Tonight I decided to see if anyone actually reads my blog. Suprisingly there are ppl whos lives are so unfulfilled that they are visiting me. I hope I do you proud in filling in your day with the warm fuzzies on my stories of mishaps and adventures. Im going to give myself a super-secret blogger name. Something cool like the Masked-Typonese Blog Bandit. Or something.
As I was going through all of the 39 clicks (careful ppl, dont spoil me now) I've had on my page today I realized that most of my clicks have come from the same place. I froze. I must have a stalker. Oh no. Have I included to much of my personal life that they might be able to come and find me and steal me away from all these mounds of dirty laundry, dirty fridge shelves and spilling over garbage cans? Dont take me I say. I want to live here in the glory of my home in all its filthiness. What makes you think I would want to run away with you Justin Timberlake(in my mind my stalker is J.T. okay, its my brain i can do what i want) . Your to young for me. Really, please stop kissing my feet. Its embarrasing. For you. I think I kinda like it. Here you missed a toe.
As I was clicking between my blog and my click-counter thingy, my click stats starting going up. Oh no. Justin Timberlake is stalking me RIGHT NOW! Maybe he's on a wireless network laptop and is sitting outside of my house right now. Should I go hide under the bed? Oh no, another click! Please someone help! I WANT TO LIVE IN MY DOMESTIC HAVEN! And then, it hit me. I am my own stalker. Yes folks, those clicks on my counter page were my own. Justin Timberlake is in fact, NOT stalking me. I'm not disappointed not one bit. "sniffle". Nope.
Okay who am I kidding. Its like finding out you are your own Grandpa or something. Gosh is it so hard for God to let Justin Timberlake stalk me???