Stalkerific.

One of my favorite dumpy guy friends has been following avidly and wants to be blogged about. While he is extremely funny (witty, ironic and acerbic-my kind of humor), there hasn't been any recent incidences in his life that have inspired me to write. Until this weekend. I'm going to refer to him as DJ Slumpbuster.

I think I will explain his pseudonym before getting into what went down on Friday night. Every summer, a bunch of us get wild for a weekend in Block Island on Deadweight Dump's parents' 48 ft sea ray. DJ SB took on the role of deejay on the boat ride over and he succeeded in amping us all up for a stellar weekend. MJ, The Roots, Marley, Kanye, Stevie Wonder. Got all of us shakin our tailfeathers between swigs of BL smoothies.

Most of the dumps at Springhouse, BI '09

Now on to the second half of his name. DJ SB was in a 3 year relationship that came to a sad screeching hault shortly after they moved in together. Poor guy has to move back in with his rents, whom he refers to as "the roommates." After many nights of masturbation and no lady love, he gets lucky a few months post break-up. With a college porker he referred to as his slumpbuster. No exchange of numbers. Just pure, unadulterated casual sex. Way to go, girl.

Alas, this brings me to Friday night. Kitty-Cat and I stayed in to prepare for Saturday's festivities while the boys opted to go out and creep. They followed a group of girls from one bar to the next, dancing and engaging in friendly banter. The night ends, girls and boys go their separate ways. Fast forward to Monday afternoon. DJ SB is on spring break from law school in South Carolina and he receives a phone call from his grandmother. Sidenote: He is a third, and both his father and grandfather live in the same town as he does. So grandma says that some mail has come to the house and she thinks it might be for him. Should she open it and read it to him? Suurrrree. Here is what it read, verbatim.

"Dear DJ Slumpbuster,

This is one of the strangest thing I've done, but I hope you are flattered and not freaked out. My friends and I met you and your friends on Friday night in Newport. We went to use the bathroom and then you guys were gone. I wanted to give you my number _______. Give me a call if you want. If not, this will make for a good story to tell your friends.

Sasha Fierce"

No return address. Wow. Sasha Fierce took stalking to a whole new level. Has she not been introduced to the wonderful world of facebook where stalking is encouraged?! Who sends snail mail anymore? And when was the last time you opened a telephone book?? All she knew about DJ SB was his name and the town he lived in. What... a freakshow. You might want to change the name of your alter ego, B.