So recently, Alex decided that we needed to make some friends. While I totally and completely agree with him, I usually don’t like to leave my house. If I am in a social situation, I usually like to have one or ten drinks to ensure that I stay interesting. And also less anxious because I get very nervous in social situations.
So Alex invited one of his coworkers and his wife out. I’ve been out with this particular couple before, and it ended up with me hitting on his coworker’s now wife. Lucky for me, she had no recollection of me hitting on her. Which was a huge lifesaver.
We went to a casino buffet for the seafood buffet, and naturally, we all ate around ten pounds of crab legs. Half way through the meal, it felt like we were starting to run out of stuff to talk about, and somehow the topic of my degree program popped up. In case any of you were unaware, I’m finishing up my Bachelor’s in Criminal Justice-Human Services currently. I’m trying to drop a bunch of weight to be a probation officer, but heaven knows how well that’s going to work out for me. But all in all, I’m working on it.
I was asked what interested me in criminal justice and I told them that instead of watching Disney movies and cartoons and girly movies like most girls, I watched Crime documentaries. Not CSI, I mean I was watching Cold Case Files, Deadly Women, and so on. I was watching actual documentaries about how people brutally murder people. And I watch that shit like it’s going out of style.
To make things more interesting, when I was talking about how I love watching stuff about how wives murder their husbands, Alex began to tell me to shut the hell up. Several times in fact. He even interrupted me and said, “Leah, this is not proper dinner conversation. Not with people that we’re just starting to get comfortable with.”
I shushed him. “It’s totally fine. You see, thanks to my evidence classes, as well as my criminal law procedure classes, I know how to get away with murder.”
They all just stared at me with this look of intrigue, horror, and curiosity. At least, that’s how I interpreted it. It was either that or they thought I was off my rocker. Either way works. So, since I’m horrible at taking hints when they’re thrown in my face, I continue to tell them how to get away with murder.
“There are so many ways to make it look like an accident. For instance, let’s say Alex was a gardener. He was in the garden all the time and he was using fertilizer. All I would have to do is put trace amounts of fertilizer in his water or his food and later doing the autopsy, they’d be like, ‘Oh! He somehow ingested too much fertilizer from gardening! Accidental death!’ and then I’d be collecting on massive life insurance.”
More blank stares.
“But of course, I’d never murder Alex. He’s going to be worth way more in the long run than if I murdered him now.”
Even more blank stares. Finally, Alex speaks up.
“I’m not that good of a gardener. If they find fertilizer in my body, she’s a prime suspect.”
Disclaimer: I want everyone to know that committing murder is not that simple, nor do I endorse it. Murder is bad, y’all. And I love Alex way too much to even consider it. I was sober and panicky about running out of dinner conversation so I talked about murder, because everyone loves to talk about murder. Right?
Ever have a horribly awkward dinner conversation where you nearly wanted to crawl under a rock? Ever say something so incredibly stupid that you wish you could take it back? Let me know in the comments!
Like what you read? Follow me on facebook! I’ll be posting strange news stories and updates!
Questions, comments or concerns? I have an email now! Transplantedtothesouth@gmail.com is my official email for this blog. Feel free to email me anytime about anything in regards to my blog!