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A Little Serial Killer Does a Body Good

I have to tell you about the other man in my life. It's ok, Andy knows all about him. He knows all about how he excites me, thrills me and sometimes even scares me. He knows, too, how this man always leaves me coming back for more. His name is Dexter. He's a forensic blood expert by day and a serial killer by nature. He's chopped up hundreds of bad men and women in the Miami area. And I love him.

I also love Netflix. Just when you are sick of watching ANTM cycle 345, a happy DVD arrives in the mail, it's red envelope boldly pushing its way through the boring and disappointing pile of bills. Their system has solved a great deal of problems in our house because they offer queues for two users. Andy can get Rambo and 28 Days Later and let them sit for weeks before watching and I can get all my faves, from 27 Dresses to The Other Boleyn Girl, without having to take turns with Andy. In addition to movies, you can rent TV series. This is a wonderful, wonderful thing for those of us who feel $100 a month for basic cable is already too much to pay but lust for the dark, quality programs HBO and Showtime have to offer.

After a long day sitting at a computer at work followed by running around the house trying to feed, bathe, undress and redress Caroline, I grab my glass of wine, a piece of chocolate (when desperate, Baker's chocolate microwaved for 10 seconds does the trick). I slip into something comfortable and slip Dexter into the DVD player. I've been through a lot with Dexter. He gives me something nobody else can, sends me on a roller coaster ride of emotion and takes me to a whole new place. I'm addicted to Dexter. Is it his sweet, innocent face? His muscular arms? Or is it the way he carefully hacks his victims into pieces, wraps them in trash bags and dumps them into the ocean?

I know TV is bad for you. I know it makes you dumb. I know watching TV isolates me and means I'm lonely. But sometimes something bad is just so good. And, I'm not out at the bar or smoking or gambling. I'm just enjoying a little fantasy time. What's the harm in that?

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