Living Next to a Serial Killer: A Love Story.

Well, we are about three quarters through the year, and what a year it's been.  We have already survived:


A devastating earthquake,

TO DONATE TO VICTIMS PLEASE CALL ME DIRECTLY

a Kardashian wedding,

DEFINITION OF MINIMALIST

and finally, the breakup of J LO and Marc Anthony .

ACCURATE DEPICTION OF THEIR SEX LIFE.

It says a lot about our nation that we can make it through these devastating tragedies together.  Way to go Team America.

AMERICA... LIKE A BOSS. 

So with that being said...there has been something looming like a dark cloud over my fantastic year of 2011.

 " 'SUP WHIT... TELL ME YOUR TROUBLES." 

I am convinced I live next to a serial killer.



I know I know.  "Yeah right Whit,"  I can hear you all say.  "Don't exaggerate."  I will share with you the following details and you tell ME I won't end up on an episode of Criminal Minds before I'm 30. 

If I go missing, and you find out it's not because I've run away to Hollywood with Vince Vaughn, than please be certain I am probably trapped in a basement and need to be rescued swiftly.

  PLEASE MAKE SURE THE LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICER THAT FINDS ME RESEMBLES THIS MAN.  THANKS.

Chapter One: The Meet and Greet.  

"HEYYYYY NEIGHBS...."

I have two neighbors directly next to my humble little abode.  I am fortunate to have an AWESOME neighbor, we'll call her "Kitty" across the street...and then beside me I have one of the most mysterious and creepy people I have ever encountered. 

The following story is 100% true.  

A few months ago I finally decided to mow my grass (or let's be honest here... get it mowed for me) and have a big oyster roast.  It was legit.  We had tons of food, I went back to college days and made PJ, and the drink ratio was about 20 to 1. 

POP 'DEM BOTTLES

Anyway, that night we all had a ball.  So the next day, a few of those closest to me came back over to finish the rest of the oysters and have a little Sunday Funday.  Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon, chilling out on your back porch with your best friends.  It was all daffodils and unicorn farts until my "other" neighbor peers over the fence and...

PAUSE.

Now let me back up.  The previous day I had walked over to said neighbor's house to inform them that I was having a party.  It's always good to be curtious to your neighbors, and it also helps to have a good rapport so they don't call the cops if it gets a little too loud out back.  Now until this point, I had never met them.  In fact, I had never SEEN them until that weekend.  So I walked over and THIS is what is parked in the front yard...

"HEY KIDS...THERE IS FREE CANDY INSIDE.  ALL ABOARD."

What you cannot see is the windows that are COVERED IN BLACK PLASTIC GARBAGE BAGS.  Cause that's totally legit. 

"I'M ON TO YOU DAHMER" 

So I wander into the front yard, under the massive amounts of brush and thorns guarding the front door... and give a little knockity knock. 

FOR THE SMALL PRICE OF YOUR LIFE YOU CAN TRIM MY NEIGHBOR'S HEDGES! 

So I speak to the mother who was cute as a button.  So nice- told me "No worries, have fun".  Awesome.  So we do.  Rage all night Saturday and we are back for more Sunday afternoon... mid oyster... when this guy peers over the fence...

YEAH, HE'S PROBABLY SINGLE. 

In introduces himself and tries to weasel his way over for a beer and an oyster... no dice Dahmer.  Now, I am polite and a littttttle uncomfortable, but I endure our fence face time because if Criminal Minds has taught me anything, its to NOT piss off your neighbor who could potentially slice you up and turn you into part of his women's suit.  

"OH YOU HAVE A DOG TOO?  WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON." 

So after about ten minutes he wanders back to Creepy Corner and I go back to having fun with my friends.  

Chapter Two: Two Hours Later. 

Creepy McCreepster is back.  With stories.  Great.  He keeps trying to come over and hang out.  I DON'T. THINK. SO. 

Oh and get this... I later discover his name is Chester.  Swear to God. 

IF I FIND OUT HE DRESSES UP LIKE A CLOWN, CONSIDER ME DEAD BY NEXT MONDAY. 

