How to Internet Stalk Your Neighbor (in 4 easy steps)

Song: Depravation Test by Tripmaster Monkey
1. If you’re the kind of bad, slacker-ass neighbor who does not know your neighbor’s last name or cell number (if you aren’t, you don’t need this post, so yay for you), find the local website that tells you who owns what property. (In Denver, that site is right here — it is useful in many ways, including but not limited to finding your neighbor’s name, figuring out who owns the house on the corner that looks like nobody has lived in it for at least 70 years but allegedly there is a woman, and, truth be told, probably doing all kinds of stalkery things. I’m sharing it with you only for the best reasons, though.) If you don’t have one of these, use a reverse address lookup site like this one. This will give you a full name, unless your neighbor just moved in or is all secretive and shit, and I just can’t account for that.

2. Check sites like and If you’re lucky, you’ll get a phone number.

3. If you’re not lucky, check Facebook and Twitter. These won’t give you a phone number unless your neighbor is all out there with his business, which he’s probably not, but at the very least you can send him a Facebook message if you like or @ him an awesome ytmnd.

4. As a last resort, google. I call this a “last resort” because there’s a good chance you won’t get anything good. You might find 900 other people with the same name* or that your neighbor ran a 5k at a very slow pace when she was 28 or other information you can’t use.

There you have it! That’s how to internet stalk your neighbor (in 4 easy steps).

Wait, what? Oh, hi neighbor! Why am I internet stalking you? (Please note I do not actually consider this stalking; it’s just more fun to say “stalking” than to say something like “gathering information in hopes of contacting our neighbor to deliver an urgent message” or whatever else I’d say.) This is also what Ben called it when he came into the house and said, “Stanley’s** house has been burglarized. Hurry up and internet stalk him!” Meanwhile, Ben checked with the neighbors on the other side of Stanley to see if they knew how to contact him (they did not).

I knew my mission and chose to accept it. Within seconds, I found out that the neighbor’s full name was Stanley Roper.** His phone number is not published, which is not a big deal because he’s obviously not home or he would’ve heard Ben pounding on his door and/or window and yelling “Hey Stanley!” for a good 10 minutes. I found his Facebook page, almost entirely unused Twitter account, and place of employment with direct phone number. On the off-chance he was working late on a Friday, Ben called the office number and left a message. I sent a Facebook message.

Then we called the police. “You might want to put on the scanner,” Ben said, knowing what an absolute ridiculous dork I am with the scanner. A few minutes later, I heard the call go out about a “cold burg” at [address], contact Ben, who will be waiting outside. “I will?!” Ben said, not having said that. Eventually, the police arrived and Ben went out to fill them in. Apparently, the door to the house and several windows were open. The two officers thought they heard something inside, pulled their guns out, and went in. Sweet police action! That’s when Ben wandered back to our house, where Soren and I were making pretend prank phone calls on the toy phone again.

Is this at all related to the creepy towel the other day? We’ll probably never know. But we’re starting to understand the Law of the ‘Hood: We’ll all be burglarized at least once.
*This is why, if you’re going to have a kid, you might want to consider giving him or her a somewhat unique name. I’m not saying you need to name your kid Zarathustra Nietzsche or anything, but you should consider that, one day, his slacker-ass neighbors who never bothered getting his cell number might want to call him to tell him that some asshole broke into his house and if he’s one of 976 John Bakers in the city he won’t, well, get a Facebook message from his neighbor telling him that some asshole broke into his house. That would be tragic.

**Not his real name.