It all began rather innocently. At first I would just google occasionally when I was really stressed and my other displacement activities weren't working for me. Even then it was all very innocent, I just googled famous people, no invasion of privacy there, right? Then before I knew it my hunger for googling became insatiable, I was an animal, I googled anyone. I entered names, email addresses, anything I could get my hands on. Oh, the heedy delight I felt when discovering a succulent bit of hereforto unknown information about an individual! The blood rushing to my head, as my trembling fingers clicked away as I followed lead after lead on my quest of discovery. If only I was a little more computer literate my cyber stalking would have been so much more effective. My dream was to progress my cyber stalking to real life harrassment. Imagine my delight when Rex, Aimless, Zen and Dude Steel opened letters from a far off realm, containing enigmatic and disturbingly non-threatening ramblings penned in Vegemite. All this seemed quite harmless to me until my habit became really disturbing. I began to research the family trees of people that I know in real life. It was terribly exciting knowing about people's children, their parents, their distant, criminally minded relations. Keeping all this exciting information became a difficult burden to bear, and I often found my self wanting to share the information with my victims. The impossibility of such an unburdening has made me realise that it's really quite a perverted little hobby that I have. Now that I've unburdened my soul it's time for you guys to let loose with your dirty little secrets.
-- Anna (solipsistsi✧✧✧@m✧✧.c✧✧), October 25, 2003
Anna, what's a little perversion between friends? It's not like you're following us into the alley to mug us and roll us, or forcing us at gunpoint to sing "I'm a Little Teapot" with appropriate hand motions. (Show me your spout, pipsqueak, or you get it between the eyes!)
It seems to me that I've already spilled enough "dirty little secrets" in this forum to more than satisfy the most ardent proponent of the Equal Humiliation Rule. However, as you insist on further confessions and I have no pride left to protect, one more revelation should hardly matter, especially if it results in prolonging your stay here at Mindless Prattle, where every contributor is valued and every stranger is welcome to our parlor (said the spider... und so weiter).
Now I must rack my brains for something new and novel in the way of confessional impropriety. Every one here is long familiar with my physical cowardice, my lack of control over bodily secretions, my grotesque appetites and unhygenic habits, my moral laxity, my ennervations, hallucinations and trans-species liasons. They even know I write poetry. Bad poetry! What pecadillos have I left unblurted?
I suppose all I have left is my last, most secret shame and I hate to give up that ace in the hole, as it were. But, you wring it from me, Anna. I confess it all to you... I live and work beneath Antonin Scalia's robes!
You have no idea how suffocating that is. The stale ideas, the poisonous opinions, the air of insufferable righteousness and arrogance, the smell of shaving lather and cheap aftershave - these are the very atmosphere I breathe throughout the day.
Don't ask what I do in there. It is too humiliating for words. But, if you watch closely when he's on the bench, you can tell when it is time for my coffee break.
-- Aimless (aimless@national_raffle_association.org), October 26, 2003.
Oh Anna - reading your post was just like looking in a mirror. Well, okay then - technically it was probably more like gazing at my computer monitor BUT ANYWAY..... yes, yes, yes! I am that cyber-stalking girl. Been there, done that, court case comes up next week.
It all starts so innocently, doesn't it? Idle curiosity, employment which scarcely challenges the old grey matter, and a surfeit of time on your hands and before you know it, you (or, in this case, me) start crazily tapping in people's personal details in a mad googling frenzy.
It's all made so much easier if they have unusual names, of course. I'm especially delighted when I can find photographs of the people I'm stalking.
It's not an obsession, though. Just a harmless hobby. Really.
I mean - if these were secrets, they wouldn't be so easy to find on the 'net - would they? *hangs head in shame*
-- C J (CJ_The_Unr✧✧✧@hotm✧✧✧.c✧), October 26, 2003.
Mmmmmm, peccadilloes. Aimless, I'm not sure what's more disturbing, that you write poetry, or that you write it while being submerged in human flesh. Whether your writing occurs while being cradled in the ample bosum of Antonin Scalia as opposed to Michael Moore is really besides the point I imagine. The point is, of course..... that nobody likes bloody catholics. People like Antonin are quite fascinating to me, just like a fatal car crash. He's obviously very intelligent but is so rigid in his thinking he can't see how conformist he is. Interestingly enough he would have made a great communist had he been born on a different continent. But I digress.
C.J., pics are the holy grail to the internet stalker, they're always surprising and people rarely look like you'd imagine them to look. At least you are an equal opportunity stalker(I've seen your pic by the way...I wasn't stalking I promise, it was an accidental find). Not me, I guard my identity fiercely. I'm not sure why, I have no reputation to lose (maybe its because I regularly insult and humiliate family members online). If anyone in my family ever learns to turn on a computer I'll be in trouble. There are a grand total of two references to me on the web, both with my name spelled incorrectly. See I've even started stalking myself. How sad.
