Barbara Dunk and P. J. Gonzaga met each other on The Anorexic Love
Connection Board where people chat for hours about all the foods they've
refused in the last twenty four hours.  And Barbara and P. J., who both
have wonderful poetry sites, would tell theirs in rhyme.  Like, "I can assure
you I never would take/ A cheese blintz or a strawberry shake."  To which
Barbara would reply something like, "A blintz and a shake would have me
wasted/ Neither one have ever I tasted."  Little couplets like that made
them the stars of Anorexia.  So they decided to meet.  And they really hit it
off---so much so they decided to marry.  I mean, aside from all they had in
common---like aerobics and vintage bathing suits---think of the money
they could save together on food bills.  But then a perfectly dreadful thing
happened.  Two days before the wedding, Barbara found herself passing by
the Fjord Feast, the leading smorgasbord restaurant in Sandusky.  She
happened to gaze into the window, and what did she see?  None other than her
betrothed sitting at one of the tables, his plate piled almost to the ceiling with
every conceivable Scandinavian dish you can imagine!  The truth was out.
P.J. wasn't anorexic at all; he was bulimic.
 
 

Stalking in our time is almost as bad as pedophilia.  And stalkers lurk in practically
every corner of the Internet.  That's exactly what happened to my dear
friend Brittany (she prefers I don't show either her picture or give her last name).
The terrible thing is that it began where you would have least expected it.
On the Christian Singles Network!
(Spence and I were both appalled when she told us this.)
Brittany got in the habit of logging on each night at 7 p.m. MST.
She began to chat with  what seemed like a very respectable gentleman named Barry
 (the one on the right with the filthy trousers)---a widower with a successful legal
practice, a small cabin cruiser and a Soliflex.  Night after night they would meet in that
room but gradually he began sending her slightly suggestive e-mail, which turned
  raunchier and raunchier, until she told him never to contact her again.
Still he persisted until she was forced to switch her account from Juno to Earthlink.
  Somehow he found out, and the next thing she knew, he had posted an
utterly obscene notice on a particular Board in her name stating she did
unspeakable things with sheep.  (You should have seen the mail she received from
New Zealand alone.)  She kept closing out her e-mail accounts and opening new ones---
going from Interaccess to Pacbell to Worldnet to Lord knows what all.
But somehow this fiend managed to track her down.  And since there is no
such thing as privacy on the WWW, the next thing she knew he had gotten her
home address.  That's him with his cousin Harlan trying to find Brittany's house.
Little do they know, she has just moved to Sri Lanka.
 
 

I have never had contact with Harmony Flomax, but I do know Derek Dubrovny,
and my heart goes out to him.  He met Harmony in the Flirty 30s Chat Room, and
it was the usual story about love at first keystroke.  She told him of her likes,
 her dislikes, her longings, her hopes, her fears.  What she neglected to
tell him about was Harmony, Jr.   No,  not her daughter.  Her doll.
An ex-boy-friend had made her a doll who looked exactly like her.
She took this doll with her everywhere, even to the Minneapolis Bus Terminal
when Derek arrived from Albuquerque.  Now Derek could have put up with
just about any of Harmony's idiosyncracies---whether it was having to have
an Egg McMuffin for breakfast each morning or her complete video collection
of the Jerry Springer show---but when it came to Harmony, Jr., he had to draw
the line.  It was a case of "Love me, love my doll", so if he kissed Harmony, he
had to also kiss this miniature replica.  And if he---well, need I say more?
By the time he left Minneapolis, he was suffering from a severe allergic
reaction to plastic.