Scared Straight

As we so often see here at CTM, I am at times a mean little cuss (I say little only because I was able to fit into a pair of pants I figured probably wouldn't even button, much less zip and look cute. The old girl still ain't what she used to be, though.). I blame genetics for this issue because my mother, too, is a mean little cuss (and, at 5ft. tall she actually is little and I think probably getting littler everyday). After having weeks like the one I just had where I get all crazy on someone, I sometimes have to remind myself that all this meanness may one day get my hateful old butt in trouble and land me in a place I would not enjoy living out my days. So, I watch shows about women in prison. In all honesty, sometimes when I watch that Oxygen channel show "Snapped" it's when I'm mad at whomever I may be dating at the time and I want to scare them with stories of women who stabbed their partners to death with the steak knife they forgot to put in the dishwasher-again. But mostly, it's to remind myself that there are no cute outfits or hair dye in prison.

Saturday night after taking Max trick-or-treating (Grace bailed on me because I think she was scared that if any little boy looked at her Marilyn Monroe costume lovingly, I would scream at him to look at the ground and maybe body slam him), I decided to watch "Locked Up" on MSNBC where they were profiling the Valley State Prison for Women. Yeah, I totally don't want to go there. Not even to visit. Those women made a weapon using a pen and some cellophane. I feel creative because I view my cast iron skillet as a weapon, but making a weapon to stab someone with using only a pen and some cellophane requires actual creativity. I'd get ballpointed to death day one.

Also encouraging me to toe the line was the fact that they only get to shower three times a week. I don't know if that's for everyone or just the ones being punished for doing something extra bad while on the inside (check out my prison lingo) because I kind of came in on the middle of that part, but it didn't make me want to go there and find out. I like to shower daily, usually multiple times. I'm thinking a bunch of women all bunched up like that who haven't been hitting the showers regularly probably wouldn't smell real good. Plus, they probably wouldn't let me use the Dove Body Wash with the exfoliating beads and then my skin wouldn't be radiant and young looking. Not that I want to be all hot in prison, cause, you know.

Actually, being all hot kind of seems to be a non-issue because if one of your fellow inmates decides she wants to "marry" you for the duration of your prison term, it kind of looked like you just basically had to be her bitch and y'all, even the not-so-cute girls were getting hersbands (I totally just made that word up. Okay, probably someone else made it up first, but I felt totally cool when I thought I made it up.). I'm all about loving who you choose, but I don't even want a husband here on the outside (I'm killing myself with the prison lingo). I sure as hell don't want a hersband that I would probably have to share a 6x9 cell with every single day and who may or may not bathe more than three times a week. If a 2500 square foot house doesn't provide enough space to keep someone who bathes daily from getting on my last damn nerve, I'm pretty sure sharing a 6x9 cell with my stinky lover would drive me to adhering a blade from my cheap disposable razor to the end of my toothbrush using first aid tape and stabbing them in the kidneys (after I attended one of the many classes offered that would allow me to further my education and I learned where the kidneys are located in the body). Then I'd never get out but maybe then no one else would want to marry me because they'd be like, "Well, she spends a lot of time in the yard working out and is all hot, but that bitch ain't worth all the crazy that comes with marrying her and you'd probably have to sleep with one eye open." Oh wait, that's what boys already say about being in a relationship with me, minus the part about spending a lot of time in the yard working out and being all hot. I just figured in prison I'd have a lot of time on my hands, so I really wouldn't have an excuse not to work out, especially if I was doing like 25 to life for beating someone to death with my cast iron skillet for reading my e-mail after I've warned the repeatedly not to.

But if I do ever go to prison, I'm totally taking advantage of the opportunity to earn my cosmetology license. Then I'd give all the inmates makeovers and we'd be featured on one of those shows for having the prettiest women in maximum security.

That would be so cool.



But, not cool enough to make me want to deal with all this scary shit.

I will be nice.
I will be nice.
I will be nice. o

Scared Straight