Stalk me, beat me, any way you want me.

A mysterious guest book signer piqued my interest in such a way that I just had to update this miserable pile of Diaryland doodie.

So who is this mysterious "Te he" Whose only entry in my guest book was my full name?

Is it a secret admirer? A stalker? A total wuss who too spongy and spineless to leave a homepage or email Addy? And why "Te he"? The name "Te he" seems to be intended as a thinly veiled taunt of some sort, kind of saying "hey fucker, I know who you are, but you will never find out who I am, because apparently I was too busy having sex with a rotting 'possum corpse to leave my name, email address or homepage."

Hmm, whoever it is knows my whole name. Or my first and last name is clearly stated somewhere within this diary and this someone is totally fucking with my stupid ass. Who knows.

Will this "Te he" ever reveal him/herself? Will "te he" come back to read this entry about his or herself and become so enraged about the possum corpse-fucking comment that he/she will track me down, stab me with a variety of semi-sharp objects, and fill my sexy, (although jagged stab wound-covered) body with festering 'possum and squirrel entrails? Is this person outside of my window right now furiously masturbating as I type this entry? Is that a booger on my wall?

These are questions that can be answered by one, and only one person. Yes, you, Te he, whoever the fuck you are.

Reveal yourself! If you are in fact pleasuring yourself outside my window, give me a friendly knock, and I will crack the blinds a little wider so you have a better view of me watching porno and stroking my monumental phallus. Or, if you do in fact have my full name, you probably have my phone number too. Call it, and breathe heavily into the receiver. Then say your name, that you want my body, and you would give anything to be my woman/man/beast-partner or whatever.

All and all, I don�t really give a dried-up shit who this �Te he� character is, I just thought it would all make a witty diary entry. Which I feel it did quite a good job of. Thanks Te he, you weird ass-fucker.

In other news, I FINALLY got a fucking job. That kind of sucks, but in the sucky sort of way where you get paid to put up with the sucking. Ok, more on that stuff later. This entry is for my new stalker.

The latest thing I would never say to one of those punk-rock goddess type hot women, but would think in my head and giggle as she walks past, never to be seen again: �I would burn a pile of cooing babies and fuzzy puppy dogs just to talk to you for five minutes.�

Good night, suckers.