Shootin' at the walls of heartache, bang, bang

Would you think very much less of me if you learned I may be a stalker? I was listening to Tim Gunn last night on Project Runway and, as has so often been the case, his tone and inflection made me miss my dead Grandma. No, seriously. Dead. Ringer. Anyway, you know his backstory, right? He's the haughty (and surely naughty) Fashion Design Chair at Parson's, and mother hen to the designers on Runway. On a personal note, the poor hawt dear had his heart broken a long time ago and hasn't dated since like the 80's or some shit. Anyway, back to the call. You heard me. I rang up T. Gunn. Bitch screened me, sure, but after the message I left, I'm confident I'll be hearing from him soon. Fuck Andre, I think it's only a matter of weeks before Tim and I are doing lunch at the Red Lobster. Oh, and get off your high horse. Is it SO STRANGE that I booty-called this droll design doyenne......who I'd totally fuck (after I dusted it first*)......who sounds like my Grandma?

*While a practical matter in this case, hole dusting, or swiffering, as they're calling it in some circles, is quite the rage these days. It's fun and your taint can never be too tidy, people.