Creepoid FTW!

So, the comments y'all left were 100% in favor of me not being a bitch about this whole Facebook request thing (extra points to those of you who signed comments or e-mails "Love, Greg," which I found HI-larious). I have not yet responded to Stalky McClueless, but I did e-mail my sister with the dilemma. She e-mailed me yesterday with this possible response:

Dear Greg,

Thanks for your persistence. I was waiting to see if you truly wanted to reconnect. Of course I've missed you, oh how I have. I've never stopped thinking about you. When I think of all the nights I lay awake just wondering if you were thinking of me too...

I know what you’re thinking: Why didn't I respond to your first message? Well, of course I just assumed you only wanted to reconnect as casual acquaintances, and I couldn't bear to suffer that pain. Then I got your second message. I know, why not respond then either? Well, I had to carefully weigh whether or not it was worth it to leave my husband and child and this life that I've built for only a slight possibility that you truly had "missed" me. But then I got your third message, and I knew. I knew that you have truly missed me with the same intensity I have you. I mean, we were so close in high school, spending each day together, and hours at night on the phone. And though we kept in touch through college, all those weekend trips back and forth to each others’ schools? Eventually, we drifted apart. Lost contact. And know I could've taken the first step to find you again, but I was afraid to put my heart on the line just to have it stomped on, to find out you had moved on...forgotten about me...

But now I realize this is our chance! I've left a note for my husband, a video tape for my son so that he will always remember me, and I've got my plane ticket. Meet me at our place, you know, that place we spent so much time together during high school. We'll catch up on everything we've missed and start anew, as the duo we once were. I'll be waiting for you. See you soon...

Love,
Falling

She added at the end:

Yeah, there was going to be a line in there about the shower, and how you were there just hoping he would be there with a camera, but every time the dialogue started to sound sexual, it got too icky, even in ubersarcastic private e-mail form. Anyway, I think platonic stalker is even creepier . . Hope I've been helpful.

And this is why I love my sister.


In other news, my pants no longer fit. Seems that the combination of breastfeeding and regularly hoisting a 25-pound baby have worked for me, fitness-wise. And I'm not complaining, Lord knows, but it means that, unless I wear a belt, my pants are constantly sliding down past my hips, thusly rendering me constantly ready for cracktion (my friend E's term: crack + action = cracktion). And I can't help wondering how all those thuggy teens do it. Shit is annoying, yo.