Jeepers....Creepers.

Yes, I totally named my blog after the worst horror movie ever made. Sad thing is, they also made a sequel. Yes, there are two Jeepers Creepers. That's scarier than the movie.

Anyway, I'm just tired of creepers. If I delete you, please don't try to message me about why I deleted you. Thing is, if I deleted you I really don't want to talk to you. So, why would I want to message you? Also, if I delete you why in the (excuse my language) hell would you (or how CAN YOU?) comment on my photographs. That's weird. Especially when you comment on my things "what happened?". I'll tell you what happened.

You're weird.
And not in the "good I think I like this guy because he's quirky" way. More like in the "you're just weird dude" kind of way.

And please...please...don't get my number off of facebook or from your friend and text me..."HEY DANI!" That's just freaking weird as all get out. I mean, you could at least ASK me first. It's a little desperate to look a girls number up online. Talk to her. Let her know you aren't weird. And for God's sake don't tell her she needs to work out...


...ESPECIALLY if she's a size freaking zero already. Not to mention, a single mother of two kids. Trust me, that's all the "working out" I need to do. Your job description as a body builder? NOT sexy to me. Trust me, I'd rather date a computer geek who is ugly as homemade sin than date a bulky, beefy, meathead.

Where are all the good guys hiding out? The guys who don't cheat or lie? The guys who have more going for them than their biceps? Or the guys that don't get clingy as heck? You know, the guys that like football so much it irks your nerve, but at the same time are so cute about it? Or the guys who actually want just ONE girl?

Yeah, maybe I'm dreaming. Maybe it's true. They're all married...or gay.

My money is on Gay.
No hope there for me.

Oh, and please, don't try your slick lines on me. Especially if you don't really mean it. After all I've been through I can detect your BS from a mile away. If you can't hold an intelligent conversation about something other than how depressing your life is and how you hate the world and love is a black hole sucking out your emotions or how "I can bench a St. Bernard"...well, just shut up. Please.

That's as nice as I can be about it.
Shut. Up.

I hate talking to people who make it possible for me to feel my brain cells dying.

So, from here on out...if you're a creeper, please leave your creep at the door or just get your creep on somewhere else.

If you're normal?
Pull up a seat and stay awhile.