10 Reasons I Do NOT Want To Get Murdered. yet.

Please Don't Murder Me. yet.

I have determined thus: Just because they gave me a driver’s license does not mean I am qualified to use it.

Last week, I managed to keep an engagement to visit a friend. Who recently moved into the city. Cities make me feel like I am a side character in a Mad Max movie. There is a madness, an all-out, cut-you-off-at-the-knees-while-driving  Rat Race for getting there before anyone else, when the only place you’re going is deeper into a post-apocalyptic world of brazen insanity populated with bad cars and fugly-ish people. The decrepit housing looks like boxing for humans, rat boxes, mice cages in a lab. A Mad Scientists Lab. Some crazy jackwad who is experimenting on the human race, shocking it, training it, pushing it to its psychopathic limits.

Rat Boxing for Humans

I got to the Talcony-Palmyra bridge alright, with a little help from my friend – Map Quest. The thing about obtaining directions from a reliable source, like a friend, or Map Quest, is that you may assume the “getting there” directions will be exactly the same as the “Leaving there” directions. In most cases, like normal living environments, such as towns, or rural places, this would be true. But in the violent traffic mayhem that is the inner city, this notion is remarkably WRONG.

Which is to say, I got lost.

And then. It began to rain.

It's NOT Always Sunny in Philadelphia

So now, not only do I not know where I’m going. But I can’t see either. 

I pulled into a side street and phoned my friend to come and find me, please… As I sat in my locked, un-armoured car, waiting to be rescued, I studied the mock humanity veering towards me from the grey, cracked streets, blowing towards me like trash, lowered heads shrouded in hoodies. Certain relevant facts ticked through my mind. Especially this one: 

There are 400 murders a year in Philadelphia.

I sat there in my locked car thinking about how I do not want to get murdered. Then, to keep my paranoia in check while waiting for the rescue squad to show up, I nervously scratched out the following list: 

10 Reasons I Do Not Want To Get Murdered


  1. I left home without washing the dishes. I can’t let them catch me with a dirty sink. And dead people can’t do dishes. dammmmit.

  2. My underwear is definitely clean. But of questionable vintage.

  3. I have so much to live for. Like – I haven’t used up my Social Security benefits yet. I, for one, do not want to die without getting things evened up with the government. They owe me and I want it all back.

  4. The lawn needs mowing. Well, that actually kinda makes me look forward to getting murdered. just a little.

  5. I’ll never find out who wins “America’s Got Talent”. Of course, this also means I am spared the agony of watching the despicable Howard Stern express his worthless opinions. Score another one for gettin’ murdered.

  6. I’ll miss my new, 32 inch flat screen TV.  But if I get murdered and die, I’ll probably get to come back as a ghost, and watch my favorite shows on other people’s better, 52 inch flat screen TVs.  (LIFE: + 2 pts, GETTIN’ MURDERED: +3 pts)

  7. I’ll miss all of my spring flowers blooming. But then, of course, I’ll see all the blooming flowers a girl could want. Laid out over my grave when I’m six feet under and ‘pushin’ up daisies’. ( GETTIN’ MURDERED:+4pts)

  8. I want to live to a ripe, old age and die peacefully in my bed. But I was probably gonna die a slow agonizing death, anyway, like from cancer or an obstructed bowel. That explodes all over my sheets while I’m Sleeping. And then the cops break into my house and take pictures of me for the final death report, and someone puts it up on Facebook. Which would be humiliating, even if I was dead. (GETTIN’ MURDERED: +5 pts.)

  9. I’ve yet to write the Great American Novel. But if I get killed now, nobody can rightly say I failed. (GETTIN’ MURDERED: +6 pts.)

  10. I’ve never been to Paris. But they would’ve hated me there, anyway.

                                                                       .    .    .    .    .

