My fan, my stalker.

Chris, a work buddy, told me about this cat litter that he liked, and that was easy to clean up. Being that I despise cleaning the litter box, I decided to try the pine litter for my cats.

Bad idea.

Cats are very picky about EVERYTHING. So, I gradually decreased the old litter and added the new litter. When I came home from work on Tuesday, the first day of all pine litter, I came home to find that my cats expressed their disapproval of the new litter by pissing and shitting all over my kitchen floor.

Assholes.

So, my sister Jackie and I went to the pet store to get my trusty Fresh Step, and curse myself for thinking cleaning up after those fuckers could be so easy. I saw a guy staring at the litter, confused. He had a cart that had a carrier, a litter box, a feeding dish, and toys in it.

He was also listening to an Ipod, and I could hear him singing along to Damien Rice. I don’t know about you, but Damien Rice puts me in the putting out mood.

He was good looking, in a nerdy, over-educated kind of way (which is ALL GOOD for this girl). I was totally attracted to him.

Then I went into dork mode. I started imagining all the wonderfully intelligent things he would tell me, stimulating my mind and body at the same time. How he looked underneath those cargo shorts and that Interpol t-shirt, and I completely zoned out. I wasn’t staring at him, I was sort of staring off into space, in my little nerd-love fantasy.

“Excuse me.”

Still fantasizing.

”Um, miss, excuse me?”

Still fantasizing.

“Which one of these do you think is the best?”

Jackie kicked me, and I realized hot nerdy guy was talking to me.

“Which litter is the best?”

“Oh, uh… I like this one. It doesn’t smell and the clumps don’t break when you clean the box.” Fuck. Was I really talking about shit clumps to this guy?

“I have never had a cat before, so I have no idea.”

“Oh, I have two, and they’re indoor, so I know all about litter. And everything else.” Oh, and I am completely retarded.

Shit, I have no game. NONE.

“I noticed you were listening to Damien Rice. I love him. His music is… I don’t even know how to describe it. It just moves me.” God, I suck at this.

“I think he’s brilliant. I saw him at the Wiltern about a year and a half ago, and it was awesome.”

“I was there, too! It was one of the best shows I’ve seen. I just can’t say enough how much I love his music. I listen to O incessantly. I can’t wait for his new album.”

Ok, so here I am, talking to this guy, and the knots in my stomach start to go away, and I am feeling relaxed. Then we started talking about Interpol, since he was wearing an Interpol shirt. This whole awesome music discussion happened, and I realized my brainy fantasies were right. He was intelligent, and funny, and I couldn’t believe I was talking to this guy so casually. I didn’t even dork out and flip my hair like I usually do.

He complimented my taste in music ( I left out the Wham and Debbie Gibson selections), and told me I was really funny.

Then, in what can only be the story of my fucking life, he said, “Well, I better get going. My girlfriend is bringing the kitten home, so I want to have all this ready for her. Thanks for your help. It was cool talking to you.”

Sigh.

“Good job, dumbass. You really scored on that one.” God, my sister is such a little bitch. That’s why I love her so.

“Fuck you. Let’s go get the litter so I can go home and slit my wrists.”

---

After we got back from the litter debacle, I watched Some Kind of Wonderful for the eleventy billionth time.

I told Jackie to stay and watch it with me, and that she would love it.

After it was over, she said she didn't see what the big deal was. And it made me think... her generation doesn't really have movies that they related to and identify with, like mine did with all the John Hughes movies of the 80's.

Twenty years later, I still love those movies, and watch them repeatedly. But then again, I am a dork, so maybe I am the only one.

But it made me a little bit sad that she didn't love the movie like I did.

But then again, she is 12 years younger than me, and her high-school movies that she loved were shitty movies like "She's All That" and "Drive Me Crazy."

Jesus, I hope in 20 years she is not still watching that shit.

---

Later that night, I had one of my more bizarre chats (and that’s really saying something). I got an IM on yahoo from someone who had a screen name that was exactly the same as one of my aol screen names.

At first I thought it was just a really weird coincidence, and then I realized I was talking to My Fan.

SickOfSublime: hello
AndriaL24: omg
SickOfSublime: what
AndriaL24: uh, that is my aol screen name…
SickOfSublime: I know
AndriaL24: You know? How do you know? Have we chatted before?
SickOfSublime: no
AndriaL24: Then how the fuck do you know? Do you know me?
SickOfSublime: kinda
AndriaL24: Kind of how?
SickOfSublime: not telling
AndriaL24: I don’t have time for this shit. Later.
SickOfSublime: you cuss a lot for a girl
SickOfSublime: I read your dairy
AndriaL24: Oh… well who are you? Have you commented? Do you have a diary?
SickOfSublime: no. dairies are dumb.
AndriaL24: Uh…Then why do you read it?
SickOfSublime: because you act slutty and its funny tome.
AndriaL24: Slutty, or like a HOAR???? Are you My Fan?!?
SickOfSublime: im not a fan.
AndriaL24: Oh, but you are. You read my diary every day, send me e-mails once a week, and now you’re instant messaging me. You <3 me. You can admit it. : )
SickOfSublime: no way
AndriaL24: Then go away and stop reading my diary. It seems pretty easy to me.
SickOfSublime: youre pretty
AndriaL24: I know! Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.
SickOfSublime: Where do you live?
AndriaL24: Well, you pore over my diary every day like a psycho. You should know that by now.
SickOfSublime: Tell me.
AndriaL24: Figure it out, dumbass. I mention where I live in every other entry it seems like. You should know this. You’re My Fan!
AndriaL24: Ok. I live in a mud hut in Zimbabwe. We don’t have running water or electricity, but it’s home.
SickOfSublime: what
AndriaL24: Ok, ok. You got me there. We have electricity. Obviously, or we wouldn’t be having this awesome chat!
SickOfSublime: you don’t really live there
AndriaL24: So how come you never leave a comment in the comment section?? You seem to love that part of my diary the most. Well, except for the part where I am a hoar, of course. Did you read the entry about Saturday? I really hoared it up!! Now you have something to rightfully accuse me of.
SickOfSublime: Tell me where you live.
AndriaL24: I told you.
SickOfSublime: tell me
AndriaL24: No can do, crazy.
SickOfSublime: im not crazy
AndriaL24: No, of course you’re not. You’re perfectly sane. I mean, you send me emails calling me a whore all the time, you took one of my screen names and created one exactly like it for yahoo, and keep insisting I tell you where I live. You’re ALL KINDS OF SANE. From now on, leave a comment on my diary. Don’t email me like a little sissy boy. Wait – are you even a guy? I have no clue.
SickOfSublime: I am not telling. Do youlive in Cali? Youre pretty.
AndriaL24: I told you. Zimbabwe. I am going to bed now. Don’t email me.
SickOfSublime: I don’t leave comment. I don’t want people to now me.
AndriaL24: Hey, stupid, I have already posted your email address in my diary. I’ll probably post this chat, too.
AndriaL24: Hey, before we talk again, can you do one thing for me? Please?
SickOfSublime: yes what
AndriaL24: LEARN TO FUCKING SPELL.

---

I have decided I need to start taking more pictures. Pictures of what, I am not yet sure. But I need to use my camera more.

Photographic diary drivel to come.