|Why did I think this would be a good idea?|
Facebook creeping meets Facebook cruelty. That stings.
Now. I know I have Facebook haters. Someone said, "If you don't have haters, you're doing it wrong." Check and double check on that one. Do I have Facebook creepers? Possibly. But they know I'm too wrapped up in myself to notice them unless they get vocal. So they have to give up the very thing that defines creeper-hood. They're pretty conflicted overall, my creepers. (It's like that commercial where the girl calls up her boyfriend to tell him that she's giving him the silent treatment. I think that is brilliant. ) Anyway, creepers, I haz them, and like all good victims, of course I deserve them. I brought it on myself. "God, Klonnie, what do you expect when you're so crazy in your online persona? No wonder some Nutjobs concoct wild fantasies about you. You should have expected this."
Again. About the creeper. Delusions of grandeur beat an inferiority complex every time. And vice versa. This leads to a lot of confusion for me and my many moods. So I could have a creeper. I'm awesome like that. On the other hand, I couldn't possibly have a creeper because I suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. No wonder no one comes to this restaurant, you can never get a table. And such small portions.
That, my friends, is what you will see if you look up "rapid cycling bipolar Nutjob" in an Abnormal Psychology textbook. Doubtless across the page from "sociopathic obsessive-compulsive with an Oedipus complex." Yeah, our photos perfectly aligned.
So that we kiss when you shut the book.