My neighbor then proceeds to disclose some random "facts" about our cul-de-sac.  Because not all of you speak "Serial Killer Lingo" like I do, I will tell you what he said and then tell you what it REALLY means.  

STATEMENT ONE: "Our houses are built on an old Indian burial ground."

DAMN I HOPE THE ANIMALS IN MY BACKYARD TALK LIKE THEY DO IN DISNEY MOVIES. 

WHAT IT ACTUALLY MEANS:

 "Any bones your dog randomly finds in the backyard are 100% from the people I have murdered in the last year but I don't want you to be suspicious." 

"AHHH, YEAH BOB, WE HAVE WHAT APPEARS TO BE A 28 YEAR OLD FEMALE AND AN OLD MICHAEL JACKSON CD OVER HERE." 

STATEMENT TWO: "We have a coyote problem around here." (as he holds up a small ball of platinum blonde hair)

JUST ANOTHER DAY IN THE WILDERNESS OF COLUMBIA SC.

WHAT IT MEANS:

"I have been secretly collecting random strands of your hair and want to scare the shi*t out of you by letting you I have been watching you since you moved in...".

or....

"I have a little girl trapped in my basement and think you're a big enough idiot to believe that coyotes have platinum blonde hair."  

"WHAT. THE. F&CK. IS. GOING. ON. HERE."

STATEMENT THREE: "I used to have a pet wolf back in my shed." 

THIS KIND OF WOLF...

 NOT TALKIN ABOUT JACOB BLACK, TWILIGHT PEOPLE. 

WHAT THAT MEANS: 

"I'm batshit insane." 

YEAH BUDDY, AND I RIDE THIS TO WORK EVERYDAY. 

So after I crapped my pants a little and turned around looking at my friends like there was no tomorrow... they somehow rescued me and got me back to the other side of the yard...away from Ted Bundy II.  

Balls of hair?  Serial killer van? Delusional? Explanation for finding potential body parts? Check. Check. Check. Check. 

"MA'AM, I'M NO SCIENTIST... BUT ALL SIGNS POINT TO YOU BEING SERIAL KILLER BAIT." 

I'm sleeping with one eye open.  Wish me luck friends.

Back To the Gym: Hell Week

I hate running.  I have never, not one day in my existence, thought "oh hey...I'm bored...I think I'll go run!!!" Despite this...it was just something you had to do to stay in shape.  And this is where my story begins. 

THIS IS WORSE THAN A GHOST STORY.

Once upon a time, many many moons ago, I was in great shape. We all were. For those of you who grew up with me in Summerville, SC...you know what I'm talking about.  For those of you who didn't, let me explain.  Summerville is pretty much a breeding ground for athletes.  If you were an athlete, you were working out 2-3 times a day, running stadium stairs in blistering heat everyday of summer, doing sprints with 20 pound tires on your back...the works.  We were all used to it, and if you happened to be especially lucky and be one of our hometown football stars... you were treated like a god.

A TYPICAL LUNCH GREETING FOR OUR STARTING QUARTERBACK

Anywho... back to the story.  So the years of high school passed and we get to college to begin our adult social careers.  Now college was a bit of a strange time for me because I discovered that most of the women walking around campus were absolutely body OBSESSED.  I had never seen anything like it.  It was batshit crazy. Girls didn't work out for 3 hours a day to win games anymore, they worked out for three hours a day because they ate a quarter of a biscuit at breakfast....2 days ago.  

 "PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.  I HAD A SALTINE EARLIER" 

Body issues, thankfully, have never been super high on the list of insecurities for me.  Now, if I am going to sit here and tell you there aren't things I would love to magically change about myself, I would be lying.  I mean, EVERYONE has their grievances.   Would I love to wake up with a six pack?  Duh.  Am I going to never enjoy this to attain it?

NOPE.  NOT IMPORTANT ENOUGH.  

All in all, you'll never see me avoid getting in the water because I'm having a "fat day".  That is so lame.  I'm here to shake my tail feather and be on the lake with the people I love and have a cocktail, not try out for America's Next Top Model.

