if you have a motive for murdering lantern flies whenever you see them, does that make you a serial killer?
asking for a friend
Alright first of all are we KIDDING with this question from my weekly trivia night???!!!?!!?!!
It’s almost as if it’s rigged to only be questions that I would be able to answer in a life-or-death situation. What an interesting theory …… haha there’s no way …… unless?
ANYWAY do we all remember how I think my mom is lying about being deaf? Right, right we all remember. So I get a FaceTime call very early in the morning from my mom who is currently staying in a cabin in Wisconsin with her girlfriend — my mom tends to only like to FaceTime me if she knows she’s waking me up when she does it. But THIS time, she called in a PANIC because they both kept hearing (feeling) a very loud sound in the cabin that they couldn’t quite figure out. So they both wanted moi to listen to it. So then my dearest mother proceeds to step in a specific spot, which causes a very loud creaking noise. So I ask her to do it again. And then I ask her if the floors are made of wood. And the birthgiver says, and I quote, “Yes.” It was very obviously … the wooden floor creaking. Sometimes, I think my mom really needs to listen better because occasionally she can prove that she’s deaf really easily. But also this woman grew up in New England; does she really think she can convince me that she DIDN’T know the wooden floor was creaking? As if not every single building in New England has a wooden floor? Caught her in another lie YET AGAIN. She won’t get away with it this time.
I am very confident in the fact that my mom can survive this world as a deaf woman without the help of anyone hearing, but if this was a life or deaf — whoops typo I meant life or death — situation, and my mom had to find a toy that was making noises in a pile of toys, the funeral would be tomorrow.
Welcome to the scene of a crime that yours truly committed earlier in the week. This punk thought it would trick me with its dotted wings and red suit of armor, but alas, tricks are for kids. I have killed many a lantern fly, but this one was different. It caused me to become a serial lantern fly killer. I now have a motive — a backstory, if you will, for why I do it. It’s the only way I as a vegan can feel good about my homicides. It’s kind of like Dexter. In this murder’s story, the lantern fly was named Roger, and he killed The Giving Tree. And I knew that if I didn’t step on him immediately with my Birkenstocks, he would go off and tell the others about where to find the boy who was friends with The Giving Tree and kill him, too. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing I allowed this possibility, so I destroyed Roger before it was too late — but not before I let him know that if his boys ever tried to come ‘round these parts again, they’d be seeing the left Birkenstock which is more horrifying and stronger and braver and cuter than the right.
We can’t allow these lantern flies to kill our trees, everyone. Because who knows what will come next? Perhaps the kids who climb those trees? Or the koalas who hang from them? Or whatever else you find in a public park, other than kids and koalas? What do you mean I’m at the zoo and not a public park? You’re kidding! I’ve been standing inside the monkey house at the Central Park Zoo for how many days now? And you’re saying that they’ve taken me in as one of their own? Because I saved their trees from Roger and his lantern fly gang? And now I can’t leave the monkey house because it will ruin the energy of the room, and as a Pisces, I legally cannot ruin that energy? Wow. Nature sure is beautiful.
My friend sent this to me this morning, and I HAD to throw it in here:
There are so many things we need to address here. First of all and second of all, why did they choose a photo of Malala with Anna Kendrick? Those are my first two points. Thirdly, was there nothing going on in the news that day? Did the Editor-in-Chief feel like Variety would go under if they didn’t get a quote about the age-old Titanic debate from a Nobel Peace Prize winner? Also and lastly, where was Malala when she gave this quote? Who asked her this question? And where? And why? And how? And whomst? Ok, that’s all!
I sent this to my manager the other day:
She most likely did not fire me from it since I’m actually 25 and not 26, so it really is child labor.
Well, right as it became the official day of fall — a day created by Jesus because God whispered to him that fall will start on September 21 sometimes September 22 — the weather dramatically changed. The swimsuits were put away, and the turtlenecks came rumbling in. Not complaining; I love a turtleneck. But I am being strong and not turning the heat on in my room, yet, because it is literally the ninth of October. What that means is that when it’s 45 degrees outside in the morning, it is 35 degrees in my room. It’s NOT gonna get me, folks. Okay, I’ve just realized that I don’t own a brown turtleneck, which is so annoying because that’s my color of the season. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be wearing right now. BLACK? Predictable, Kerry. Who do you think you are, Steve Jobs The Rock Johnson? G R O W U P.
Sorry sorry, that was a conversation between me myself and I and was not meant for the newsletter. What I meant to talk about was how bonkers it is that the weather actually changed on the day it said it would! The temp never actually drops on the first day of Fall, but this time it did! After the hottest summer ever, too! Ugh, what a changing climate we live in, huh? Nature sure is beautiful.
I have been living under the radar (without a state ID) for a few months now, and it’s making me feel very incognito. I lost my driver’s license a little while back and ordered a new one to be ready by the time I got back to Chicago in August. But OF COURSE, the ID was sent to my old house, and the new residents sent it back to the DMV, even though they know their neighbors know us well enough to give us mail that may accidentally get sent to them. NOT complaining, just pondering, ok? Anyway, I tried to go pick it up at the DMV, but it was closed on the Monday that I tried to go, and my flight back to New York was also that Monday. So now I can’t get that ID unless I have a picture of it signed by a notary and give that to my mom to have her go pick it up. But EVERY SINGLE CHASE BANK IN NEW YORK THAT I HAVE GONE TO FOR A NOTARY HAS TOLD ME THEY DON’T HAVE A NOTARY. And whenever I ask if they do, they look at me like it’s the most insane idea for me to have that they would have a notary there. Is that insane? Something in the back of my mind has told me that banks should have notaries. Well, why don’t you just get a New York license, Kerry? THANK YOU so much for the question. I am trying to get a New York license, but I don’t want to have to retake a driver’s test, so I need my Illinois license to show them that I already have a license, and then just need to take a new pic and give a new address and voila chef’s kiss I’m a New York drivah. But God doesn’t want me to have this just yet, it seems. He doesn’t want me to have a brown turtleneck, and he doesn’t want me to have a New York license.
The other night I went to a show and didn’t have my ID but also didn’t bring my passport, and the bouncer asked for my ID. I tried to show him a photo, and he replied, “How am I supposed to scan that?” to which I replied, “Are you scanning IDs tonight?” to which he replied, “No.” to which I replied, “Right, okay.” to which he replied, “Well, just for next time.” to which I replied nothing and just walked in and felt so brave and strong and chic. So perhaps if life keeps working out like that, I can handle not having a physical ID on me for a short while longer. But I truly am beginning to forget who I am. I don’t know what I look like from an ID perspective. And I don’t know my height, or the color of my eyes, or the color of my hair, or if I’m an organ donor. These are things I don’t know. But there is one thing I do know:
In a criminal justice system, sexually-based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.
HAVE A GOOD WEEK, Y’ALL. Bob for apples, bob’s your uncle, pick a pumpkin, drink a cider, eat a donut, watch a movie — preferably Rear Window by Alfred Hitchcock. Or The Woman in the Window starring Amy Adams. They are the exact same movie. You can decide which one has more of an impact on society.
In the words of Academy Award winner slash Grammy award winner slash grandmother in Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again Cher,
LATER.