to reread this shit to ya just cuz you were too damn lazy to tune in last week! and now pt 2 of the excruciate'n adventures of CRACKVILLE CHAOS
once i reached the book'n station...the disbelief that i was feel'n...had now
turned into fear...fear that i would never taste fresh air again...fear that i would be stuck in an orange jumper...know'n full well that orange gives me that unflatter'n jaundice complexion...fear that i would never get to play in the Tabernacle Choir...even though i never played the electric guitar in my life...
the hot bulge'n bucket in blue was no longer of any interest to me in the slightest (well almost of no interest) i mean come on...i was gett'n thrown into the clink...not gett'n a home lobotomy perm...besides...i needed somethin' to think about to get me thru the nite
as i stood against the cold clammy brick wall wait'n to get me picture
take'n as part of the book'n parade...i knew i should've checked myself in the mirror...plus the over head fluorescent light'n wasn't calm'n my native nerves one bit...though somehow i managed to take a breather when the photographer arrived
i'm ready fer my close up Mrs. Demille...i exclaimed...only problem was...
i wasn't on sunset boulevard...and Billy Wilder was nowhere to be seen
i was told to just look forward and stand still fer roughly 5 seconds...the
only thing that ran thru my head was...what is the look i wanna convey in my snapshot?...sad?...scared?...hysterical?...eh! i'm an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe and i'm gonna kick yer ass!
next thing ya know i heard the glamour shot gargoyle say "ok thankyou"
what?...it's over?...i didn't even get a countdown to get myself together in my glamour shot pose...though she was kind enough to let me see what she had suddenly snapped....
i was absolutely fuck'n horrifically undelicious!
some low baritone underscore like symphonie fantastique by composer Hector Berlioz perhaps during my E true hollyweird story someday and who doesn't want a non embarass'n embarass'n photograph splattered all over the gossip rags?
BUTT anyways...
i have never groveled fer anything in my entire life...well besides tickets to
see the QUEEN's 2nd tour in St Paul, MN at the tender and supple age of 16...however i was NOT about to let this picture ever see the light of day...so i seriously asked the polaroid princess in the borin' benneton sweater if i could get a total do over with a countdown and whether she was completely bored or felt my fear in the photograph...she totally agreed WITH ME and saw no harm in it...so i got a fuck'n DO OVER...thank CHER!!
after my session with Annie Leibovitz had ended...i was escorted to the
drunk tank and lemme tell you...there was no turned down queen size bed with a wrapped truffle sleep'n on the pillow (well cuz there was no queen sized bed or feathered down pillow to rest my weary head) there was no privacy door around the toilet (well cuz there was no wall to attach it to) there was no remote fer the cable tv (well cuz there was no tv) and most of all...there was no CHRISTOPHER MELONI in my cell...
the other inmates where not at all as hot like they were portrayed on "OZ"...I WAS ROBBED!!
instead i was stuck with a drunk Tonto and some DYNOMITE dude
i opted outta the shower scene since Christopher wasn't in my cage...
and i was in no mood to be anybody's soap bitch...so i just sat quietly on the cemented couch and just starred at the clock fer my entire stay
tick tock tick tock tick tock!
watch'n and listen'n to the hands on the clock slowly sync up with the beat
of my heart was the only consolation that kept me somewhat sane that nite...cuz while Tonto was kick'n back count'n sheep...JJ kept up the entertainment by bang'n on the tank's window and tell'n me "they let'chu out whitey before me...cuz they always be try'na bring my people's down" (a direct quote i assure you!)
though i somewhat agreed with his complaint in general...i'm pretty sure
it's cuz he kept bang'n on the cell window...yell'n like some drunk bitch with a bad attitude and trust me when i say...i was ready to start digg'n my way to the outside just to get away from him...b.o. may have been his cologne of choice but it most certainly did not go with my aura at the moment
4 1/2 hrs would go by before i would finally hear the click of the cell door
as i was shuffled to the front to collect my belong'ns...look'n around and
open'n and i was asked to step out the cage...Tonto was still rest'n peacefully as i bid J.J au revior and told him i'd do my very best to bake him a Betty Crocker with a prize inside if i got a free minute...however he knew it would be our last time we'd see each other unfortunately
as i was shuffled to the front to collect my belong'ns...look'n around and
soak'n up my surround'ns hopefully fer the last time...i realized one thing...the overall interior design was atrocious and obviously NOT done by any legitimate non hetero although i guess that is defeat'n the purpose in the first place one might say!
as the
belong'ns that had been confiscated on my way in from the vanilla envelope before my glamour shots session...she read off one by one what they had entered...which was now only my lonely set of car keys...my flip phone...14 benjamins with some loose pocket change and my dignity wrapped in a wrist band...to which i said...just keep it!
that is until i looked closely at the photo?...hmmm...this actually could be
used to my advantage...everyone fantasizes about have'n an outlaw in them! i seriously had asked the guard if i could get an 8x10...apparently though not only did she not have a sense of humor...she also had a bad olgilvie home perm with capped highlights (i was trapped in 1989 hell) i had done my hard time long enough...i was starve'n fer affection...along with baby spinach salad with a raspberry vinaigrette and some chunky monkey ice cream...i knew this would be my ticket outta loverlessville and i'd be beat'n 'em off with a stick once i uploaded this pic onto my profile page on throatplungers.com
benjamins and loose change that were inside the wallet had now been replaced by a diluted pink check in the amount of $14 and some change...it's 4:30 in the fuck'n am...excuse-em-wah!! how does one expect me to get a cab with this check?
i was not a happy camper...wait'n fer large Marge to pat me on the back
and tell me everything was gonna be ok...instead i was told to find my own way home and don't come back...ummm yea...DON'T WORRY! i had almost washed away my life prior to check'n into San Quinton nonetheless was quickly reminded when i listened to my voicemails from my siblings...OH SHIT! of course each one was more aggressive than the last from one of my siblings...not ask'n what had happened to me at all...like if i had been mugged...maimed...mutilated and dumped on the side of the road gasp'n fer my last breath...no it was more like "where the fuck are you goddammit...we're wait'n at the fuck'n airport...you better pick up the phone"
as i walked forlornly home that early morn'n...i thought to myself how very
surreal the past 4 hrs had been and how it feels like to be a caged animal on the outside once again and how i gotta stop watch'n all those prison shows think'n how glamorous life is like on the inside (cuz it ain't!) and as i made it around the bend to the corner of hooker junction and crackville avenue...i was home...or at least not sleep'n on a cold hard slab (but enough about my boyfriend)
tune in next week fer the barely unbearable conclusional concussion of
CRACKVILLE CHAOS...now GET OFF MY DRESS!
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