...almost everything is considered contraband in jail. For some inexplicable reason, they only gave me 2X prison garb to wear and I’m a size zero on a good day. With pants so loose on me that I had to hold them up around my boobs, I was walking around looking like an escapee from a Tennessee fat farm that worked far too well. One morning a guard walked past me and I sang, “Thank God I’m a country girl.” But that’s not what she heard. She heard, “Thank God I’ve got some contraband.” And, unfortunately, I did. I was wearing 2 sweatshirts and that’s one sweatshirt too many. So, before they tacked on more time for improper attire, I took the extra sweatshirt off and turned it over.
Those prisoners are some awfully resourceful chicks. They could make a cake out of cookies and make up out of M&M’s. I “bought” some prison make up from a woman (who was the pod Radar O’Reilly) for two packs of M&M’s on the next commissary day. But, you know my luck...not one damn red M&M in the whole bag. I had plenty of blue M&M’s, but since the 60’s, blue make up just isn’t done. So, I had to work with browns, yellows and oranges. A chick named Lisa gave me a plastic stick and some ink to use as mascara. An African American lady braided my hair for me because I wanted to look nice for my visitation day.
What an amazing group of ladies I was locked up with! I swear, if those women had used the same ingenious thinking on the outside, they’d be rich. They used the cardboard that was wrapped around their boxes of Oodles of Noodles to make calendars with and they did laundry with the bleach that they were given to clean up with. Oddly though, one of them asked for a dust pan. I couldn’t believe it. She ripped the elastic band off the top of her socks to use as a pony tail holder and yet she couldn’t fashion her own damn dust pan.
Mealtimes were like auctions...“An orange for an oatmeal pie” or “Chips for a sandwich” could be heard from the women who traded their foodstuffs like they were working the floor at the New York Stock Exchange. Blue packs were the most preferred food item available. They were the closest thing to drugs that you could get your hands on there...coffee with caffeine. One blue pack could fetch a chocolate cupcake AND a bologna sandwich.
The most resourceful of all the women were the ones who found love in jail. They took women with short hair and made them their lovers. Must be nice...they can find love wherever they go. Personally, I’m what they call “strictly dickly” so I had to just do without. Of course, that’s not new to me so it wasn’t a problem at all. Now, some of the women refused to do without...“strictly dickly” or “leniently liberal”. For them...there were a couple of truly entrepreneurial chicks who were quite the industrious type. They had a bit of a cottage industry going on. After obtaining some blue rubber gloves from the trustees and some maxi pads from some other trusting souls (like me) who didn’t really need them at the time, they took them and shoved them into the gloves, creating some rather odd looking...dildos...sorry, no other way to put that one.
I don’t know what they went for, probably more than a “blue pack”. One night an inmate that we all called Anna Nicole for her amazing resemblance to Anna BEFORE she went on the diet, apparently snitched on the entrepreneurs. We couldn’t have sworn to it, but she did get to move to another pod that same night. Her new home contained a rather masculine looking “female” at whom she had previously been making googly eyes through the glass. Anna gained the favor of the guards who often let her come out of the pod and wander around the common area unshackled...something that wasn’t allowed and that no one else was ever able to do. She worked hard for those favors...we assumed that her job was that of the pod snitch. My neighbor was fond of saying, in reference to Anna, “Snitches are witches who lie in ditches with stitches. Prison poetry...what a trip.
Anyway, the night that Anna was transferred, the screws came in and tossed two bunks...acquiring all of the product that the two business prisoners had manufactured. Then, the guards would walk in wearing the gloves. That was sort of brave of them...the customer base no doubt got ideas when they saw a chick in those gloves.
The criminal mind is a very interesting thing. Too stupid to stay out of jail, but bright enough to contrive some rather imaginative items when they found themselves in need. Of course, I always wondered whether or not I could have been considered an accessory before the fact for my innocent contribution to their enterprise. Oh well, I’m outta there now. I must say...those women were quite the source of inspiration. Oh, by the way...the dildo couple did have to go to lock down for their little caper.
Lock down wouldn’t have been too terribly bad (much quieter than general population) if it weren’t for the fact that their meals were served blended and formed into patties consisting of everything in the regular meals. That was a rather repulsive thought, especially considering that the meals were pretty ghastly in their original form. Fear Factor has nothing on prison food...I must say.
Well, I’m about ready to fall asleep. I wasn’t able to sleep much at all during my time at the pokey and I’m still having a bit of trouble doing so. I’d like to see if I can sleep the entire night without jumping up at 5 AM for head count. So, until tomorrow...good night.
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