COULD SOMEONE GET THIS FATASS A COVER UP PLEASE? GEEZ. 

So college passed, we started real jobs, and started all getting a little lazier than we used to be. Which brings us to the present week.  

For those of you who know me, you know I am passionate about several things (in no particular order) 

The people I love 

Michael Jackson songs 

Kids

Movies

Karaoke

My piano 

Checkers (the drive thru, NOT the board game)

Vince Vaughn

Pasta 

The ocean

Cocktails

Gamecocks

Painting

Tropical weather 

Music 

My pug

Medieval Times 

...to name a few.  

Notice that nowhere on that list was running, jogging, sprinting, or anything of the like. 

So when I was driving back from a movie the other night and passed Gold's Gym for the millionth time, I had to suck it up.  I knew there was no excuse anymore to not be a member of a gym that is less than 2 blocks from my house.  Soooooo.... I pulled in.  

WHAT GOLD'S LOOKS LIKE WHEN YOU HAVEN'T CONSISTENTLY WORKED OUT IN FIVE YEARS. (WELL....MAYBE SIX) 

So I get there, thinking "hey I'll join, go a couple times a week (or year)... and call it a day."  As I'm on my tour of the gym (my old gym was New Life so I had never been in a Gold's) divine intervention happened.  

HO. LY. CRAP. 

This became the start of a beautiful love story with the gym....and my road to redemption after years of fun laziness. 

DAY ONE

It's 5:00 AM, and my ass is out of bed and ready to go.  Naturally, I look beautiful at five in the morning.

 "HEYYYY SEXY"

I'm exhausted, because I never sleep.  I head to the gym (drive, of course, let's not get too out of control on the first day and walk) and get inside.  It's nearly empty.  I enjoy this because it will give me a chance to explore the place without looking like a total creeper.


I walk into the Cardio Cinema and witness what may as well be the only saving grace in my road to redemption.... Trickery.

 "HA HA, YOU DUMBASS!!! YOU WON'T EVEN KNOW YOU ARE WORKING OUT!" -MY BRAIN

This is the greatest combination of things I've ever seen.  Fact: If you want to get me to do anything, better involve either a movie or cocktails.  Since drinking at the gym would sort of defeat the purpose of going, movies are the next best thing.  A movie workout room!!! BRILLIANT!!!

I hop on the machine.  Of course, I'm overzealous and not paying attention because a movie is on, so an hour and a half later, the movie is over and my workout is done.  I'm sweating my ass off, but it wasn't so bad.

     I AM GOING TO LOOK LIKE THIS BEFORE THE WEEKEND IS OVER. 




DAY TWO, 5:00 AM

I can barely move.  My legs feel like concrete from me thinking I was some kind of Olympian while watching Flags of Our Fathers on the big screen the day before. 
I head to the kitchen, swallow some aspirin like I'm Anna Nicole Smith, and debate finding a junkie and stealing morphine from him to ease the pain.  This must be what rigamortis feels like. 

Back to the gym. 

5:30 AM- Elliptical machines

I am sweating like a whore in church and somehow end up next to a man who feels the need to grunt every 30 seconds.  I'm having trouble holding it together and not smacking the hell out of him. 

"EXCUSE ME SIR.  SHUT. THE. F&CK. UP." 

There is no need for all that gym drama.  Especially when I am tired, incapable of fully extending my legs, and trying to find something decent to watch on the tv in front of me.  This is not the time to grunt sir. Shut it.

DAY TWO: 5:30 PM

I get bored at the house.  Time for a movie at the gym. 

Workout number two of the day goes better than I expected.  I think maybe at this point my muscles have just given up hope of recovering.  I feel good.  Hit the hydromassage afterwards.  Totally dig that. 

DAY THREE 5:30 AM

Lord help me.  I feel less like this...

and more like this....

DAY THREE 5:30 PM

I run into my sister in law.  She wants me to get on board with her trainer and do a session with her to "keep each other motivated"  I agree, of course before investigating.  Soooooo naturally, the day with the trailer is LEG DAY.

