While missing my wife and daughters last night, I forgot to mention that the hair braider dude, Lamar, was moved out, as was Mookie. in the night, one new guy was moved in, and one bunk remained empty. Urkel seemed to miss Lamar, I think because Urkel has never been to jail before and he is selfconscious about being very, very gay. (As Seinfeld would say, "Not that there's a problem with that.") He acted straight and tough at first, but when he saw that Lamar was openly gay and still got the respect of other inmates, he let his own sexual preference shine through. Now everyone knows he's gay, too, but Lamar is gone, and it's though he's suddenly afraid, as if he were deawing safety in numbers or something. He'll be fine.
It's a shame Lamar is gone, though. I was going to get him to braid my hair back like Greg's or Jerome's. Jerome has like 4 braids, Greg has about 16 or so, running front to back. I want the several little ones like Greg's. I'd get a kick out of seeing my wife's and coworkers' reactions to me coming in with hair looking like Snoop Dog.
I went on the roof again today, and some new guy from block D came up as well. As soon as we got off the elevator, the new guystarted his damn mouth. "Oh HELL no! I ain't goin out in this shit! It's cold as a Ma-fuckah out there. You GOT to be fuckin' crazy!" The other three of us took a Wal-Mart jacket from the big container and walked outside.
I ran two laps, not enough for my boxers to slide down off my ass, when loud mouth came out yelling, "Hey Y'all got to come back in. They said if one don't go, none go, and I sure as HELL ain't going out in this mother fuckah." So we came back in, and I cussed his little ass all the way back down the elevator and into the cell for wasting my time and ruining mt excercise time. I wanted to kick his little ass, which is rare for me, but then again, Jail make a mother fucka get crunk plum up. Or something along those lines.
After lunch I played some cards, and I'm pretty good at both Spades and Hearts. I ran the hearts table for a while, then everyone wanted to change the game to Spades. I kept winning, then the guard called my name, so I quit. The guard took me to the nurse's office to have a physical, which she rated me in as good a shape as any 26 year old smoker that doesn't exercise. One good thing was the weight. I had gone in weighing about 240, but the scale in the office said 226. Huh. Cool. If I really lost 14 pounds, that kicks ass, but I think maybe I just weighed less to start with than I thought. Regardless, this was one of those tall weight-sliding doctor's office scales, so I trust it's judgement.
I was so happy I went to work out in private in the cell. All my cellmates were out watching TV, so I did 15 pushups, then after a short wait, did 10 more, then 10 more. Then I did some situps, which sucked not having anything to latch my feet under. Then I did five more pushups and laid in bed until they opened the door about half an hour later. Back in the main room, they called my name again and I went to get "classified," which means they tell me where I'm going next. They looked at my job description and letter from my boss and agreed that I was ready for work release.
After I dinner I played more cards. It seems I had developed an aptitude for card sharkin'. The guard called my name again, this time handing me a garbage bag and telling me to pack my stuff. I called my wife to tell her I was being moved to another jail across town.
After putting on leg cuffs and handcuffs, I was loaded on a minivan and driven across town. I was in the back facing backwards, so I couldn't see where I was going. It didn't matter, since I don't know my way around this town anyway.
Once inside our new home, we were strip searched and sent to a medical lady who asked us a few questions and sent us to our new cell. By now, it was midnight and I needed my sleep.
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