Miss San Diego: Pageant winner/ John's #1 Stalker

5:05am: Hey this is Ashley (says her last name) it's 5:06 in the morning and I just wanted to let you know you should record this for the ------ cops to hear because you have got sites on your ----- forehead you piece of ----! You are going to be shot in the ------ face for being such a -------! I am going to smile when you die because you are a piece of ----!

Ashley always made sure I knew she loved me, and I definitely did. There was a tiny little problem though - the feeling wasn't mutual. But let's start from the beginning.

A quick preface: In the apartment I was living in at the time, "Ashley" had no idea where it was. Whenever we would hang out (which was almost on a daily basis) she would meet me in the parking lot and our adventures would commence from there. After convincing her that there were no phones in my house, contact was done through cell phone only. It was also made clear that she could never see where I lived under any circumstance. The fact that she didn't even question if I was living with another girl baffles me, but that's neither here nor there.

I'll admit that I enjoyed hanging out with Ashley mostly because at the time I thought she was almost as crazy as me, only to find out later that she was actually insane. By everyone else's standards she was "soooo hot," but being the extremely fastidious playboy I am when it comes to women however, to say she was far more attracted to me than I was to her would be an understatement. Though I wanted to just be friends, she constantly pleaded that we be much more.

Throughout the entire time we were together, Ashley had a few boyfriends here and there but never told them about me. I on the other hand was informed all about them. The fact that she would tell me details of her love life didn't bother me since she was clearly trying to make me jealous or to care, which of course I possess neither of those emotions, or any emotions for that matter.

At this particular point in time, she had been getting progressively closer with her newest boyfriend who thought he was the toughest guy in the world. He carried a gun, listened to rap music, and thought he was more gangsta' than Al Capone. I call Ashley's boyfriend "Pop-tart." Hard on the outside but soft and oh so sweet on the inside. Mmmmm, Pop-tarts. (thanks fiddy). Once again I couldn't have cared less as their relationship continued to blossom.

Despite her new companion, Ashley began asking me why we couldn't spend more time together constantly demanding to see me, be around me, crawl inside me and live in my kidneys, etc. As much as I love being suffocated this was clearly a no-no. This escalated and the "I love you, John" wasn't a one time saying, but began to be constant. Finally it got to be too much and I told her I didn't want to talk to her or see her again since she couldn't handle being just friends. After countless times of her leaving me alone for a day then calling pleading we hang out again, and me hesitantly agreeing (thinking she had magically changed), I told her I was serious about not seeing her anymore. This time she listened...for almost a week. The longest timespan she ever went without trying to contact me.

Less than a week later she called me in sheer depression, balling, telling me how sad she was without me. Myself being the sensitive guy I am, decided to oblige her this one last time. She was apparently spending quality time with Pop-tart at the moment I decided I would see her. She then left him to see me, clearly lying to his face about where she was going. We met up and hung out like the good ol' days. I knew it was the end, but she thought we were back to square one. We parted ways very late that evening. The last message I got...

Feb 5th, 5:10am: Hey I'm home. Okay, I'll talk to you later. I love you. Bye.

Starting with her calls and messages that day forth, I did not respond. Within a week she got the picture that Johnny wasn't joking.

Feb 10th, 7:54pm: Hey, it's Ashley and it's 8 o'clock (starts crying) and I know you're mad at me or whatever but I'm just calling on the off chance that you'll call me back cus I wanna talk to you. Please call me back if you feel like it. Okay, bye.

Once again, calling her back was simply not an option. Despite her numerous calls, text messages, and voicemails, still a week later she hadn't heard from me.

That's when it all started.

I received a text message around 10pm and it read something along the lines of "I'm out with some friends and I got engaged!" Thinking/anticipating/brewing up magical potions just praying she was serious, I foolishly decide to respond with words of encouragement. Hoping this would solidify our separation, I send her a message back, "I'm honestly happy for you! Hope all works out."

