings is weird, but I applaud the effort. Slept in your car with binoculars and a 'sixer of Steel Reserve tall-boys? I have a keen appreciation for that type of stick-to-it-iveness. Bravo!

Not too much to ask for, right?

And it isn't that I need someone to lavish that type of subversive attention on me (though it would be nice to feel wanted). I think having a stalker would add some much needed zest to an otherwise fairly pedestrian existence.

I go to work. I eat a lunchmeat sandwich and a pudding. I work out. I go home.

I'm just saying, a little excitement wouldn't hurt. Maybe waking up naked from a GHB-induced slumber in a wooden box in Tijuana is a BIT much, but a Hallmark card with the phrase "Obsession isn't just a perfume" and a lock of hair would certainly add some intrigue.

The way I see it, there are some upsides to having a stalker.

· You never really feel alone
· It's easy to get rid of a bad date when your stalker chases them off with a gas powered weed-eater
· The America judicial system is fascinating and restraining orders are sooooooo much the "it" accessory in Paris this year
· Seriously, how often have you heard of a stalker story ending badly? Seriously.
· There's always someone there to listen to you (albeit via illegal wire taps)
· Everyday is like playing "Hide and Seek" (except you are always "it")
· Constantly looking over your shoulder increases flexibility in your neck

Who among us hasn't wished for their very own nut-cake, strung out on a clean concoction of equal parts God complex, self loathing, and OCD? All the cool celebrities have them. Conan O'Brien? Check. Debbie Gibson? You bet! David Caruso? Yeah, him, too!
If it's good enough for Paris Hilton….well, ok. Bad example. Should have thought that one through a bit more thoroughly.

Sure, there's a better than decent chance that one day you'll come home to find your cat shaved and all of your underwear on the front lawn. But that's part of the charm, now, isn't it? Don't be too surprised when you walk outside only to find Mayonnaise on your car windows, your garden gnome violated, and your mailbox sullied in ways that defy both the laws of gravity and good taste. This is what you signed up for, Chuckles.

So. I will be accepting applications for my personal "covert observer". Please include a current resume or CV, pay history, and psychological/media history. Include any and all experience with surveillance, cat shaving, window accessorizing/demolition, voodoo doll manufacturing (with or without toenail clippings), cult membership, arrest records, and weapons certifications.

I will review all applications and contact qualified parties for initial interviews as soon as possible. I'm looking to fill this position soon, so please do not procrastinate. Punctuality is a very important quality for a professional window watcher.

A heaping-helping of the crazy doesn't hurt either.

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