I’m no rocket scientist, but like my girl Lisa, I’m a stalker. Shucks, I even wrote a book about it: "Crazy is as crazy does--a stalker's guide to catching and keeping your man (cause you really don't want him to go no where)".
People always ask me what I’m doing in Minnesota. I’m a country girl who loves southern living, southern food and southern people. But I abandoned my family and career to move up north where there are no black people, well, except Prince and Kevin Garnett (and they are about to trade him) to be with Shawn.
He was trying to get away from me when he moved up here a few years ago from Texas without letting me know. I went to his apartment one day and the curtains were gone and there was a “For Rent” sign on the door. When I finally found him, he was in the Boyfriend Witness Protection Program. That negro was living in Saint Paul, pretending to be a Somalian refugee driving a cab; and he’s got a medical school degree. He thought he was gonna shake me… honey please, I have been stalking since I was 12 years old. I’ve scaled the outside of a four story apartment building in heels. Swam through alligator infested swamps and hid in the trunk of a car for two days… so finding a man 2-thousand miles away is a piece of cake.
I never thought about it before, but I could get rich doing this. If the government ever really wants to find Osama Bin Laden, they need to call me. I won’t need all that fancy military equipment; oh no honey, wouldn’t even need any troops. Give me 20 hours, hell, give me 10 hours, two crazy girlfriends, a pair of hiking boots and some bushes to hide in. He’s as good as captured. Cause ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no valley low enough and ain’t no river wide enough to keep a true stalker from getting to a man.
Just ask my husband, the Texas Somalian refugee cab driver with the medical school degree, he can vouch for me!
