...but it would be more a victim precipitated stalking.
It is all my fault. When I get bored, which happens pretty frequently, I start poking around the internet and partially sign up for crap.
A few months ago, I looked into a program for the Biggest Loser put together by Jillian, the rather cranky trainer on the show. I decided to decline for several reasons, the largest of which meant I'd have to actually get off my butt and do something, which seriously would cut into my precious little available goofing off time.
This handy diagram shows just how little time I would have to, you know, exercise and do healthy stuff
Other Blue: Nap
Orange: Watch TV
Green: All Things Blogging
Red: Google Search for Weird Pictures
It is clear that no free time is available. *sigh*
So, I stopped the whole thing, and Jillian has been sending me notes ever since. And I can assure you they are mean. I'm even a bit afraid of her. It's bad enough when I get yelled at by the Crotchety Old Lady, but getting cyber yelled at by Jillian makes me afraid to open my emails.
Besides, I'm in shape. Round is a shape, right?
And now, I'm getting stalked by Netflix. I broke up with Netflix 2 months or so ago. I gave them the "It's not you, it's me, speech," and I really thought they had moved on. But no, every couple weeks, they send me a little note telling me how much they miss me and want me back.
Lastly, I continue to get notes from various internet dating sites letting me know that Monica, or Debbie, or some other old classmate is searching for me. I'm sure most men would be quite excited by such news, but regular readers know that I attended St Rocko's High School (School Motto: We have our own cemetery) which was a high school for males only.
Do I want to open those emails?