-- Anna (solipsistsi✧✧✧@m✧✧.c✧✧), October 26, 2003.
Cyber stalking, c’est moi. I’ve squandered the best years of my life on that squalid, degrading, unending pastime, with consequences painful for myself and others. The only, as it were, vanilla version – the equivalent of a nicotine patch, I suppose – is cyberstalking the dead. May I therefore present my latest creation, the Web’s only links page for the poet T G Hake (1809-95)? You might also enjoy the dazzling glamour, the Michael-Douglas-&-Catherine-Zeta-Jones-ness, of this 1920 wedding photo of the novelist Una Hunt Drage.
-- Rex (r✧✧@waitr✧✧✧.c✧✧), October 28, 2003.
Damn people look at all the words looks like the starting of a book.
-- PCP300mg (aDemonsDeli✧✧✧@we✧✧✧.c✧✧), November 30, 2003.
sir i would you like your softwear.
-- Internet Cyber Club (ki✧✧✧@wl✧✧✧.c✧✧.n✧), December 15, 2003.
you mean my bunny slippers?
-- علاوه ازين (☢@☠.☣), December 17, 2003.
you might also consider cyberstalking the 19 century Urdu poet Sayyid Akbar Hussain aka Akbar Ilahabadi
-- امام زمان (☠@☢.☣), January 04, 2004.
Sindh Secretary for IT, former director of the Bureau of Statistics, Sindh, Mr. Yahya Waliullah
-- Heave Ho (overs✧✧✧@pyramidbuilders✧✧✧.o✧✧), June 29, 2004.
I'm calling Homeland Security.
-- Zen Clown (mar✧✧✧@il✧✧✧.n✧✧), June 29, 2004.
Would that be the Department of Homeland Security, Govt. of Sindh?
-- Heave Ho (overs✧✧✧@pyramidbuilders✧✧✧.o✧✧), June 30, 2004.
-- C J (C J_The_Unr✧✧✧@hotm✧✧✧.c✧✧), July 05, 2004.
Well, we guessed that. Do we get details?
-- weebleman (weeble✧✧✧@hotm✧✧✧.c✧✧), July 05, 2004.
I see that our unruly one has Sind again.
-- Michael White (mwwhit✧✧✧@ya✧✧✧.c✧✧), July 07, 2004.
-- Zen Clown (mar✧✧✧@il✧✧✧.n✧✧), July 07, 2004.
"Physical therapy graduates urged to continue updating their skills"
is just one of the key headlines on the Sindh government website, which I would never have found without this august thread.
I am just struggling slightly with the type of update which might be involved, but no doubt someone will have theories
-- weebleman (weeble✧✧✧@hotm✧✧✧.c✧✧), July 08, 2004.
In Sindh-glish, this means they have to go out with progressively posher women and ply them with sexy PT techniques. It's all part of the government's overall tourist advertising campaign, Simply Sindh-ful .
-- Michael White (mwwhit✧✧✧@ya✧✧✧.c✧✧), July 08, 2004.
peccadilloes? I like them....there kinda like a big rat with armour. But I never seen one here in New Mexico. I hear they got lots of em in Texas. Maybe it's all the radioactivity from the open pit uranium mines and the H-bomb testing they done here. The poor little buggers probably gotta stay underground now.
-- circutrygirl (hairlessratt✧✧✧@hotm✧✧✧.c✧✧), July 13, 2004.
― Heave Ho, Thursday, 13 September 2007 12:08 (eleven years ago) Permalink
not a dream
― Lingbert, Friday, 14 September 2007 21:18 (eleven years ago) Permalink
I still have the stains of this tawdry episode in my life. Thank god I found a new job in real estate.
― Aimless, Wednesday, 4 March 2009 02:05 (nine years ago) Permalink
what the fuck?
― Captain Save-Ahlo (The stickman from the hilarious xkcd comics), Wednesday, 4 March 2009 02:12 (nine years ago) Permalink
yeah this is not a dreamit's a nightmare
― я рилли (harbl), Wednesday, 4 March 2009 02:13 (nine years ago) Permalink
So, theres this guy...and I kindda have four articles of his sweaty gym clothes that I keep in my pillow case to cuddle with at night......
― dumbsocietypigeons (unregistered), Wednesday, 4 March 2009 04:46 (nine years ago) Permalink
omg yorue out of controlsomeone lock this woman up
― yur twit (tehresa), Wednesday, 4 March 2009 04:53 (nine years ago) Permalink