Onomatopoeia

When my friend announced she was joining the group “writers embracing onomatopoeia,” I splashed her facebook page with this loquacious rant filled with phonetic freakiness and frolic:

Onomatopoeia? Hmmm. I dated him once. He's a chump who collects choo choo trains. Psssst. I met him on Yahoo. In the beginning, it was all whoo hoo, ooh lah lah, and hip hip hooray. Whoa! In bed, he was all tah-dah, full of ummmph and ba-da bing. He ooozed charm, but I broke up with him because he had a tendency to buzz, hiss, and sizzle when he was pissed. He is a razzly dazzly snake who slithers and slinks in and out of women's lives, particularly those who wear froo froo tutus. Onomatopoeia was a cheap ding a ling with plenty of ka-ching who didnt buy me bling. He left me feelig punked and zinged. He was a blip in my life who turned out to be a mother*Bleep* Ooops, I shouldn't cuss.

Onomatopoeia will zoom through your life and then bang! It's over, kaboom, zilch, kaput, leaving you to feel zonked. I had an ah-hah moment when the lighbulb in my head went ding and I knew it was better to be lah-de-dah about the whole thing. Awww, don't feel bad for me. One less luggage to chug. Onomatopoeia is a hiccup and a sigh in a life otherwise filled with hooplah. However, as sure as dogs bark, cats meow, ducks quack, chickens cluck, doves coo, turkeys gobble, cows moo, sheep bleat, horses neigh, and pigs squeal, I still babble about Onomatopoeia as I listen to the tick tock of the clock and wait for the phone to ring. Should I beep his pager or click "send" to text him? Or knock on his door? How do I hush the pitter patter of my heart?

Shhhh, don't tell anyone, but Onomatopoeia's brother is Mr. Wham, Bam, thank you Ma'am. He toots his own horn, but he's more dud than stud. He huffs and he puffs but he creates more ow than wow in the whoopie wiggle. You'll feel a boink before he falls over with a thud and a thump. Then he zips it and poof, you hear the roar of his car engine, the screech of tires crunch over gravel and the honk of his car horn. Eek! He misses the toilet when he tinkles. It's icky when he farts and burps, so don't forget to gargle after smooching with this troll looks like one of the oompah loompahs from Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. He was a stuttertutterer who mumumbled when he spoke, warbled out garbled melodies, giggling and guffawing after guzzling too much booze.

Please don’t think my chirpy chants mean that I've flown over the cuckoo's nest. Aaaargh. I deserve to be whacked and slapped for chiming in with these cheap chuckles, ha ha, that comprise my amateur jingles. You'll think I'm a jerk who's gone beserk if I don't quit these quirky quips. I've squiggled too many boo boos to jiggle out of this conundrum. My life is otherwise hum drum and ho hum. Boo hoo. I'm done now, so you'll hear not a peep or a squeak out of me.

A Stalker's Life

If you think a stalker’s life is one-dimensional, think again. Few people appreciate the complex multi-tasking required to fulfill a stalker’s role. Here are some tips for effective stalking:

Stalkers need a paying job with flexible hours. They must be available at a moment’s notice to eat at restaurants not of their own choosing, watch movies they would otherwise not see, or go to stores where they have nothing to buy. Whether you’re crashing a formal party or digging through your victim’s trash and recycling bins, stalking is the most exhausting job you will ever love.

Stalking is not cheap. Prepare a budget for the necessary tools of the trade. You’re going to need a cell phone plan with unlimited minutes for all those long messages you’re going to leave on your victim’s voice mail. I recommend signing with the same cell phone provider as your victim so that you can take advantage of in-network, mobile to mobile calls. Other necessities include: a car with tinted windows, binoculars, a camera with telephoto lens, sunglasses, hats, wigs, and reading material to make you look busy when you’re sitting in public places. You might also want to hire a stylist to help you create different looks with your wardrobe, hair, and accessories. No respectable stalker wants to be caught in the same disguise twice.

In the old days, stalking was looked down upon as unskilled labor. Nowadays, stalkers need to be tech savvy enough to hack into computer systems and use spy-ware. Not to mention all those burglar alarm systems they have to learn to disable.

Stalkers need to stay in good physical shape. They never know when they need to jump over fences, rappel off rooftops, or run from the police. A stalker never leaves home without a first aid kit in case they get injured on the job.

No one understands the adage, “home is where the heart is” more than a stalker. Relocating to new cities on the trail of your victim is an expected part of the job.

Contrary to popular opinion, stalkers do possess social skills. The best ones use their charm to gather intelligence by chatting up their victim’s friends, family, neighbors, hairstylist, manicurist, personal trainer, even the mailman.

When stalkers feel frustrated by obstacles or slow progress, they relax by prowling Facebook for new victims to add to their friends list.

Stalkers are not needy for praise and recognition for a job well done. They understand that stalking is its own reward.

So far, I’ve mentioned financial stability, technical expertise, agility, versatility, endurance, commitment, and resourcefulness. How many people do you know who have all these qualities, plus love in their heart? Friends come and go, family members can disown you, and mates can betray you, but your stalker is the one person you can count on to love you forever. Have you hugged your stalker today?