Usually, they're not very good at it either--like, this one guy killed his wife and daughter, and then brought their bodies into work in cardboard boxes and his co-workers saw him pushing these heavy boxes into the dumpster and said he was in a really bad mood. Don't bother me! I'm trying to dispose of these bodies. It's my lunch hour! And then this other guy who killed his wife and then cut her up and boiled her in giant pots to get rid of her corpse bit by bit (he was a chef, what do you expect) and so how do you get to that level of detachment where you could be either smashing your dead wife into a cardboard box or cutting her up with the knives she bought you on your birthday? Because the other thing I think is that not all of these people are crazy--I mean, they're delusional and their probably in shock and panicked and not in a normal state of mind, but not everyone who kills is certifiable; we just want to think that because it's easier to swallow the idea that they were just not normal; we don't want to think of ourselves as being capable of the same kind of act, because if this normal guy could do it, that means you could or I could or the person you're sleeping next to could. Is it worse to think that you could actually kill someone or that your partner could? Worse to think that you could; I think. Luckily, these women who are murdered often keep diaries that the detectives discover but the husbands never knew about where they write things like, I worry Ted might decapitate me if I suggest a divorce or Bobby's been kind of moody lately and our dog is missing. Or they say to their friends, If I turn up missing, Joe did it. Like, get out. Get out of the relationship the second you think that your partner might KILL YOU. I understand it's not that easy for most, but honestly, how could you live with that kind of fear around you all the time.
Okay, TBT, again, two years late to the meme. These are more in a series of pictures from children's theater. Just so you understand it wasn't all that glamorous, here I am in the costume I hated to wear most because it made me look like a walking Trojan or a tube of toothpaste. This is me as the Velveteen Rabbit. The head of the costume weighed like five pounds alone and gave me a headache. The bottom of the costume was a hoop that touched the ground because I wasn't supposed to be able to look anything like a real rabbit, to set us all up for the transformation that happens when the Velveteen Rabbit becomes a real rabbit, which, incidentally, only happens after he is burned up in a fire after his owner gets typhoid fever or something.
This is how I looked when I was walking around without the costume. The set behind me was designed by my boyfriend at the time. I still have that larger than life Raggedy Ann doll too. My boyfriend then put his initials "T.B." on the blocks. He was silly like that. Amazing jean shorts, don't you think? I wore those until they frayed. I think they're coming back in style.
And this is T.B. and me for Halloween. He went around saying, "I'm a pirate!" all night in this weird joking voice. For the record, he does not really have a mustache or a soul patch. He was a good guy and I loved him lots, but he was also eight years older than me and ready to settle down in Florida and I wanted nothing more than to get out of Florida. He's not on Facebook, but I did find pictures of him there through someone else; I don't know if he ever had kids, but he should have. He was great with them.