Dear Creepy F*ing Stalker Dude

I am pissed off and feel like cussing…a lot…so if you are offended by the word fuck…fuck off.  That having been said, we can proceed.  Last night I went out with friends.  I sang a little karaoke, played a little pool, danced a little dance, and had a good time.  When I woke and went to let puppy out this morning, I see that the bottom of my door has been kicked in completely.

Are you fucking kidding me?  This is the inside view of my laundry room door. 

The sad part is this is the 4^th or 5^th time in the past couple months I’ve had to have the police come out and do reports. The neighbors probably think I’m under investigation for something sinister or am some gangster as much as the cops have been at my house lately. Seems I’ve got some creepy stalker type fucker throwing tantrums whenever I go out or have a guy over.  News flash Creepy Fucking Stalker Dude:  I’m a grown ass single woman and I will both go out and occasionally get laid.  Get over it and go the fuck away!

I have no idea who this destructive nuisance is, nor do I have any idea why he’s being such a pain in my ass, only that he likes to creep around my house in the middle of the night as reported by neighbors, and that he likes to tear my shit up when I am not home for him to perv on.  It’s like he’s leaving a note, “I was here…you were not…BAM!!!”  He’s not trying to break in or burglarize the house, because breaking a glass panel, unlocking the door and walking in would take a lot less effort than to break the wood of the door, and would probably be a lot easier on his feet (I hope he at least broke his big toe when he broke my door and I hope it HURTS LIKE HELL…just saying). 

I guess maybe I should be a little scared, but instead I’m pissed the fuck off.  I mean, money doesn’t grow on trees and doors are expensive.  I’m a single mom and don’t like having to spend my hard earned money on shit that someone else has fucked up.  If he wants me to know he was there and I wasn’t, I could think of a few other ways he could let me know which I’d find much more appealing.  1) Pin, tape, nail or even screw a $100 bill to the door.  I’d come home, say “Wow, that’s really strange, and why did he have to use a screw.  What a pain in the ass!  But what the hell, thanks for the new pair of shoes.” 2) Leave a note.  “Dear Blondie:  I was here you were not.  I felt like breaking your shit, but instead thought to leave you this letter.  Sincerely, Creepy Fucking Stalker Dude.”  I’d think to myself, “To fucking bad.  Go crawl under a rock in a thundershower and drown! But thank you for not breaking my shit.” 3) Leave flowers.  I’d come home and feel a warm fuzzy feeling and instead of thinking “Creepy Fucking Stalker Dude’s at it again”, I’d think I had a romantic secret admirer.

See how one little thing can change a whole perspective?  Break a door = Creepy Fucking Stalker Dude…leave flowers = Romanic Secret Admirer.  What’s the great part of this analogy for him you ask?  He could still peep in my windows no matter what I call him, so WHY THE FUCK DO YOU NEED TO BREAK MY SHIT?!  URRRGGGG!!!!

All ranting aside, and on a serious note I’m thinking of writing Creepy Fucking Stalker Dude a letter of my own and posting it to my doors.  I think it should read as follows:  “Dear Creepy Fucking Stalker Dude:  When you were slithering around my house perving through the windows like a kid at a candy shop , though annoyed, I resisted the urge to set bear traps under the windows and let you keep your feet (you’re welcome).   When you came IN my house, I resisted the urge to track you down like a man eating lion that must be found and put down, and instead focused on being more diligent in securing my home.  You have now graduated to being destructive and weakening the security and integrity of my home and the home of my children.  This is no longer considered a nuisance by me, but a threat.  Luckily, as an American, I have the 2^nd amendment right to keep and bear arms.  I also have a constitutional right to defend my person, family and property, even by lethal force where necessary.   I personally would not lose a seconds sleep should I have to shoot you and do not doubt me when I say I WILL shoot you (not just point a gun at you and ask you nicely to leave)!  Save yourself the trouble of dying, your family the trouble of making funeral arrangements for you, and me the trouble of getting your blood out of my carpet.  I am asking you nicely now to save everyone a lot of trouble and fuck off.  Sincerely, Blondie”