I turned in the Ted Bundy book today along with a book by a psychiatrist about Casey Anthony's supposed mind. Really inspiring stuff. JK (I feel like I have to say that now, like when I was 10 and said "JK! haha" after every instant message in case the pedophile thought I really meant it. JK!). After discussing the Bundy book and mentioning dramatically how I'm relieved to be finished, the same coworker who recommended it listed a few more serial crime books I should read. I gave her the side eye.

When I was reading about Ted Bundy and thinking about serial killers in general my usual "You are so cute I just want to chop your head off and carry it around with me all day and throw it up in the air," and "I'm going to eat your toes as snacks in the middle of the night," hung self consciously in the air, as I realized that there are creep ass motherfuckers who actually do these things, albeit not from a place of giddy love. I made a mental note that, even if I'm mad after a fight over cake, I should not threaten to leave my husband's head in the restaurant while I go home to play his video games anymore.After learning that Bundy's bite mark on a victim's bottom was a crucial piece of evidence that led to his long overdue guilty verdict, I stopped telling Eugenio "Ima bite your hairy butt," no matter how much it appeared to be standing at attention, saluting me, begging for attention. Fretting over this new self consciousness, if a bit tongue in cheek, I wished I could go back to my innocence, a time when expressing a desire to chop off my husband's head was merely the sweetest of thoughts unclouded by images of the basest of serial murder.

But, meh. I'm almost over it. I'm moving on to saccharine shit and memoirs that don't involve murders for awhile to abate the horrors in my mind and regain the ability to tell my husband how I really feel. There really is no other way to accurately express how lovely I think my husband's face is. It's so cute I'd like to carry it as a purse. Sit it on my desk to poke at it throughout the day. I can't let the fear of misconstruction keep me from expression. I will not let Ted Bundy win. I will not.