Who wouldn't crap their pants if they got a random text at 12:09am from a number you don't know that said "I'm alone too". I meant crap my pants proverbially of course, I haven't crapped my pants since I was...well...nevermind. My point is, it was creepy and I was kinda scared. I texted Mr. Anderson [I presume] to figure out what I should do and he came to the conclusion much faster than me that the whole situation was "beee essss" and it was probably some goober friends of mine bored out of their minds pranking me.
...have I ever mentioned how I have the bestest friends in the whole world?
Anyhoo, this is how the convo went (kinda...Im too lazy to post everything and I've taken some liberties in recalling the exact text)
Me: who is this?
Random dude/dudette: I met you at [insert local bar here] and you gave me your business card
Me: I've never been to [insert local bar here] so whoever it was who gave you my card, it wasn't me.
R.d/d: What are you doing for halloween? Honestly we should get together
Me: send me a pic or something so I know who you are
R.d/d: Im too shy
Me: Bullshit! You're a creepy weirdo who's out to stalk me and I am warning you I'll punch you in the eye if you come anywhere near me! (<--ok so I didn't really say that...but I would have if I wasn't so scared they'd actually stalk me...what I really said was-->) Well, I don't know who this is and I really don't remember handing my card out to you.
R.d/d: I'm off on Friday, we should have lunch
Me: I appreciate the offer but no, since I don't remember you I think this is all a joke or someone pranking me.
R.d/d: no reply.
So I don't know...hopefully that's the end of it. But interestingly enough Le BLT texted me goodnight about 5 minutes after I sent out that last text. Hmmm....as Mr. Anderson said "fiiishy". I hear ya Mr. Anderson...super super fishy!
Just in case Random dude/dudette is reading this and is planning on stalking me can I just say that I am constantly followed by a 6'4 african american former linebacker named "Grid Iron Gary" who will tackle you into the ground and pound you into a bloody paste should you so much as breathe at me wrong.
And if you are reading this and are 6'4 and african american and looks as if he could have played football at one point or another in his life and don't mind being called "Grid Iron Gary"...please give me a call or send me an email. I may have an exciting job offer for you!