I Would Not Do Well In Jail

After a brief conversation I had today in which I was recounting how I would like to hurl forks at my boss and poke his eyes out (which may or may not be PMS induced) I realized my main drive for avoiding “attempted manslaughter” and inflicting “bodily harm” is mostly because I just wouldn’t do well in jail. Seriously, I am not even what you would define as “girly” and this is a situation that would make me scream like one. Some things to ponder:

1. NO BELTS. Orange looks decent on me but I have to draw the line at jumpsuits. That’s a fashion choice I just don’t get. I have only recently lost enough weight that I can now wear a belt but because of that nasty suicide side effect, they confiscate all belts when they check you in. You would find me there, in a heap of orange canvas, on the floor of the intake room, sobbing…”Must define the waste…”. UGH.

2. NO PEDICURES. No matter how much work you have done or how much moisturizer you use, the quickest way to tell someone’s age is too look at their hands and feet. Hands may defy age some from the deferred benefit of helping apply all that moisturizer but have you ever seen old lady feet. BLECH. That, my dears, will not be me.

3. NO STRAIGHT MEN. The phrase “girl on girl action” does nothing for me. Seriously.

4. NO REAL FOOD. While I am the first to advocate E Z Cheese and Moon pies, I can not survive on lunch room food. I barely made it through elementary school without starving and the thought of mystery meat and stewed tomatoes makes me shudder just thinking of them.

5. NO TV TO MYSELF. I don’t get to watch much TV but I definitely have shows that I don’t miss. If someone named Bertha got between me and Heroes, LOST or Pushing Daisies, I would spend the rest of my time in solitary confinement.

OF COURSE, I would miss the monkeys. What day is truly complete without picking up dishes, candy wrappers and ground-in junk in the carpet? How could I not want to intervene in an argument, extolling the virtues of non-violent means to solve problems, all while repeating the “I have a dream” speech? Why would I not want to run out to Walgreens, 15 minutes before they close, to fill an impossible “project” list for something due the next morning? What is better than yelling for someone to let out the dogs while stepping into fresh cat puke? Is pulling an outfit out of the dryer not the best way to live? Should my immune system not have the benefit of constantly being in overdrive due to the 5 second rule? Wouldn’t I miss the debate on whose turn it is to do the dishes?

Okay, forget what I said earlier. The orange jumpsuit idea is starting to appeal to me…

fuc

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