Why can't weekends be three days, again? I really need one day to recover, one to enjoy, and one to be productive.

Hell to the yeah.

Prison is not for sissies.

I almost got into an argument the other day with someone who thought that prison was a cool enough place to be that it was neither punitive nor discouraging. I tried to explain you have to be pretty fucked up for it to be better than the outside, but they came back with "Institutionalisation!" Dude, it's still BAD. Just because they have some access to TV doesn't make it a country club.

Obs spoken by a person who has never served serious time.

Or any time I'd say.

Not leaving the house for two weeks has been rough enough and I don't even have to shiv anyone to watch Bonanza.

Not knowing what happened, or why we haven't heard from him, is worse than knowing he's just blowing us off.

Steph, my Psycho Ex did have a few wise things to say, and one was "Never assume malice when stupidity will explain things just as well!" For your own peace of mind if nothing else, it might be good to assume, with lack of evidence to the contrary, that for whatever reason he cannot call, or feels ashamed to do so, and that he's being released at the same date/time you already know. If Tim feels okay with making the drive to see him, knowing he might not be on the list, then let that be okay, and if he doesn't feel like it, that's okay too. Tuesday you're getting both dog and man out of your house, and let that be the way it is unless/until you learn otherwise. Just pet the doggie and think, at least she's getting some good out of this: she gets to spend a few days in a household where she's actually fed and treated well. Maybe the doggie is the one you're actually meant to help!

I will not talk about the US prison/"justice" system. Nope. Off to watch tv and not think about HULK SMASH.

cholesterol:

Why can't weekends be three days, again? I really need one day to recover, one to enjoy, and one to be productive.

FuckYeahThis. Except I need four: recovery takes two. Oh, hell, I just need to win the lottery.

Except I need four: recovery takes two. Oh, hell, I just need to win the lottery.

I remember working a job where I crammed forty hours of work into three days; I'd spend the first three days of my "weekend" in bed. And the fourth wasn't quite as enjoyable as one might have hoped.

Smishes smonster.

Dude, it's still BAD. Just because they have some access to TV doesn't make it a country club.

I know it is a minor thing, but I was appalled beyond the speaking of it, over the food in the big house. It was clear that a lot of the fellows who signed up for the program I worked were just checking the boxes in their jackets to raise their parole status, etc. But others were there because they got special food.

I guess the system didn't want the outsiders to see what the inmates ate, because we didn't ask for anything different from the residents.

When generic Wonderbread and toxic cheese doodles is haute cuisine, it is little wonder that people get violent.

Another thing is the noise. I was nowhere near the actual blocks, and the sounds were overwhelming. Living in that decibel level all the time...I'd go screaming for sure.

The whole 'three hots and a cot' fantasy about prison. It's been said already...spoken only by anyone who doesn't know what it is really like.

The universe just needs to chill the fuck out. I am sorry that you all are going through the random shit life has decided to fling your way. Those that want/need ~ma have got it, and those that want hugs can have 'em too. Tep, I'll just wave from across the room.

Nervous for tomorrow. Uncle T has his appointment at Hopkins at 9 am. I'm scared that they're going to tell us he really does have only 6-12 months. Fuck cancer.

Fuck cancer