I’m an avid listener of WGN Radio 720 am. I absolutely love the mid-day host, John Williams, and he is the one who truly got me interested in listening to talk radio at the age of 28. One of John Williams’ segments is titled “My Sign of the Apocalypse.” He has listeners call in to divulge their possible “end of the world” experiences, which usually range from silly to funny occurrences in every day life.
I experienced my own sign of the Apocalypse yesterday when I was at Dunkin Donuts getting my coffee. My end of the world revelation came to light when it became obvious to me that my stalker has become the stalkee.
I know you’re thinking WTF is she talking about? In fact, as I write I am thinking that myself.
So, maybe I was over reacting a bit? I do that sometimes. Maybe he’s just an innocent guy who likes to talk to people and doesn’t have much else to do? But, it’s always good to check. You don’t want to be thinking that when you’re stuck in the back of a trunk wondering if you will be raped and murdered.
I would always say hello but kept our conversations to a minimum. I told my friends about “my stalker” and it almost became a joke….”Yes, I have a stalker …” I was proud to say as if I was a celebrity going out for coffee and getting snapped by the paparazzi.
THEN – complete random craziness – my friend K-Woww discovered that MY STALKER LIVES IN THE SAME COMPLEX AS HER BOYFRIEND. WTF? I’m not making this shit up. She figured this out when one day she parked next to an old school wood-paneled shaggin-wagon in the complex. With “The Club” on the steering wheel. She thought how many of these cars actually exist?
She then told her man about it – “Could Jen’s stalker actually LIVE here?” And an even crazier side note – turns out K-Woww’s man accidentally hit one of my stalker’s cars – he has two – which the two did settle amicably. Seriously.
K-Woww’s man thought it was crazy that he knows my stalker! And now K-Woww was intrigued by my stalker. They named him Earl. We don’t refer to my stalker as “my stalker” anymore, he now has a name. Earl.
I see Earl at Dunkin every day and K-Woww sees Earl at home every night. We talk about Earl. We feel like we sort of “know” Earl. We chuckle about things, like “The Club,” saying “Oh, that’s SO Earl!” Every morning when I get out of the car I almost shout, “Good morning, Earl!” before I realize that his name is not actually Earl. Or is it?
This has got to stop. This is insane. Could you imagine if I said “Good morning Earl!” Who would be the crazy one now?
As I’m driving to Dunkin/work one day last week I hit a pot hole in Lisle. My tire was flat. I had to wait for Roadside Assistance to come change my tire and my poor body was having caffeine withdrawal. When I finally made it to Dunkin Earl was gone.
The next day when I pulled in the Dunkin parking lot there sat Earl. His window down, his shades on. I get out of the car.
“Ah man, you got a flat tire?” He stuttered.
“Yeah, I did. That’s why I wasn’t here yesterday. I got it on my way here,” I answered.
“Oh man, that really stinks. How did you get it?” He asked.
“I hit a pot hole on Ogden Ave.,” I said.
“Oh man, do you have the tire? I can take a look at it for you and see if it can be fixed.”
WOW. Who knew Earl was such a compassionate guy?
“My husband has it,” I responded, “But, thank you. He’s going to try to blow it back up today and see if we can fix it.”
Earl nodded. “Oh, OK then. Well, be careful OK.”
I laughed. “OK.”
“Seriously, OK? You don’t want to get another flat while you’re driving with that.” He pointed to my sad “doughnut” spare tire.
“Thank you –“ almost actually came out “Thank you, Earl” but thankfully I stopped myself.
As I walked into Dunkin I couldn’t help but think for a minute. Wow. Nowadays there are no nice people left in the world. People aren’t friendly. They don’t say hello or smile at one another. No one would offer to look at someone’s flat tire? I felt so special. I felt like my stalker actually cared. I drove away thinking that Earl cared more about my tire fiasco then some of my friends did! I mean, I am pregs folks, I could have been murdered on the side of the road waiting for Roadside Assistance!
(OK, OK, maybe a little dramatic. Yes, it was 8 a.m. In DuPage County. But, seriously, what if my water broke?)
Ironically that morning K-Woww saw Earl at Dunkin within seconds of me leaving. We shared some texts back and forth about him. Hmmm….me and K-Woww texting about my stalker? Funny, I don’t picture my stalker texting about me at all? He never did pick up my dropped DKNY panties if you recall from “Someone’s Got a Case of the Monday’s.” WTF, isn’t he supposed to have a shrine of me in his shaggin-wagon?
The next two days were like Groundhog Day. Tire still not fixed –> Earl asks me about tire –> I give him the update, one day we had to try a sealant, the next day we determined it wasn’t fixable and had to order a new tire –> Earl tells me to be careful, drive safe saying, “You don’t want to get another flat!” –> I say thank you and continue to be intrigued by how concerned Earl is.
Do you see where this is going?
Then yesterday, I pull into the parking lot. There sits Earl. He is in his other car, the green SUV with a Blackhawks decal in the back window. He also has a Sox decal, but I don’t judge him for that because he is a Cubs fan, too. Normally I give those people grief (pick ONE!), but I let it slide with Earl. That’s just the type of guy he is. He likes everyone! His window is down. His shades are on. I park next to him and grab my Juicy Couture purse as I get out of the car.
“Morning!” I say with a big smile.
“Uh-good morning. I see you got that tire fixed.”
OMG, he is so perceptive!
I nod. “Yes, my husband fixed it last night.”
“Well, that’s great! Now hopefully you don’t get another one for a while.”
“I know, right? Well…thanks…” I say as I start to walk to the door.
As I’m waiting for my iced coffee I decide that today is the day I will ask Earl his real name. I see him every day. He’s a nice enough guy. He seems legit. Why should I be calling him Earl? I should know his name. But then I start to question whether or not that is weird. I know another gentleman’s name that I see in Dunkin on a daily basis…..so I’m doing it!
I walk back to my car with my iced coffee in hand. “Well, have a great day,” I yell through the window.
“Uh, thanks, uh, you too.”
“By the way, what’s your name?”
“Uh, my name? Uh, yeah, my name is Todd. T-O-double D. Todd.”
“OK, Todd, well, nice to meet you. My name is Jen. J-E-N.”
“OK Jen,” he gives a wave.
I get in the car, wave back and drive off. So my stalkers name is Todd.
I pull into my work parking lot and have a text from K-Woww. It reads: OMG, at DD and just saw Earl in the green SUV! Want to say hi.
I text back: OMG, jus left DD and pulled into wk. Jus miss u again. Asked Earl his name. It’s Todd.
K-Woww: LOL, I asked his name yest. when I saw him while walking the dog. He seemed scared of the dog so I talk 2 him 4 a min.
I smiled. And this is when it occurred to me. My sign of the Apocalypse. Holy shit. My stalker has become my stalkee. I have become obsessed with my stalker. Even K-Woww and her man are obsessed with my stalker.
How twisted is this shit? What kind of Lifetime Original Movie would this be?
I guess, in closing, it’s been determined that I no longer have a stalker. I AM the stalker.