WhoCare
New Member
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2004
- Messages
- 400
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MONDAY: I still can't believe this. I still can't believe
they've put me behind bars. After all the years I spent
teaching them how to live well, how to exhibit fine taste in
everything from wine to swine, this is the thanks I get. I
have to endure a bed with no canopy, a window with no
drapes, and a cellmate with no teeth. I wish she had some
teeth, because I can't stand the thought of spending months
with a woman who keeps calling me "Mafa Sewer." Especially
since she's the one who smells like a sewer.
TUESDAY: The other prisoners are much friendlier than I
expected. Today, I saw several of them fighting over me.
They must have heard about my decorating skills. I went up
to them and said, "Come now, ladies, try to show some
decorum. There's enough of me to go around." They got really
excited and a couple of them shouted, "Me first! Me first!"
I knew I was popular, but I didn't think I was this popular.
WEDNESDAY: A big woman named Stella asked me if I want to
"hang with her." That scared me. I know this place isn't the
Ritz-Carlton, but I hadn't given much thought to suicide.
But now that Stella has brought it up, I'm beginning to
wonder if I should consider it. I've always been a strong
woman, a survivor, but I don't know if I can take another
day of institutional toilet paper. Even my cellmate
complains about it, which may explain why she keeps
borrowing copies of my magazine. The other day, I heard her
say, "Martha Stewart Living: You don't have to be literate
to enjoy it!"
THURSDAY: I tried to explain to the guards the importance of
window treatments. But they told me that if I don't pipe
down, I'll be the one getting treatments. How rude. I can't
believe they expect someone to stay in a room without
blinds, drapes and valances. This is America, for heaven's
sake! I have half a mind to complain to Amnesty
International. They warn people about prison rapes, but
don't say a darn thing about prison drapes.
FRIDAY: I went to the warden today with a list of my
complaints. He laughed in my face. He said I won't receive
any special treatment, not even scented candles on the sink.
He was just as resistant to the idea of spraying ammonia, or
some other heavy-duty cleaner, all over my cellmate. As I
left his office, I gave him a tip: the collar of his white
shirt was much too narrow for his coat. He laughed again and
said, "My dear Ms. Stewart, perhaps you need to look in the
mirror. Then maybe you'll realize which one of us is guilty
of a white collar crime."
SATURDAY: The food, if you can call it that, is tormenting
my stomach. I've had bad food before -- there was that time
I ordered room service at the Ritz and, dear me, the lobster
bisque was a little heavy on the sherry -- but this is
ridiculous. We had spaghetti for dinner today and I found
only one piece of meat in the sauce. But when I showed it to
Stella, she said, "Oh, that's probably just a roach."
SUNDAY: I don't know if I can take another day in here. The
other prisoners have gotten much too friendly. Even my
ex-husband was never this intimate. I asked Stella if I can
"hang with her," but all she does is put her arm around me.
That may eventually kill me, but not soon enough.
they've put me behind bars. After all the years I spent
teaching them how to live well, how to exhibit fine taste in
everything from wine to swine, this is the thanks I get. I
have to endure a bed with no canopy, a window with no
drapes, and a cellmate with no teeth. I wish she had some
teeth, because I can't stand the thought of spending months
with a woman who keeps calling me "Mafa Sewer." Especially
since she's the one who smells like a sewer.
TUESDAY: The other prisoners are much friendlier than I
expected. Today, I saw several of them fighting over me.
They must have heard about my decorating skills. I went up
to them and said, "Come now, ladies, try to show some
decorum. There's enough of me to go around." They got really
excited and a couple of them shouted, "Me first! Me first!"
I knew I was popular, but I didn't think I was this popular.
WEDNESDAY: A big woman named Stella asked me if I want to
"hang with her." That scared me. I know this place isn't the
Ritz-Carlton, but I hadn't given much thought to suicide.
But now that Stella has brought it up, I'm beginning to
wonder if I should consider it. I've always been a strong
woman, a survivor, but I don't know if I can take another
day of institutional toilet paper. Even my cellmate
complains about it, which may explain why she keeps
borrowing copies of my magazine. The other day, I heard her
say, "Martha Stewart Living: You don't have to be literate
to enjoy it!"
THURSDAY: I tried to explain to the guards the importance of
window treatments. But they told me that if I don't pipe
down, I'll be the one getting treatments. How rude. I can't
believe they expect someone to stay in a room without
blinds, drapes and valances. This is America, for heaven's
sake! I have half a mind to complain to Amnesty
International. They warn people about prison rapes, but
don't say a darn thing about prison drapes.
FRIDAY: I went to the warden today with a list of my
complaints. He laughed in my face. He said I won't receive
any special treatment, not even scented candles on the sink.
He was just as resistant to the idea of spraying ammonia, or
some other heavy-duty cleaner, all over my cellmate. As I
left his office, I gave him a tip: the collar of his white
shirt was much too narrow for his coat. He laughed again and
said, "My dear Ms. Stewart, perhaps you need to look in the
mirror. Then maybe you'll realize which one of us is guilty
of a white collar crime."
SATURDAY: The food, if you can call it that, is tormenting
my stomach. I've had bad food before -- there was that time
I ordered room service at the Ritz and, dear me, the lobster
bisque was a little heavy on the sherry -- but this is
ridiculous. We had spaghetti for dinner today and I found
only one piece of meat in the sauce. But when I showed it to
Stella, she said, "Oh, that's probably just a roach."
SUNDAY: I don't know if I can take another day in here. The
other prisoners have gotten much too friendly. Even my
ex-husband was never this intimate. I asked Stella if I can
"hang with her," but all she does is put her arm around me.
That may eventually kill me, but not soon enough.
That's funny!