I thought it was a nice gesture, but I thought wrong. It was the worst mistake of my life.

The barrage of text messages then attacked me like locusts in Egypt. I was repeatedly asked to meet up with her, see her later that night, marry her, use a potato peeler and give her skin shavings, etc. Learning quickly from moments earlier, I did not pick up my phone and any response to this badgering was clearly out of the question. It was now nearing 11pm and all-nighters were usually imminent at this time due to my early work schedule. I figured this night however, I'd take a nice little snooze because I had to be at work by the comfortable hour of 4am. Resting for once seemed like a good idea on this non-eventful Sunday evening.

My phone kept ringing and after not picking up, I began getting voicemail after voicemail after voicemail. Then I received some voicemails. After that I got a few voicemails followed by a few voicemail messages. Then I got a voicemail. Here's a little of what I heard.

Note: These are only some of the messages left. Most were deleted.

Feb. 20th, 11:13pm: Hey its Ashley it's 11:12 I've been drinking with my friends and I know you know I didn't get engaged I'm with my ------ friend and he's already engaged to someone else but (she starts to lose it) John I miss you sooo much John, I miss yoooou. You're all I talk about when I'm with someone else like all the guys in the whole whatever I miss you so much. I think...I think I gotta drive to your house and I gotta sit and I gotta wait. I will wait however long it takes whatever, I'll wait for you. I'm nothing without you. It's 11:13 and I know (the drastic crying ceases and it seems she's come to her senses) okay, no, you know what, never mind. I'm not gonna bother you I'm not gonna push myself on you I'm gonna go to my house and go to bed. If you change your mind you can call me (crying starts again) you can cus I want you to call me so bad I want you to call me so bad but I'm not gonna push myself on you and I'm gonna go to my house and if you call me (crying subsides) I don't care if it's 4 o'clock in the morning I'll come over whenever you want me to you just call me and let me know I don't care and I'll wait for you to call me. I'm in La Mesa right now but I have enough gas in my car and I'll drive over to wherever you are. I've even got money we can go to In-n-Out I'll buy you food I'll do whatever Ohhhh, I hope I hear from you soon and I hope you're doing good and healthy and well and all that stuff and I love you. I love you so much. Okay bye.

That was a close one! I actually thought she was crazy enough to just come to my house. Thank goodness. She's not that crazy.

11:47: It's Ashley and it's 11:47 and I'm driving to your house...

At least you're not psycho though, are you?

Ashley: (Cont'd)...I know I'm psycho, I'm belligerent, I'm drunk, I am insane whatever you wanna call it I don't care. I'm driving to your house and I'm just so trashed that I might fall asleep on your curb so if you don't show up in a few minutes I'll just sleep till the morning and go home and change and get ready for school. So if you wanna come over to my car you can if you don't want to that's fine and I'll just sleep through the night and that's what I'm gonna do. Cus I miss you and always wanna be by your house...

WHAT?

Ashley: (Cont'd)...So it's 11:48 right now and you can do what you wanna do about the fact that I'm gonna be outside your house. Okay, goodnight.

Nice. I know she's a big talker, but I also know she gets silly at times. And by "gets silly at times" I mean will come to my house to kill me. I guess I counted on wishful thinking just hoping I wouldn't have to deal with her unceasing calls, let alone confront her when I just wanted to rest my beautiful head.

1203: It's 12:04 and I just got off the freeway and I'm about 2 minutes from your house. If you don't call me back I'm gonna sleep on the curb cus I'm ------- trashed. If you wanna come to the car or you want to call me it's all good otherwise I'm gonna be passed out like a ------- lush by your house. I love you. I hope you come to see me cus I miss you. Otherwise I'll just be (slipping/sleeping?) it off.

Um, okay. Sounds great!

12:13: Hi there. I'm in the Ralph's by your house. I just wanted to let you know I got 2 four packs of strawberry daiquiris so I'll be at your house soon and I'll be waiting for yooooou, whether it's right now or in 12 hours. Okay.

