I pretended you were Jesus you were just dying to save me. I stood beneath your window with my ukelele. I made a yard a playground just in case we had a baby. Now I’m crazy for you but not that crazy.
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Stalker Schmalker, I’d hit it. I’m just sayin.
What’s more deranged… that this guy was stalking Uma Thurman’s (“What did you call it?”) boney ass or that I find him totally fuckable attractive? What can I do… he’s got it all — the glasses, the receding hairline, the nerdy little backpack.
If I were to send him my underwear in prison or something, would that make me a Stalker2?
While the question of his guilt was determined today (as charged!) the burning question on my mind is… do ya’ think he had lube in that bag?
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