That’s it! I have officially banned myself from declarations of regular posting. Because. I. Keep. Falling. Through. Like seriously. Why is it that I can complete everything in my life to a regular pre-ordained schedule, but when it comes to blog posting – that shit goes out the window?!
So guess what? Now, I’m going to post whenever I am inspired to post, and that, dear readers, is now.
Anyone who read my last post will know that I have recently become obsessed with the podcast, My Favorite Murder. Because a) true crime and b) it’s hilarious. What I failed to mention was that admits the teachings of ‘fuck politeness’ and ‘stay sexy, don’t get murdered’ they provide minisodes in which they read murderino’s hometown murders. Now, I (un)fortunately don’t have any of these terrifying tales of brushing shoulders with serial killers to tell. Nor does anyone in my family, I haven’t like asked or anything so it’s just a bold faced assumption. What I do have is way too many tales that fit under the category of: ‘how did I not get murdered?’
So here I provide to you, for your reading pleasure, a tale of my stupidity.
In my first year of university, between the last week of classes and our first exam – one of my friends and I travelled from our small city to a much bigger city to see the touring production of Les Mis. Now when I say first year of university, I am talking 17. We were 17 and only partially supervised. So we were two 17, small country city girls in capital city taking cabs on our own. Which is fine, until your 17 year old brains have convinced you that it’s a good idea to go from the theatre to the after party, leaving only 2 hours of designated rest time before catching said cab. Then not actually using this designated rest time to, you know, sleep and hop into a taxi at 4am having been awake for over 24 hours.
Let me remind you that we hailed from a city that takes a literally 15 minutes drive to cross. We were 17, and in no way familiar with this city. And instead of jumping into a taxi alert and aware of possible dangers. We fell asleep. We both conked out like 5 minutes into the trip. All I’m saying is thank fuck we woke up at the airport and not in some side murder road in whoop whoop.
So yeah. Please don’t fall asleep in taxis in unfamiliar cities, because all you need is the driver to be a psycho and you’ve earned yourself a cab ride to murderville.
So there you have it. One of my many ‘how did I not get murdered’ stories. Let me know what dumb crime/horror movie shit you’ve done.
Nerdy murderino out. 👋🏻