Twelve hours? Well, patience is a virtue.

12:15: Meow Meow Meow Meow Meow Meow Meow!

Ashley has now become a cat. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

12:22: Hey, it's 12:23 I'm parking in the in the fire zone (yeah, conveniently blocking in my car) and I am going in the jacuzzi. I got a bunch of alcohol if I pass out in the jacuzzi so what. I'll be in the jacuzzi so it's all good. Anyway, that's where I'm gonna be I'll keep my cellphone with me if you wanna call. Okay, talk to you later. Bye.

Yet again please realize, these are only some of the messages left. There was approximately 1 voicemail left for every 1-5 calls and 1 text message every 3-8 calls.

12:30: I am iiiiin the jacuzzi...

I hear the bubbles in the background and can't help but realize she is serious...ly crazy.

Ashley: (Cont'd)...in your apt complex. I have 2 four packs of some random kind of wine cooler. So uh, Get over here...or else I'm gonna sit in my car, outside your car, and never let you go to work in the morning. Raaaaa! Okaaaaay. Bye.

Where do I find these people?

12:36: I'm rellllentlesssss, I'm insaaaatiable, you better come over I'm gonna stay in your hot tub till 9 in the moooorning. Okaaaay.

I'm gonna strangle yooooouuuuuu, till 9 in the morning.

12:43: I'm at your house in your jacuzzi so if you wanna make sure I got somewhere safe you better check your jacuzzi cus that's where I am. Okay. Bye.

Got somewhere safe? Clearly that's my biggest concern right now.

12:43: You shut your voicemail off so now you're really in for it. I'm gonna sit outside your car...the whole night I'm gonna pass out drunk so you can't even open up your door because my cars gonna be in the door. Ah ahhhh, goodnight.

I'm thinking that by this time (1 1/2 hours since the fiasco began) she's not giving up. I realize that I'm going to have to deal with her in a few hours anyway before work, and would rather just face the crazy lady now and get it over with.

I'm sick of this girl's harassment and seeing how I haven't slept all weekend, loathing the fact that I have to work in a few hours, I'm not a happy camper. I walk outside contemplating if I'm going to call the police, preparing to be physically attacked, and wondering if milk really does a body good, and enter the pool area. As soon as I hear the jacuzzi bubbles, my mind starts going a thousand miles a minute. I walk around into the spa area and I see Ashley. Happily sitting in the hot tub.

Completely naked.

I guess that's one thing I liked about her, neither of us really cared about anything, which was clearly apparent at this point in time. The second I spot her I guess she thinks everything's cool as if we had been hanging out that very day.

Ashley: (nonchalant) Hey, what's up?

Are you serious? What's up is that you're in the middle of my apartment complex, not letting me sleep, coming over against my will, blocking in my car so I can't move it, decided against swimming apparel, and are refusing to leave me alone. Oh, not much, how was your day?

Me: What?! Do you want me to call the police?
Ashley: Oh, I thought we could hang out.
Me: (This chick is crazy!) Yeah, okay, let's hang out.
Ashley: (She turns) I got some drinks here...

I grab her cellphone and take off. Not knowing if she's going to give naked chase down the street, scream bloody murder or drown herself, I quickly go through her phone numbers. Effortlessly I strike gold. I see "Pop-tart." I immediately let out a proud Count-like laugh, then begin dialing.

Now, all I've known of this dude is that he is clearly the most hardcore guy alive. He's a big gun-toting tough guy with a chip on his shoulder that anyone who values their life should not mess with him. Seeing how none of that concerns me, I dial the number with expectations of my life being threatened.

Despite my temptations to call out this tough guy, instigate, and tell him all about how "his girl" has been coming to see me after being with him almost every night, I decide to be on my best behavior. All I want is for him to come remove Crazy Lady from the premises so I don't have to involve the Boys in Blue. I dial the number.

