Two days in a row starting with exciting news. Listen, I WON THE INTERNET THIS WEEK. There was no tiger blood, SHEEN, but I am TOTALLY WINNING.
So there’s been this top-secret project I’ve been working on for a while, and I promised not to talk about it until it was official, which is tough, because listen, you know that saying “loose lips sink ships?” I would have sunk an entire goddamn ARMADA with this news, I was so excited. (Not normally, though? Because normally, I don’t like to gossip about shit. Especially shit that can ruin people’s reputations and lives or isn’t any of my business. I mean, little stuff like “ZOMG did you SEE Jenny’s DRESS it was the WORST because SHOULDER PADS” who cares, but “Yeah, I totally heard that one time George was locked up because of the meth and also he murdered his aunt in a fit of sexrage but don’t tell anyone” probably you’re not going to get from me. Well, unless I love you and you’re planning a date with George. Then I’m warning the hell out of you. Friendship and saving a friend’s life from a methhead sex murderer trumps not ruining someone’s reputation.
Wow, that went off topic. I don’t think either of us are in the least surprised.
ANYWAY exciting news!
I am now also blogging, along with here, of course, and with mah homies over at The Loser’s Table, at Insatiable Booksluts! This is exciting on many levels. Here are some. Of the levels, I mean. That was vague.
- I love books. Like, LOVE. Possibly more than almost anything. I think in the hierarchy of things that I love, it might go The Nephew, my phone, books, chocolate, animals, friends and family, obscure words from the past with many syllables, television, and then comfortable pajamas. And then everything else.
- I love @grngeekgirl, who is half of the Booksluts. She is the sister I never had because my parents stopped at two because we were totally a handful and they had one of each flavor. Getting to work with her makes me irrationally happy, and I like happy. Who doesn’t? I haven’t met Rob, who is the OTHER half of the Booksluts, yet but I’m sure I will love her as well. I LOVE EVERYONE TODAY.
- When I started talking to @grngeekgirl about what I should blog about, she and I were discussing book reviews, and she was very professional and grown-up about it, because she is really amazing? So of course I countered with “HOW ABOUT I DO A BOOK DEATH MATCH WOULDN’T THAT JUST BE THE FUNNIEST THING.” And why she rocks? Is that she thought it WOULD be the funniest. And let me DO it. I love her. Like I love cake. Shit, cake wasn’t on my list. Cake should have been on my list up there. Pretend it is, or just insert it with your MIND BULLETS, I don’t care, I’m totally too tired today to cursor up and insert it. I stayed up way too late last night dicking around on the interwebs.
- Insatiable Booksluts is a blog I really like. Like, subscribed-like, and when a new post goes up, I do a happy-dance, like. So you know what’s exciting? Being asked to write for a blog you admire. Here are the steps you go through. They’re like the Kubler-Ross steps of grief, only they’re a lot more awesome.
b) Worry you’ve been punk’d!
d) More punk’d worry!
e) Worry it’s a mistake because do they know you don’t know what you’re doing and you’re just effing around here and sometimes you say something funny and you’re just as perplexed as anyone when that happens?
f) Acceptance, after much reassurance!
g) Total and complete exhilaration!
h) Oh, shit, I have to write a post now? HOLY HELL WHAT IF IT SUCKS.
Anyway, ANYWAY! Last night, my first post went up at Insatiable Booksluts. So first, subscribe to their blog, because it is made of awesome. THEN, read my post, which is made of ADDITIONAL awesome, because @grngeekgirl allowed me to play, and it was so much fun to write. And she found me a kickass boom box guy photo, and also made me a banner that I’m so in love with I want to make out with it all porn-tonguey.
Are you so fed up with how into myself I am right now? I know. I’d be fed up with me, too, if I didn’t love me so goddamn much.
OK, so let’s talk about something else?
Serial killers? Sure, let’s talk about serial killers.
