I know, I know. I keep moving. But it seems the stalker has become the stalked, and as such, relocation is necessary. So, if you're a reader (if your name is Emma, anyway) you will have by now received my new address. If you're just some guy's girlfriend who reads my blog for ammunition to fire at me via email, then fuck off and die.
Regular readers and stalkers will probably know of my recent altercations with some girl whose existence I was blissfully unaware of until about two weeks ago, when she blasted into my life with a barrage of emails (fourteen in one day, no less) full of quotes from my Twitter and blog. And you guys think I'm the stalker?! Yeah, I thought I was too...
Anyway, things were getting along cordially (as cordially as possible anyway, when you're charged with the heinous crime of thinking a guy you saw in the gym is good-looking) until this morning when I was told that "because you're a paralympic, you're a retard, and below our standards" (that's been para-phrased, but the term "a paralympic" was definitely thrown around, by someone who claimed to know "all about it". Now, I'm no expert on the Paralympics, but I definitely know that "a paralympic" is in no way any sort of slang for "person with a disability" or even "retard". Did you guys also know that "retard" is a completely acceptable term for someone with a disability? Hmm.
Now, firstly I must apologise to the person in question for my assumption that I am still a normal member of society despite having had a stroke. MY BAD! Turns out, when you have a stroke, you go down a level of social caste. What, you thought social castes were outdated? My, my. You are wrong. Not only did social castes almost prevent Donny's cousin from marrying another Punjabi friend's cousin, they have made 20-year-old Malaysian bodybuilders with dragon tattoos OUT OF MY LEAGUE. Dear, oh dear. How dare I? Think that my having a stroke DOESN'T remove me from the greater gene pool altogether. Even better, what was I thinking having a stroke, knowing this was to be my fate? Because it was certainly my choice. I purposefully acquired a disability to alienate myself further from the world. That's how you have to roll (excuse the pun, I just found out all people with disabilities don't use wheelchairs. Mindblowing) when you're desperate for love and attention. Which is again, the case with me.
Guess it's a good thing I started looking at kittens on TradeMe, right? It's going to be a long, long road of loneliness and being retarded until I meet my death. But until then, should you like to continue reading my blog, please email me at mimartiste@gmail.com for the new address. Unless you're that person in question. Because your obviously very well thought-out emails have been directed to my Spam folder. Sorry about that. I hope you don't find that disrespectful.