With every ring my anticipation grows. My anticipation then leads to disappointment when his voicemail finally picks up. Figuring it's after 1am and it's been a few hours since wifey left his arms, he's probably sleeping happily, dreaming about the love of his life who is now sitting in my hot tub naked. The voicemail picks up and I'm ready for this gangsta's message.

Pop-Tart's Voicemail: (in the most Californian surfer dude happy-go-lucky accent) Heeeey, this is Pop-tart...Leeeeave a message after the beep. Thanks. Bye-bye.
Me: (stunned, shocked, and actually still laughing at this point) That's a funny message. (I pause to make sure I stop laughing. Time to get to the point) Yo, you're girl is at my place and you may need to come pick her up. This is her "friend" John. I got her phone with me so call me back.

Ten minutes go by and no response. I'm still cracking up to myself realizing this guy isn't 50 Cent but Kip from Napoleon Dynamite. I call Pop-tart back. Yet again I'm greeted by a voicemail.

Me: Dawg, your girl is at my place and she needs you to come get her. Call me back.

No response. I start walking back to figure out what I'm going to do about the situation. I'm almost back to the pool area when Ashley's phone rings. Oh yes, it's Pop-tart.

Me: Yo.
Pop-tart: (once again, California surfer to the fullest) Hey, what's going on man?
Me: Look, I'm going back to talk to Ashley right now so you probably don't even need to come get her, so there's nothing to worry about and it's really no big deal. If I do need you to get her, I'll give you a call back but don't worry about it.
PT: Ohhh. Well, what's she doing?
Me: She's chillin. I doubt you'll have to come get her, but I'm not sure yet. Either way I'll let you know.
PT: Why, what's going on?
Me: Like I said, I'll call you if I need you to get her.
PT: Well what...

I hang up. It's obvious he just wasn't getting it. Within 10 seconds he calls back but now I can't pick up. I'm face to face with a belligerent and confused bubble-clad woman whose nipples are now piercing my corneas.

Ashley: (standing up and getting loud) Where were you? What did you do with my phone? What did you do, who did you call?!
Me: I called Pop-tart.
Ashley: WHAT? I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!

I calmly ask her to chill and before I can give her the Uncle Joey CUT-IT-OUT, she loses it.

Ashley: No John Money who lives here, John Money who lives at apartment number...(she has no idea where I live, hilarious) IN THIS APARTMENT COMPLEX SOMEWHERE!

After a few more raging outbursts, she finally sits back down and begins crying upset that I don't want to have anything to do with her, thinking I just exposed our adventures to her jealous boyfriend. She finally calms down and we start chatting as civilized adults, well, as civilized as it can be looking at this fit of rage dressed in nude.

A moist substance then begins falling from the sky. Seeing how this happens once every 17 years in San Diego, it takes me a minute to realize that it's raining. I decide to be a gentleman.

Me: Here, let me take your clothes and put them in the car so they don't get wet. (She hesitates. I think quickly) I'll get an umbrella and some towels and join you.
Ashley: Oh, baby, you're soooo sweet!

I take the keys to her car with one thing on my mind. MOVE HER CAR.

I move her car and mine's no longer blocked in, yoink her umbrella, and stop at my house and get some towels. I arrive back to see her face filled with nothing but glee. I join her (actually wearing something called a bathing suit) and everything's cool for the next hour.

3:00am - I'm realizing that I have to be to work soon. I still have to eat, shower, and get my daily pedicure. I try to be subtle.

Me: (being as sincere as I can) Well, it was really nice seeing you again.
Ashley: Yeah, I'm so happy I got to see you. I missed you so much! Blah blah words words words.
Me: Yeah, well, keep in touch...
Ashley: WHAT? Aren't we going to see each other this week?
Me: Umm, that's probably not the best idea...
Ashley: HUH? I thought we were cool and everything was good again?!
Me: Yeah, we're cool, but we should probably go back to being how we were the past few weeks. Look, I'm seeing some chick anyway and more importantly, you got the love of your life Pop-tart...