Once I realized there were worse things than getting murdered, I plucked right up and felt cheerful again. There was nothing left to fear. I drove *home, drank a bottle of wine and made up a brand new list:


I wrote it all in pencil. That way I can erase names and add new ones as necessary. Or maybe I’ll just expand my list a little, ya know, to like, THE TOP TWENTY PEOPLE…or even the TOP 400. I don’t even think I know 400 people. But I’d consider taking cheap shots at complete strangers. Like, the ones who beeeep! and scream at me while I’m preoccupied with getting lost in traffic in an unfamiliar part of the city. Afterall, if I can’t contribute to society in a positive, meaningful way, at least I can help cull the herd a little.

I Got Lost Here

Getting UnLost: The Speedline Train over Walt Whitman Bridge

* Incidentally, it took me 2½ hours to get home – what should have been about a half an hours drive. The reason I do not travel into the depths of cities to begin with. I think I need more country friends. 


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Categories: 4 LAFFS, Memoirs | Tags: , , , , , | 35 Comments

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35 thoughts on “10 Reasons I Do NOT Want To Get Murdered. yet.

  1. When you have evened things out with the government, the dishes are washed, and you’re quietly drifting off to eternal sleep in fashionable undies, surrounded by lovely spring flower bouquets and bathed in proper soft pink lighting, remember this: Please don’t watch my tv. That scene from Poltergeist scared the bejeebers outta me.

    • Well put – you’ve described my final moments to artful perfection; I want an attractive death bed scene, to be burned into the minds of all who ever knew me..

      As for keeping my life promises on into eternal mortemis, I cannot say for sure that I will. If you have cable, a nice fireplace and comfy plush throw blankets, I am afraid I will be visiting you often and enjoying your TV. But I can promise to try and be onobtrusive about it.

      P.s. until then, please keep stocked up on current TV Guides, for my viewing convenience.

  2. OH, my god, yes. I hate hate hate going into any city. And in Maine, our ‘cities’ are really just small towns compared to Philly. I live close to Lewiston and it’s the armpit of Maine, just scary with crackhouses, hookers all over the place and of course, I got lost one night and it was raining (why is it always raining?!)
    Your number 4 made me laugh so hard. Oh, and number 9 is the perfect way for me to get out of writing a novel. thank you!!

    • You must have a Huge lawn! lol. My grass just grows too fast, and that interferes with my fashionable view of myself as a lady of liesure. Nothing is less sexy than a woman in old pajamas mowing the lawn and swearing to herself. Or talking to herself. either/Or.

      Yeah – come to think of it…why is it always raining?

  3. All is not lost (no punn intended) atleast you got a blog out of it. As I said, let me come and pick you up. You will see how easy it is to get here and also what a really nice area I am in. I do understand the anxiety of being lost. And I do appreciate the effort you made to come and see me.

    • I could meet you where Levick turns onto McGee…that’s where all hell broke loose. I’ll get there… but it would be nice to have an armoured car, just in case. Also, I appreciate your patience.

  4. Well Specta, you just perfectly described all of the reasons after being born, raised, and employed in the Philly burbs I moved to the coast of southern Maine… it’s civilized and moves at a sensible rate of speed…

    • It must be nice to live in a place where the only murders are roadkill and bugs on your windshield. Philly is just frenetic! But so is L.A., New York, Boston, etc. All cities I found better to avoid. San Franciso is the exception. About the only crime you’ll see there are violent insults against your fashion sense.

  5. I have no sense of direction, so I got GPS when I bought my car six years ago. But that’s caused my directional skills to deteriorate even further. At this point, I consider myself lucky I don’t get lost on my way to the front door.

    • I await the day when we can just telepathically project ourselves to wherever we need to go, while resting comfortably in bed. I know I need to get me somma dat GPS smack soon; the savings in misspent gas alone would pay for it.

  6. Elephant's Child

    I’m sorry Spectra. This is going to sound harsh. You are in no danger of being murdered.
    Think about it. After each murder the press interview the family and friends (if any) and/or neighbours of the recently deceased. Who will all say ‘I cannot understand it. She was such a lovely lady. Nobody could possibly have a bad thing to say about her’.
    Which led me to the conclusion that while I will undeniably die, I am safe from being murdered. At any given moment there are certainly people who could say bad things about me. The fact that they would be wrong is irrelevant. And, I am pretty certain this also applies to you. Murderers we may become (justifiably), murder victims? No way, no how.

