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Prison wear for inmates at the Maricopa County Jail, which is a Tent City Jail created by the Sheriff, became pink from head to toe—underwear and socks included. He created chain gangs, so the inmates could work on county and city projects at no cost to the taxpayers. He then established a chain gang for women so he wouldn’t be sued for discrimination. He put an end to pornographic magazines, and smoking, took away the weights, and allows only “G” rated movies to be shown. He stopped Cable TV, until he discovered that a Federal Court Order required Cable TV for jails. He turned the Cable TV on again, but it only receives the Disney Channel and the Weather Channel. Someone asked the Sheriff, “Why the weather channel?” He replied, “So they’ll know how hot it’s gonna be while they’re working on my chain gang.”
When temperatures soared to over 130 degrees in the Joe allowed the inmates to strip down to their pink boxer shorts. One tent city inmate complained, “It feels like we’re in a Furnace. It’s inhumane.” Sheriff Arpaio offered no sympathy for his plight. He said, “It’s 120 degrees in Iraq, and our soldiers are living in tents too. And, they have to wear full battle gear, but they didn’t commit any crimes. So shut your damned mouth.”
He also cut off all coffee at the jail, because it has no nutritional value. When the inmates complained about the loss of their coffee, he simply said, “If you don’t like it, don’t come back."
Enjoy the moment without expecting it to last.
The grocery store was packed with hordes of elephants wearing big gray sweaters and giraffes with ugly shoes.
My mom had her list handy in order to get in and out of the store, she had jotted down that her list would be no more than $40 bucks, but as we grazed through the aisles we kept piling up the cart with more and more stuff that I knew was not necessary to make this "perfect" thanksgiving. Yet, this is what she wanted. I wish I was still the little kid who is actually able to sit in the cart but instead I have to place the big heavy jugs in place of my once cherished throne.
I pushed the cart and imagined I was driving on a race track. I know when I get the chance to finally drive I will be an excellent driver because I mean I have been playing race car video games forever and that must be accounted for some credit. Not to mention that I'm not too shabby at wii mario cart either. So, in my personal novel that I am conjuring up in my mind this experience would be underlined and noted as foreshadowing. Foreshadowing to a bright future with automobiles and butlers.
Speaking of butlers, I watched parent trap today and if I ever met a girl who looked exactly like me, my reaction would definitely not be that controlled as it was of Lindsey Lohan's. I'm pretty sure I would scream, kick her, then run away shouting IMPOSTOR.
I am not an impostor, or I hope I'm not, nor is my faith crooked. It may show some signs of rustiness, but we are all tin men sometimes. Actually, I question whether my heart is still inside my body..but that's a whole other story.
Anyway, back to the grocery store, I grew rather frustrated when I saw people pushing carts that looked like a clothes store. Everything stacked so neatly that even the apple sauce fit in with the bananas. Grocery shopping was truly an art when it came to putting the items in the cart. I was so tempted to pull out the cereal box from the bottom of the stack and shout JENGA! Now that would be funny. But, what really bothered me was the fact that they are going to check out their items and mess up their perfect structure.
Which reminds me, do they still ask for paper or plastic? Because in paper bags the bagger usually does a perfect job of stacking, but when it comes to plastic they just throw the stuff in. I would hate to have the job of bagging for 2 reasons.
1. You get the job title of Bagger. Almost like beggar or hagger or even shagger. All words that should not be associated with your pay check.
2. If people were rude to me I would put the soda on top of eggs or the bleach next to bananas. and then i would get fired.
But, being a bagger actually might prove to be interesting. I mean you are the person who gets to see all the items this person is buying. The lonely bachelor with his frozen foods that you are tempted to leave your number. Or how about the old woman who buys more cat food than she does food for herself. In some way you are a private detective or a psychologist, and now I think about it I wouldn't mind being the bag girl.
Fitzwilliam Darcy has to go get neutered tomorrow. poor kitty.
My sister is watching Pride and Prejudice right now and Mr. Darcy is truly the most brilliant man ever to walk the earth. I curse this movie as it has put false hopes into a naive lovers heart.
p.s. you have carved your name permanently on my heart.
When Farruk (6th grade Indian kid I tutor) walked in with a handmade apple pie, it changed my whole perspective. I stopped and thought this is probably what a teacher feels like during Christmas time when they receive gifts from students they don't feel like they have made an impact on. He hates reading yet I make him. He teases me constantly and frustrates me. He definitely finds my cats more interesting than he does the book. And on top of all that he always shows up 5 minutes late and whenever he gets the chance he glances at the clock to see when it's 6:30 and he can play Wii. YET, when he told me he made this pie at his after school program and smiled at me, all of a sudden I realized I may be impacting his life, and hoped for more days like these.
I can't decipher if this feeling is either anger, fear, or confusion. My stomach felt like a deep hole was burrowed into it or a rock was thrown down my throat and plummeted dangerously down to the pit. I shook it off before, but it's almost like a chronic disease that you know will always come back. I am fearful. The monotone vibrations ring through the receiver bouncing off temple walls until they cannot be heard any longer.
Frustration.
Please help me to shake off this feeling.
The curtains want to close before the last performance has to go on stage. If only we were all watching a comedy.
Examine your tear underneath a microscope.