DEAR. GOD. NO.

5:45 PM

3 squats in, I am debating hitting the trainer over the head with the weight I'm holding and crawling out of the gym.  This was a terrible idea.  My sister in law still seems motivated.  Good for her.  She didn't do an hour and a half on the elliptical machine right before this session.  No, I am the only dumbass who did that. 

5:50 PM

Time for ab work.

THE FUN NEVER ENDS. 

I am working out muscles I forgot I had.  My sister is law is hurting too so in some sick way that makes me feel better because she's in much better shape than I am.  Clearly, this trainer thinks we are more than mere mortals.  Please let this end.

It ends. 

9:30 PM

I hop (crawl) into the bath with some hope of relaxing muscles that are as stiff as a week old corpse.  No relief.

DAY FOUR 6:00 AM

The bottom of my feet feel like I have been walking across lava for shits and giggles.  I am not amused. I head to the gym, praying I won't land next to the "excessive grunter" again.  I don't, thank the Lord. 

I work out in peace, alone with the silent screams my muscles make.  At least a good movie is on. 

OK, MAYBE NOT "GOOD" MOVIE.

DAY FIVE: Current Time

My body feels like jello, but it's not as bad as the previous day.  My body has accepted it's fate.  As long as there are movies playing at Gold's, my ass is going to be there.  If I happen to get a better body out of the deal, so be it. 

I guess I need to really focus and give up what is preventing me from getting the six pack I am destined to have before the end of the month. 

NO WAY.

Looks like the six pack will remain a distant dream, because the wine isn't going anywhere. 

Happy workouts folks, see you at the gym. 

Three Terrifying Things About Summer : A Survival Guide.

Well folks, it's my favorite time of year again.  Time to break out the tanning oil, beer, and baseball games: Summer is here.  Although the majority of summer is filled with awesome things like dollar vodka and days on the lake, there are some things about summer that are looking to ruin your life.  Don't worry, I am here to help. 

NO WORRIES.  I KNOW WHAT TO DO. 

 

Growing up in South Carolina I learned very quickly to adapt to summer's obstacles, something you must do from a young age or you will surely die. 

Here is a helpful guide to help you get through all of the South's most horrifying elements of Summer. 

1.)  The Florescent Light Effect 

Well ladies, we all know how this one breaks down.  Department stores, with their innate sense of what women want, fill their stores with the hottest new suits of the season.  We flock there, ready to slip into some cute little number and do a slow motion run down the beach Pamela Anderson style.  

5 OUT OF 5 MEN AGREE SHE HAS A BETTER PERSONALITY THAN YOU DO.

So, we grab two or three suits in our favorite color and head to the dressing room, daydreaming of the boat trip we have next week and what kind of ridiculous cocktails we are going to make with the local summer fruit selection.  It's all unicorns and lollipops until....

 OH...SHIT. 

The dressing rooms, conveniently located somewhere between Self Esteem Street and Bulimia Boulevard, are adequately lit up with enough florescent lighting to trigger a blackout.  Gentlemen, you probably don't try on your bathing suits, so let me explain.  The lighting in these dressing rooms is the most repulsive, vile, unflattering lighting you could possibly create.  It's like being half naked in a Walmart.  Every flaw is magnified appoximently four thousands times what your self esteem can handle.  You know what I'm talking about girls...

EVEN IF YOU LOOKED LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE, 

YOU LOOK LIKE THIS IN THAT DRESSING ROOM.  

 

 

 

 

How do you avoid this situation? 

Step 1.)  In your most awesome ninja uniform, sneak to the main power line of the department store and cut off the power.  

Step 2.)  Enter department store, grab bathing suits you wanted to try on and enter the dressing room.  

Step 3.)  Light the small candle you convientently keep on your ninja tool belt.  Candle light makes everyone look better, after all.  

 

 

 

MAKE NO MISTAKE, ONLY CANDLELIGHT MAKES LOOKING AT THESE WOMEN REMOTELY BAREABLE.  

 

 

 

Step 4.)  Try on bathing suit. 