    • That’s true. The assholes always survive. Just take a look at all those post-apocolyptic, dark, end-of-times movies; totally populated by all the morons. And they always seem to take advantage of the nice people (if any do survive) because it’s important to be important.

      Well, just in case, I’m still working on my new kill list. If they find me face down in a gutter and start an investigation into my demise, they are going to find my list comes in pretty handy for narrowing down the suspects.

      Now I think I have a new idea; FRAME people I don’t like for my murder. In advance. just in case.,,

      • Elephant's Child

        I rest my case. Framing people for your murder is just one of the reasons you won’t be murdered. Perhaps we could swap names on our kill lists though…

        • Like that movie plot” two strangers meet on a train and kill each others wives,or mothers-in-laws, or bosses. No one will ever suspect us or be the wiser. They’ll never think to check our computer histories…

  7. When I was little, my father had a game where he let me choose “which way next?” and he’d go that way. I had to find our way back. I often appreciate this game when I am in the car, because I really can always find my way out of a tough spot.

    My mother, who was usually with us, had less appreciation for the game. She always worried we would be murdered somewhere in the Bronx, because we seemed to play the game most frequently when driving from CT to NYC!

    • I’m on your Mothers side on this, and yet I think your father was a very practical man – taking the fear out of getting lost and turning it into an adventure for you is brilliant parenting.

  8. I hate driving in the rain. I especially hate driving in the rain in the dark.

    Did you make the doll in that first pic?

  9. I’m the worst driver ever.
    In the history of the world.
    Just FYI.
    Anyway, happy you were able to get ‘un-lost’, Spectra. Sounds like the wrong kind of excitement. And no matter what the list says getting murdered is always a bit of bummer. :)

  10. I wish I could come up with 10 reasons I don’t want to get murdered. It might be useful to have a list ready so when a murderer approaches you can read him the long list and even if he doesn’t change his mind, the police may arrive during the hour it takes you finish.

    • LOL – darn good strategy. May every one who in the future seeks out this post for advice on how to not get murdered, find your reliable diversion technique useful. Well…unless they get murdered first while waiting for the post to download to their Iphone.

  11. I am a fan of lists and this one might just take the cake.

  12. I think you’re smart to be extra cautious when driving in the city. Did you hear about these 2 people driving in Norfolk VA who were taken from their car and beaten up? http://www.foxnews.com/on-air/oreilly/2012/05/03/outrage-brews-over-reporters-mob-beatings
    Sorry – not funny, I know. On the other hand, your 10 reasons to not get murdered are hysterical! Love your doll, too. It’s really, really beautiful and creepy.

    • I checked out your link; here is the follow up:


      It’s truth I think we’ve just gotten used to; the news media only seek to agitate public reaction if it’s an in-the-bag topic, and reverse discrimination is not firey enough to warrant coverage. That it happened to 2 reporters, and the paper didn’t publicize the crime, and the police have refused to release the 911 tapes is baffling.

      As for the doll (thanks), I create things that a different audience might like; I myself have no interest in buying goth, voo doo or zombie themed-anything ;)

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  14. I’ve had this post sitting in my queue for week, and I’m so glad I read it today. Hilarious. I ‘m right there with you. I can get lost in a paper bag. I’ve been known to pull over, breakdown in tears and have a good panic sob before I drive deeper into lostdom. Of course, add a bit of time to flinch when the bums weave up to the window, pound on it yelling, “You Lost?”, and then they spit on the window because I won’t roll it down. The man who lives in my Garmin has helped me immensely, now if he could just parallel park.

    • LOL – I do the same thing – get more and more lost. On the upside of logic, I just priced GPS devices this morning at Staples. Pricey $$$

      You should read the link Peg posted, above. Makes ya think.

    • Now Barb, wait just a minute. Wait just one dad gum minute. If you get lost so easily how did you end up in Two-Pan?

  15. That doll is FANTASTIC. Such talent. You can write, sew, create pots and jewelry. You’re a renaissance woman.

    • Thank you so much, Barb. That style of doll is what’s popular out there right now, so I strived to give the ladies what they want. I hope to keep getting better :)

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