My Dear, Dear Stalker

My would-be-stalker has fucked up.
See, if you ever think your email has been hacked, don’t just change the password — change the display name so that when someone receives an email from you, it says it’s from a new name.
Like, let’s say my emails would show up as being received from Smurfette Davies. Well, this morning, when I changed my password, I changed the display name.
Stalker wouldn’t know this.
So, when I got another email supposedly from my account today — but with my OLD display name showing — I had the proof I needed that he hadn’t hacked my account.
But instead went and broke the law. ‘Cause, faking emails is, like, illegal. Doh!
It’s a real shame, too, that I have his IP address and I know what ISP he uses in his wacky little town out there in the Valley. You grow corn, too, pal, like your neighbours? I even know what browser he uses. Konqueror, no? I guess you’d want to use that… since you need Linux to fake emails.
So, you reading me, Stalker?
Stalker fucked up twice. The second time was trying his stupid pony-show email-faking trick a second time more than nine hours after I changed my password and display name. But the first time he fucked up was by Googling me. I got a fucking stat counter, guy. I got the goods on you.
Whatever you might think of me, make sure “SMART” is at the top of the list. ‘Cos I’m all that, baby.

2 thoughts on “My Dear, Dear Stalker

  1. single gal

    You fuckin’ rule hun.
    I always wondering if guy bloggers get as many stalkers as girl bloggers.

  2. Scribe Called Steff

    Thanks, babe!

    Well, this guy’s just some jerk I rejected through Craigslist. Which is why it’s smart to never bother with rejecting, just delete the email and move on.

    Other respondents get all hurt that we don’t respond to each of them and formally reject them, but this is a great example why one should never do it — and it’s something I wouldn’t normally do. I don’t know where the hell my mind was. One of those stupid moments.

    But I’ve had a few stalker types over the years and it creeps me out. I get a little leery of some folk, but that’s how the cookie crumbles. đŸ™‚

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