Step 5.) Evaluate, and sneak back out with suits, since the registers are down and you don't have time to wait.  Summer waits for no one.

 

 

 

 

 

 NOT EVEN CHUCK NORRIS LOOKS GOOD IN FLORESCENT LIGHTS.  

 

When lit by candlelight in the dressing room you don't notice all the physical and emotional scars from.... 

2.)  The Cullens of the South: Mosquitoes. 

 

I recently spent a day last week with one of my best friends chatting it up on his back deck for a few hours over a few cold beers.  It was delightful.  Then suddenly, just as the sun was setting and the crickets blissfully began their cheerful churps, I was attacked.  

 

 

 

 

NOT BY A BEAR, BUT IT SURE FELT LIKE IT.

There I was, minding my own business, when approximately 1,546,345,543 (give or take two) diesease spreading, blood sucking mosquitoes came down on me like the wrath of God and proceeded to feast on my flesh and soul until I was on the brink of death.  

 

 

 

THEY WERE ALL ABOUT THIS BIG.  

 

 

 

 

Did you know that mosquitoes are responsible for more deaths than every other animal on earth COMBINED?   Let me repeat....

MOSQUITOES. ARE. RESPONSIBLE. FOR. MORE. DEATHS. THAN. EVERY. OTHER. ANIMAL. ON. EARTH. COMBINED.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

THOSE BASTARDS.

 

 

 

 

I would have let Mother Nature help me with the pressing issue that night, but that would have meant I would have to endure the company of the mosquitoes archenemy, and my absolute worst nightmare: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  I WOULD RATHER DIE.

How do you solve this problem? 

Step 1.)  Buy bug repellent.  

or...

 

 

Alternative Step One if bug repellent is not available, you can convieniently cover yourself in:  

 

 

 

 

  NOT RECOMMENDED AT PARTIES WITH SMOKERS.

If you choose to get in the water instead of being eaten alive on shore...oh wait....

3.) Nevermind... Mother Nature has the predator for you! 

 

 

 THANKS, MOTHER NATURE!

 

 There is nothing like stepping into the crystal clear (eh hemm) murky waters of the Atlantic Ocean and wonder if just a few feet next to the sea shell you're eying is...

 

"OH HEY GUYS, DON'T MIND ME, I'M JUST HERE TO DEVOUR YOU. NO BIGGY." 

I love the ocean.  I'm sure most of you do.  I trot my tailfeather down there every chance I get to go jump in those big gorgeous waves.  But do not be fooled, there is shit in every square inch of that water that is waiting to sting/irritate/eat/wound/poke/bite/fillet you.  Thankfully, you can avoid a shark attack by doing the following:

Step 1.)  Spot the demon and look him directly in his souless, black eyes.  (It's important to establish a rapport)

Step 2.)  Wait for him to come to you. Like in boxing, better to let your opponent tire himself out. 
Step 3.) Grab his fin, and mount his back, just as he is going for the fatty flesh in your upper thigh.  

HE DIDN'T LISTEN TO MY INSTRUCTIONS.

Step 4.)  Guide him with your super in-shape hips to shore.  If he is giving you any trouble, just dig a little with your heels into his side.  This should help with his attitude problem.  

 

 

JUST PICTURE RIDING THIS GUY, EXCEPT HE'S ABOUT 1000 LBS HEAVIER, WITH BIGGER TEETH.  

 

 

 

Step 5.)  Once he beaches himself under your relentless command, dismount and proceed to go take shots (boys, you could get laid by the hot lifeguard) in celebration of how ridiculously awesome you are.  I mean, you're a shark cowboy.  You can do whatever the hell you want. 

JUST ANOTHER DAY AT THE BEACH. 

If you are too lazy to be a shark cowboy like me, I recommend the art of disguise while in the water.  

 STRIKING FEAR IN THE HEARTS OF SHARKS EVERYWHERE. 

I purchased this shark repelling costume in both a medium and a large, you know, just in case I'm having a real "fat day" after leaving a dressing room.  

Welcome to Summer.  Hope you survive.