So to continue with the @grngeekgirl love, she sent me a link to a post of hers on her personal blog about the time she met a serial killer. Well, she’s nicer than I am, so she said he MAYBE was a serial killer. I read it and I’m pretty sure he put on a pig’s face mask and danced with a cleaver in the moonlight naked after she got off the bus, but then again I think there are people in the tree outside my window watching me undress at night and it’s totally just a sapling so how would they even get up there? Let alone remain hidden? That really says more about me than about serial killers.
Anyway, after reading her post, I thought about the two serial killers I have known in my life. Well, one I KNOW, and one I did know, as I moved away. One still lives here, and I see him regularly. I KNOW.
Also, I have a weird obsession with serial killers. I mean, I don’t want to get KILLED by one. But I find them FASCINATING. I’m pretty sure in another life I was a profiler. It’s not so much “sick” as it is “why would anyone care that much about serial killers whatever it’s Amy just roll with it.”
First, R. R. was a coworker at the humane society. I can’t remember his name. But I think it might have started with R? So I should probably change that, but I’m not sure if it did, to tell you the truth. So what if I changed it, and then I happened to change it to whatever it really DID start with? Murdering, that’s what. Oh, also he was really pretty old, so I can’t guarantee he’s still alive. And the internet scared him. So I don’t think he’s going to be reading this. Also? Probably too busy murdering.
R was just…off. His eyes never seemed to line up, and he looked over your shoulder when he talked to you, or directly at your chest. Over your shoulder was better. Chest was not. Better. Not better at all. I don’t think he was looking at the male coworker’s chests. He might have been. I know I was looking at one of them, because DAMN. And FINE. And MUSCLEY. Anyway, that’s not what we’re talking about here. MURDERING.
He wandered around having ENTIRE CONVERSATIONS with himself. I mean, not just “ok, what’s next, clean out cage 13” as you might, but “oh, R., I know, right, hee hee! And then, R., what about when he said that thing? I DID NOT LIKE THAT R.” So that made you want to curl up in a ball and die.
Also he went into irrational rages. Like, we had asshat clientele? And I used to get REALLY MAD at them. Like, for example, the guy who called me a fat ugly bitch because he didn’t have enough money to get his dog out of impound and he yelled at his dog as he loaded him in the car because it’s totally the DOG’S fault you didn’t keep him safely in the house, you bag of dicks? But R. would get mad at someone for WALKING A DOG WRONG. He’d STOMP up to them, SNATCH the leash away, and mumble “people should all die in fires” as he walked away. And the best part is THEY WEREN’T WALKING THE DOG WRONG.
And one day we had to put a cat down because it was showing signs of what might have been rabies, and he REFUSED, and then started THROWING things, and said he was going to KILL anyone who TOUCHED that cat, because that cat DESERVED TO LIVE. Let’s not mention that when it was animal put-down day, he totally jumped all over that chance. I have no idea what was going on there.
And he was late, a lot, and had to leave early, a lot, for shady reasons, and would come in with little cuts on himself, like one would get from, oh, I don’t know, let’s say STABBING SOMEONE TO DEATH and right before I quit, he was planning on quitting, and would wander around glaring at all of us saying “Time’s getting short now…so short…getting SO SHORT NOW.” And we really, really hoped he meant HIS time, with us, but we were pretty convinced it was OUR time, on this EARTH.
So as you can see, he was unhinged, and I’m pretty sure when he wasn’t at the shelter all stompy-stomping, he was murdering people and cutting them up and putting them in jars in his basement for his nomming pleasure in the winter.
And the serial killer I know NOW, who I see REGULARLY. He’s really mild-mannered, and you KNOW those are the people that, once they find the body parts in the deep freeze, the neighbors are all “But he was so quiet!” NO. I am ON TO YOU CHUCKLES.
He’s our copier repairman? So I’ll call him CR, even though I know his name. Because, murderer.
