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And it wasn’t the first time, either. I’ve done it before. And I know in my heart that I’ll do it again. It’s taken me a few days to come to grips with it—as it always does—but now I’m ready to admit my heinous crimes. Because admitting that you have a problem is the first step.

Mr. Weebles is aware of my crimes. He doesn’t condone them. But he knows he is powerless to stop me. He knows I will kill again and again. And again.

I don’t do it on purpose. I’m not proud of my actions. I have no hatred for my victims. It just . . . happens. I can’t help myself. I try to take precautions so that I don’t cause any harm, but sometimes I forget myself and before I know it, there’s another one. Dead. I’ve lost count at this point, but I would estimate that I’ve killed anywhere between 50 and 100 innocents.

My friends, what you are about to see isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s gruesome and grotesque. I would advise those of you with small children to make sure the little ones are as far away from your monitor as possible before you view these so you don’t scar them for life. You shouldn’t view these while you’re at work either in case your company’s IT department monitors this type of thing.

If you have a sensitive nature, please be warned. These are the kinds of images that will stay with you forever. They’ll haunt you to your core. You cannot unsee them once they have been seen. They will be permanently etched on your retinas. I cannot emphasize this enough. Do you have any Valium or Xanax? You might want to take some now and wait until it kicks in. Or have a stiff drink to numb your senses to what you are about to see. Even I still get sickened, and I’m the murderer. I’ve seen it all first hand. I’ve stared at the corpses and cleaned them up. I never get used to the carnage. And yet I continue to commit these terrible acts.

I’m so sorry, little tissues. I didn’t mean to wash you. I just keep forgetting that I have you in my pockets and then I forget to check my pockets before I do the laundry. You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you like this, all shredded and brittle. Sometimes I have to look away for a moment. I cry when I pick your little remains off my clothing. You were so kind, and soft, and you didn’t deserve this fate. I will mourn each and every one of you until the day I die.

Today I am bored

Madame Weebles —  April 28, 2012 — 7 Comments

It’s Saturday night. I should be doing something exciting and fun. What am I doing instead? Sitting on the couch with my laptop in front of me, watching Law & Order: SVU reruns that I’ve seen 87 times already. Well, actually, alternating between L&O, the Yankee game (thanks for a stellar outing, Freddy Garcia), and whatever true crime story is on the ID channel (Mr. Weebles and I are addicted to that channel). It’s sad, isn’t it.

What’s even sadder is, I’m considering doing laundry right now. Yeah. Laundry. Which isn’t quite as pathetic as it sounds, only because Mr. Weebles and I are blessed by having our very own washer & dryer in our apartment. So I can do laundry whenever I want. Sometimes I leave it in the dryer all night just because I can. Just for funsies. It’s so decadent, after years of watching the dryer like a hawk to prevent some asshole from taking my clothes out of the dryer the millisecond after it stopped.

So yeah, this is Saturday night in the Weebles household. On the Lame Scale, it’s only a few steps above sitting quietly as I listen to my body age.

See, the thing is, most of the things people do on Saturday nights just don’t hold much interest for me. I used to enjoy going to movies until the ordeal of body slamming thousands of moviegoers to get to my seat became too annoying. I suppose movie theaters have always been really crowded, but I’m getting more irritable and more impatient as I get older (which doesn’t bode well for 65-year-old me—Mr. Weebles will probably have me committed).

Going out for dinner can be nice, but so many restaurants these days are ridiculously noisy and/or jam packed, and if you don’t plan ahead with a reservation, chances are you’re going to have to wait for a table unless you get there at 5:30pm. I refuse to eat that early—I’m not a retiree in Miami Beach.

I don’t know, what else is there? I’m pretty unimaginative when it comes to finding other things to do that don’t involve being in an über-loud, über-crowded environment. I’m not a wild gal. My idea of a nice time is going to a library or museum. (It’s true, that’s what I think is fun.) But where can a cranky person like me go to have fun in NYC on a Saturday night?

You might ask, why the hell do you live there if you find the crowds and the noise so annoying? Well, the answer is simple. For the most part, I find the crowds and the noise comforting. I grew up in NYC. City life suits me. The suburbs, with trees and cars and whatnot, are completely alien to me. And I’m not moving to another city. The only way I’ll leave is if someone drags away my cold dead corpse. Despite the fact that New York City is nowhere near as great as it used to be. Because believe me, it’s lost a lot of appeal over the past 10 years or so.

By the way, not that you asked, but I place the blame for NYC’s decline squarely on Mike Bloomberg’s shoulders. Giuliani did some damage but I think Bloomberg has committed the greater sin here. He’s turned this city into a bland suburban metropolis. And by sanitizing and gentrifying everything and turning it into the ultimate tourist mecca, he destroyed most of the soul that made this city great. And he and his developer friends have made it so expensive to live here that the demographics of the city are getting completely skewed. We probably have more rich, entitled, brainless brats per capita now than we ever have before. Everyone who could no longer afford Manhattan moved to the outer boroughs or Jersey, and now those areas are becoming prohibitively expensive too. Ordinary people can barely get by nowadays. That means that a lot of really cool, creative, interesting people can no longer afford to live around here. So without them, their small businesses, their talents, and their diversity, the city has lost its vibrance and “grit.” I fear for the future of my once-awesome hometown but part of me still has a perverse hope that things may get better someday.

Well, thanks for keeping me company tonight (even though it probably won’t still be Saturday night when you read this).

Meanwhile, I’ve decided to do laundry tomorrow instead.

And if anyone has any suggestions on things to do that don’t involve being among the unruly masses for extended periods of time, let me know.