At the top of the week I had the pleasure of adding "visiting someone in jail" to the list of things I have finally gotten to do. Orange really brings out people's complexion. I think my favorite part was the stomach churning, holding down puke right before entering into the visiting station portion. Or perhaps touching the "I don't really know where you have been, please smell like sanitizer" black phone.
Give me some window love, ButterNuts. I mean ButterStuff.
I knew this kid last year, who walked out of court FREE, on three different occasions, for weapons possession and assault charges while having: multiple parole violations, over ten traffic citations having been involved in 3 accidents, totaling 2 cars which included an overnight stay in the hospital where a drug screen pulled up so many tranquilizers he could have put down a small horse and all this while repeatedly driving on a suspended license and having multiple warrants out for his arrest. While attending classes ordered by the state for anger and drugs, he failed every piss test he took. And still, he sits, probably to this day, in some apartment, on the couch blown out of his mind on Oxycontin.
When they spoke of Kaiser Sose as being protected on high by the Prince of Darkness, seriously, this kid walked on some sort of Get Out of Jail Free Candyland brick road paved in cherub kisses.
But that kid, that wasn't this kid.
This kid spoked pot.
Go straight to jail, do not pass GO, do not collect $200.00.
I understand illegal. What I don't understand is the system.
I am trying very hard to help right this kids path. I am going to go down and visit the Naval recruiting office to see if I can get him far far away from everything he has ever known. He needs to go. See Japan. Try Sushi. Ultimately it is all up to him and how serious he is about changing. I don't know if it is going to work but no one else seems to have a fucking clue. Shouldn't have left me in charge anyway, AFRICA BITCHES, EVERY ONE IS GOING TO AFRICA ON A HOT AIR BALLOON TO FIGHT THE KRAKEN!
On the Mania Channel this week, we also have reality superstar Tiny Armenian Grandmother in the hospital giving staff a what for: "I don't need those pills. Doctors, idiots, they don't know." What's funny is she is kinda right. Never been in the hospital and she only started taking Ibuprofen as of last year for pain associated with a fracture. I swear she might outlive me.
Right now she just looks nine months pregnant. She's 90. Tests, they run them. Maybe she is going to birth a small leprechaun, but I doubt it. Still, one can hope, cause free gold, duh.
This poor woman cannot hear even with her hearing aids in, which I found out last night are broken (Trip B). We are taking some papers today to post on her hospital board:
VERY BAD HEARING & SIGHT, SPEAKS & UNDERSTANDS BROKEN ENGLISH, KEEP IT SHORT SWEET LOUD, THANKS.
Looks like I am coordinating phone calls to my Uncle in Boston, Dad in Never Never Land and Sister who I may hit up this afternoon to go halves with me investing in a new back alley Vasectomy business venture.
We got mad skillz. Mad being the operative word here.
Some days I have no words.
Some days I have so many words stuffed in my pocket they just fall out, scattering into some weird crossword puzzle treasure map sudoku chess game on the pavement.
Sorry, but 34 Down will rape you on Baltic Ave with the Spade of Parrots.
Queen Sedative is getting a new car today as Fiance of Goodness and Light (and renowned International Trendsetter) is meeting me to sign papers around lunchtime. Our first "us" contract.
Every dotted line he signs on equates to one blow job, because I am not above sexual favors; that's just old school baybee.
There's no school like the old school and I'm the fucking headmaster.
Getting rid of the VW Bug feels like a transition and that.... we will get back to after this, commercial break.
[RUN: Tiger Brand Coffee Advert]