Not music to her ears.

Ashley: WHAT?! EVERYTHING WAS SO NICE TONIGHT...

Um, did we forget about the 400 times you called or maybe the fact that you showed up uninvited in your birthday suit ready to kill someone?

Ashley: (Cont'd) AND YOU KNOW I LOVE SEEING YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE GOING TO DO THIS TO ME! AGAIN! I JUST CAN'T...

I immediately just turn and walk away. As I exit the premises her cries escalate. I now realize it's time to move. My imaginary sprinting partner hands me the baton and I take off at top speed.

I'm now sprinting in my bare feet in the pouring rain, literally gliding back to where my car is. Now that it's not blocked in anymore, I move it to where she can't see it and dart back into my house. I have no clue what she's going to do next. Is she going to sit in my hot tub for the rest of the night, slither after me, go to my work, try to find out where I live, kill herself, spawn crazy water baby psychos? I have no idea. But discreetness is number one on Johnny's to do list.

To be on the safe side I keep all the lights off while I'm cooking eggs and showering (separately...at least this time), hoping she won't be creeping around the complex looking for me. I notify my co-workers letting them know I got one of the stalkers on me and I may have to be picked up from an undisclosed location. I then text message Ashley to keep the towel as a parting gift (she's one of those "I need to see you...because I have to um, return your towel") and to never talk to me again.

Everything goes smooth. I get out of the shower and have a voicemail. Surprise surprise. It's AAAAAshley.

3:48am: You ------- -------, you moved your car so I couldn't crash into it!...

Wow, that's pretty normal.

Ashley: (Cont'd)...so um, the towel's a parting gift so I figure that's the last time we'll talk again and uh, at least I'll remember it, right. Anyway, um, I guess good times man, pretty ------- crazy little trick you played on me. Um, okay, I'll talk to you later, okay bye.

Well, I've gotten no sleep in the last 24 hours, no biggie, I've stayed up longer than that before, but at least this crazy night is over. Full day of work ahead but the main thing is this Ashley nonsense is finally over with.

As I'm driving to work a tad (Hathaway) bit late, my phone rings. I see a number I don't recognize and figure it's Ashley calling from a pay phone or her boyfriend's phone, but I'm really hoping it's Ed McMahon letting me know I won $1,000,000. I'm already late to work so I don't bother picking up.

I'm alerted that I have a voicemail. Please be Ed McMahon, pleeeeease!

4:59am On my voicemail: (in this deep hardcore voice) Hey John, this is Pop-tart. You just ------ with the wrong mother------ I just want you to know that and I hope you watch your back boy, cus you are ------ gone!

I guess sweetie pie Pop-Tart just took his tough guy pills. I immediately call back.

Pop-Tart: Yo man, you're as good as dead homie, you got sites on your head! I'm coming to get you!

He hangs up.

Oh come on. At least stay on the phone long enough so I can tell you my whereabouts so you can come kill me. I call back.

Pop-tart: Boy, you don't know who you're ------ with!
Me: Ohhhhhh, you're a tough guy now? What happened to the nice guy from last night? (Completely sincere) You seemed so sweet on the phone last night.
Pop-tart: Shut the ---- up! I'll kill you!
Me: Yeah? You'll kill me? I'm sure you will. So do this. Get your gun, get all your boys and come kill me. I'm going to work right now so come get me. I work at Channel - on ----- Rd. Big TV station. You can't miss it.

He hangs up.

I'm hoping this means he's on his way to shoot me. As I'm walking into work, my phone alerts me of a voicemail. I didn't get a chance to pickup the other line while Pop-tart was telling me of my newly shortened life.