He’s like this little mild-mannered guy, and he comes in here, and his car, first of all, is all stuffed with STUFF. Like, bags and boxes and napkins. I don’t know how he gets in there. And he pulls up, and he SITS in it. For a really long time. And we can see him! Out the windows of the office! And he’s talking to himself. NO, he doesn’t have a Bluetooth. He’s CHATTING. With HIMSELF. I don’t know, psyching himself up, Bateman-style? I am not sure.
Then he comes in and he SKULKS. He sidles up to my desk, “Amyyyy? I’m heeeere” and it is the CREEPIEST.
He can’t fix copiers. It’s never fixed when he leaves, although he says it is. We put in another service call five minutes after he walks out, every time. And then they send someone over who ACTUALLY fixes it. So I’m not 100% sure he even works there?
And our office closes at 5, and he always shows up at 4, no matter when we place the service call, so at 4:45, we say, “CR, we close at 5, so you have to be cleaned up and done by then,” and he says, “Yes.” And then he’s NOT. He’s got the thing torn all up and he’s sitting amongst the parts looking like he’s about to CRY. And we have to wait! For him to be done so we can leave! Leaving us ALONE! In the OFFICE! With a SERIAL KILLER! And when he DOES leave? Again, with the sitting the car talking to himself. For a REALLY long time. Once, I went shopping after work, and forgot something here, and had to come back, and when I did, like two hours later? Who was still in the parking lot, chatting and chatting with the car junk? No, NOT Enrique Iglesias. Why would you even THINK that? CR. CR WAS.
And. AND! One time, we couldn’t find him? And he was just wandering around the office, nowhere near the copier. And I said, “CR? Did you…um…need something?” and he said, “I got lost. I can’t find the copier.” WHAT? You were AT the copier! Why did you LEAVE the copier? SCOPING OUT HIS KILLFIELD THAT’S WHAT.
ALSO! Also. And this is how I KNOW he’s a serial killer? You know how repairmen sometimes have a manual with diagrams and such in it? Oh, CR has a manual, all right. And do you know what it is? DO YOU? It is a BACKSTREET BOYS NOTEBOOK FROM THE 90s. NO, I am not kidding. It’s this dogeared Backstreet Boys notebook, with the Backstreet Boys all dressed in shiny suits standing on what looks like a cloud. And written on them IS EACH OF THEIR NAMES IN CURLY BUBBLE LETTERS IN PINK PEN. And a piece of tape that says “COPIER REPAIR MANUAL.”
Why does he have this. WHY DOES HE HAVE THIS. You know about trophies, right? Serial killers and how they keep trophies? IT IS TOTALLY A TROPHY. I mean, if it was for REAL, it would be ‘N Sync, right? I mean, I was too old for the boy-band reoccurrence, and even I know that ‘N Sync trumped The Backstreet Boys. Because of Timberlake, of course.
So whenever he comes in and he says “Ammyyyyy” and he wants me to look at the copier and all the “repairs” he did I warn my co-workers if they don’t see me for a little while, I’m in his TRUNK. All bound up and stuffed in alongside the other trophies and detritus and whatever is in there. And they think that is SO EFFING FUNNY. But it is NOT funny. Because SERIAL KILLER. What is funny about being killed, serially? NOTHING. Well, maybe my coworkers think it’s funny because I’m like the decoy and as he’s killing ME they can sneak out the BACK or whatever and yeah, that’s TOTALLY a HOOT, you guys. I am not going to hesitate to point him in YOUR direction when he starts to murder me. I have nothing against throwing you under the bus to save my own skin. I LIKE MY SKIN.
So there. TWO serial killers. Who I have managed to avoid, so far. But I cannot guarantee my lifespan, because one of them is still very much around and that copier has been acting up lately. So LISTEN! If I don’t blog here regularly sometime soon, and you think, oh, she’s probably just busy, CHECK CR’s TRUNK. I’m telling you. Backstreet Boys notebook. WHAT ELSE COULD THAT MEAN.