Saturday, 30 January 2016


Previously I mentioned how I could get away with murder. This is still true. I totally can. I can also tell when someone else has the same ability.

I’ve had the pleasure of knowing an adorable little girl for the last few years:

We will name her Jenny. I’ve seen Jenny grow from an adorable 3 year old, to a super adorable 6 year old and what I’ve learned is:

She is potentially a serial killer

I know I know. I do watch a lot of Investigation Discovery and if you don’t know what that is, check it out here. Please don’t try and get the channel unless you want to:

1.   Become addicted to true crime and murder
2.  Assume everyone in your life is involved in true crime and murder
3.  Eventually assume everyone around you is trying to kill you
4.  Develop a deep rooted concern that everyone around you is a serial killer AND out to kill you

I discovered this show (haha see what I did there? Investigation Discovery? Discovered? Don’t worry, it’ll come to you eventually… carry on) when I was in Mexico in 2013. It was one of the only channels in English, so I watched it when I was in the hotel room. If you didn’t know already, please note I’m pale as fuck:

So I did spend a few hours a day in the hotel room to prevent hideous death sunburn. I subsequently ordered the channel when I returned home so I could continue watching shows basically explaining how horrible humans are.

Due to this, I’ve learned to ID (see? I did it again! Oh I’m hillllllarious) criminals, especially serial killers. Which is why I know this adorable little muffin has the potential to be the best fucking serial killer ever. I have mentioned her in a previous blog but she’s said so many things I just think she deserves a blog dedicated to her.
The first time I babysat her (please note we lived 
in the same house but I was in the basement suite and she was 4), the conversation was like this:

Her: You can't go downstairs til my parents get home
Me: I won't go downstairs
Me: I will not go downstairs
Her: * very quietly* if you go downstairs before they come home, I'm going to pull out all your hair and then you're going to die and you'll have to stay up here with me forever

She laughed, I awkward laughed… And then she had her little fists wrapped around my hair and went "your hair is so pretty. It's like Ariel's." then looked me straight in the eye and went "you should leave it with me." and then started laughing to herself… fists still gripping my locks.

If I die and am missing all of my hair, it’s going to be pretty obvious who did it. But no one would believe it:

Another classic Jenny moment:

Another time (more recently, she was 6) when I babysitting, we were both walking up the stairs and I was tickling her and:

Yup. She’s still got it. She’s moved on from taking all my hair though. Unless that’s a rouse…

With all that being said, having a potential serial killer in the house does have its advantages. I feel that she will be able to keep OTHER serial killers away.

Case and point. I lived alone in my suite, and was in the bath:

That’s right. I caught myself from actually inviting the potential serial killer into the bathroom. Then I frantically started texting my landlord/friend to confirm if she was in the suite. Then logic kicked in.

One serial killer wouldn’t want another serial killer stepping on their turf, right? So the conversation quickly changed to:
Me: Can you send Jenny down? I think there’s a serial killer outside my bathroom door and I have no weapons in here, so it’s probably best she comes down and just takes care of the problem

In my head it would go like this:

Sadly, her mom’s response was:


So I was basically fucked. I spent about 45 minutes in the bathroom texting people to let them know I loved them in case I was killed by the polite serial killer outside the bathroom door who was most likely chilling on my couch waiting for me to come out. Eventually I found some weapons:

A paddle brush and some curl setting spray. Yeaaaaaaaaaah I’d spray and brush (or spank?) the motherfucker. Yes this pic was legitimately from that night, I was concerned it may be the last photo of me ever but I wanted it proven I went down fighting. I sucked it up, came busting out, and:

Empty living room. I checked all the rooms, the deadbolt was still bolted. So I lived another day. Another day closer to the day Jenny may take me out. Until then though, I’m safe. Sorry potential other serial killers. I’m spoken for. And no one will ever believe it if it happens…

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