5:05am: Hey this is Ashley (says her last name) it's 5:06 in the morning and I just wanted to let you know you should record this for the ------ cops to hear because you have got sites on your ----- forehead you piece of ----! You are going to be shot in the ------ face for being such a -------! I am going to smile when you die because you are a piece of ---- and yeah, this is Ashley (last name). they can come question me I will be responsible for telling someone to kill you because you are a ----- and I will be glad when you die.

Big difference an hour makes. 60 minutes earlier this chick wanted to marry me, now she wants me dead. Could be what the experts mean when they use the term "Bi-Polar?"

Now I'm wondering what exactly she must have told Pop-tart that got him so fired up. Ashley apparently wants me dead so she obviously didn't tell him about our escapades. Call me George because now I'm curious. I decide to call Pop-tart back and see what's up.

Pop-tart: I don't know why you're calling me man, I'm going to kill you!

By this time I'm actually walking into work still on my phone and my boy sees me.

My Boy: What's up man? This chick following you or what? Everything straight? What's going on?
Me: (talking extremely casual and pointing to the phone) Oh nothing, this guy is coming to kill me so you may have to cover my shift for a while because I'll be dead.
Pop-tart: YOU'RE GOING TO DIE! I'M GONNA ------ ----- ---- ----- ---- KILL YOU ----- DEAD ----- ----!
Me: Alright, look, I really do hope you're coming to kill me. You know where I'm at so don't talk anymore and come do it. Got a question for you though. What did this chick tell you to get you so excited?
Pop: Oh you're not getting me on this dude. She told me all about you.
Me: (Ummm...) All about me? Huh. What exactly about me did she tell you?
Pop: She told me you tricked her into coming to your place last night and how you want to get back together with her...
Me: What?! First off dawg, we were never together. She wanted me to be with her from day one but I made it perfectly clear that we were cool, but nothin' more . Second of all, do you really know what went down last night?
Pop: You can't lie to me man. Don't try pullin any of that ---- with me.

Okay tough guy. Time for Johnny to bring out the big guns.

Me: Dawg, YOUR girl came to MY place last night and I didn't even want her there. She left you to come to see me. Can't say it's the first time. (Ouch!)
Pop: You're lying!
Me: Look, your girl's been creepin on you this whole time. I don't know you and I already don't like you, but check it out, let me help YOU out. Your girl's been all up on me before you even started chillin with her and I can't even count how many times she's come to see me after leaving your house.

There's silence on the other end.

Pop-tart: Now I know you're lying!

His softer tone shows that his confidence is clearly dwindling.

Me: Okay, how about I play some of the messages your girl left me all night before and AFTER she came to my house. Let's clear things up a bit.
Pop-tart: No way! You don't have any mes...
Me: I'm calling my voicemail right now. (my voicemail picks up) You there?
Pop-tart: (hesitantly) ...Y..yeah
Me: Aiiight, you've been with this girl for a few months now, right?
Pop-tart: (proudly) Yup!
Me: Okay, so obviously a few weeks ago you were happy together, right? Guy like you, probably even got her in check.
Pop-tart: (hesitantly) ...Y..yeah
Me: Well check this.(<---I'm witty.)
Pop-Tart: No way man, you don't got no mes...
On the phone (my voicemail message playing): Received Feb. 5th at 5:10am: Hey I'm home. Okay, I'll talk to you later. I love you. Bye.

Me: Ohhhhhhhhh, that's your girl? What's she doing calling me at 5am? Thought that was your girl dawg?

Crushed. Now that's a shot to the heart. Clearly Mr. Bill was inspired by Pop-tart's hopes and dreams. Utterly destroyed.

Pop-tart: (dead silence)
Me: Don't worry buddy, that's probably the last time she called me...
On the phone: Feb. 10th 7:54pm: Hey, it's Ashley and it's 8 o'clock (starts crying) and I know your mad at me or whatever but I'm just calling on the off chance that you'll call me back cus I wanna talk to you. Please call me back if you feel like it. Okay, bye.
Me: What the? That must have been a mistake because she loves you a lot. I can tell. That was DEFINITELY the last message. This next message must have been some sort of mistake too...
Pop-tart: Aight, aight.
Me: Huh?
Pop-tart: D...Don't play no more.
Me: What? Dawg, you haven't even heard the half of it, and I ain't even started playing the messages from last night!(<----who sounds gangsta now?!)

