Sunday, May 2, 2010

Cowboy Josh and my stalkerish tendencies

Hmmm... I could be a stalker. I think that I have what it takes to really disturb the pants off someone by finding out everything about him before I've even met him.

I'd try to play it cool our first meeting, cautioning myself, "Okay, Virginia, don't let on that you know where he lives, what he majored at in college, what his food allergies are, and what he wears to bed."

But, then I'd eventually slip up, saying something like, "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that you hate M&Ms in your popcorn."

And, then he'd get a funny look on his face and I'd be able to see his thoughts as clearly as if they were scrolling across his forhead, "How does she know that?"

"I think you told me that earlier," I'd giggle nervously.

Yeah, right, I followed you to the movies the day before, sitting two rows behind you, following you every move. Like a grown up Harriet the Spy focused solely on you.

I say this because I've recently become addicted to The Pioneer Woman's blog. I've consumed the archives over the last few weeks, forsaking all other activities.

Homework. . . blecch, I was getting tired of doing it anyway.

Housework. . . who cares, I live alone.

Laundry. . .insideout underwear works just fine. And it's not like anyone will be getting his nose too close to my crotch. except for dogs. and they nose everyone's crotches, no matter what a person's laundry habits are. and if a dog does nose my crotch excessively, I can always make up some story about owning a cat.

Also, because of the long hours in front of the computer inhaling her blog, I think my LASIK has been totally reversed.

It's all been worth it.

Her blog is that good.

Anywho, the Pioneer Woman writes all about her life on the ranch in Oklahoma. Her husband, Marlboro Man, her four kids, her pesky bro-in-law, her retarded (her words, not mine) brother Mike (literally retarded), and the ranch cowboys are all included in her vignettes of country life.

Sigh. The cowboys. Cowboy Josh, in particular. Double sigh.

Single Cowboy Josh. . . hardworking Cowboy Josh. . . helpful Cowboy Josh. . . kind Cowboy Josh... playful Cowboy Josh. . . horse ridin' Cowboy Josh. . . chaps wearin' Cowboy Josh. . . cutie pie Cowboy Josh. . . Did I mention SINGLE Cowboy Josh?

And, it seems like a billiondy other people read that blog and half of them also just luv Cowboy Josh, too. and, of the half that just luv Cowboy Josh, at least half of those are single. and, of those half that are single, probably all of them are prettier, skinnier, go-gettin'er than I am.* they would never dream of not doing laundry. they are probably passionate about something other than reading (sometimes trashy) romance novels. they probably know what they want to do with their life. they probably have actually dated before. they probably roll out of bed earlier than I do and actually do devotions every day and actually work up a sweat when they exercise.

*statistics based on mood/pity party rather than actual research.

Cowboy Josh, I could stalk you. I could.

But I won't.

Because when we do meet and you are surrounded by your bevy of admirers, at least I'll be able to say I never stalked you-- I'll have one thing going for me in the bid for your heart.

does googling his name count as stalking?

aw, shucks.

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