CLICK. Homeboy hung up the phone!

Now I'm cracking up, actually enjoying this. Lack of sleep obviously contributed to my entertainment, but now I want him to hear all the messages. I call him back, he doesn't pick up. I call him back a second time, he doesn't pick up. A third time I call him back and he doesn't pick up. He's clearly refusing to talk to me when I'm trying to call but I guess I can't blame him, he's probably deep in mourning by now. Poor guy. Before I can laugh at this guy anymore, my phone rings. It's Ashley.

Me: What?
Ashley: (as if we just ended a romantic night and she hadn't just left me a message saying she was going to have me killed) Hey baby, what's up?
Me: What's up? What?! What's up is that you're absolutely insane! I'm trying to do my job without having some clown that thinks he's tough threaten my life!
Ashley: Yeah, I just talked to Pop-tart (pause) ha! He's even calling me again right now! Seriously, he knows the deal. He knows I love you and not him and there's nothing he can do about it.

I laugh. She giggles.

Ashley: He told me that he said he was going to kill you and you said to come do it and were talking ---- to him and he couldn't believe you weren't scared of him.
Me: Scared of him? I laughed at him as soon as he said he would shoot me! I seriously hope he comes to kill me.
Ashley: He's not going to go anywhere near you. I know as well as he does you'd beat him up if you guys fought.
Me: I don't even think I'd fight him, I'd just laugh in his face and watch him do nothing. If I was lucky maybe he'd pull out his gun so I could take it from him then slap him across the face and walk away laughing.
Ashley: You know, hearing you talk like that, honestly, it just gets me...so hot.
Me: What? You're crazy. Hey, I gotta go.
Ashley: Well, am I going to see you today?
Me: (here we go again) Look, I gotta work today...
Ashley: What about tomorrow? Can I see you then?
Me: (Are you kidding me? I'm now at the point where I'm contemplating calling the cops but I know it will be easier just to never talk to her again) Yeah, okay, sure. We'll get together tomorrow.
Ashley: Oh good! That makes me so happy!
Me: Yeah, go console your boy cus he's probably balling his eyes out by now.
Ashley: Okay baby, I love you! I can't wait to see you again!
Me: Sure thing.
Ashley: I love you.

That was the last time I ever talked to Ashley.

I walked into the live news production armed with quite a story. The highlight was explaining Pop-tart's change of heart from being Mr. Nice Guy to being the toughest guy in the world. Realizing Pop-tart won't answer my calls, I decide to enhance the story by letting everyone hear his hilarious voicemail surfer greeting.

Pop-Tart's voicemail: (in the toughest voice anyone can speak in) Yeeea, this is Pop-tart leave a message and I'll hit ya back yo yo yo - or at least something along those lines. We all had a good laugh.

Aside from writing her to question what happened to Pop-tart's nice-guy image and why he changed his voicemail (which come to find out he actually changed on account of ME laughing at him), I have not spoken with Ashley since that fateful night. I have gotten numerous phone calls, messages, emails, and marriage proposals, but have yet to respond. To this day, her efforts to contact me have slightly declined, if that, but have yet to cease.

Despite his taking a shot to the heart and finding out the reality that the love of his life was actually in love with me the whole time, last I knew Pop-tart was still with Ashley. Probably as happy as can be.

I have yet to be shot by Pop-Tart.

I actually learned something from this whole fiasco and that is I'M the one who's crazy. So if you're reading this and decide you love me, all you have to do is tell me to leave you alone, you don't like me, and want to have nothing to do with me. I'll then take that as the complete opposite and stalk you too. I'll probably decide to randomly show up in your hot tub as well. Completely naked.

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