Tom didn’t have much to update me on. He’s feeling better, working a lot, and Dan’s house is still for sale. Mary and Dave may go to Laughlin for a couple of days and he’ll stay with Mom and Pepper if they do.

On my way back from the visit, I saw Palma walking from A Tower, but since we were at a distance, it took me a minute to realize it was her. She was heading towards medical. I don’t know whether or not she saw me, but she probably did. A part of me is glad she may never return to M, or at least very rarely because she’s too much of a cell-bouncing, room-tossing tyrant!

Espi’s on now. She’s really cool. She was telling Ida and I how the life expectancy of your average DO is 55 and she’s 50, so she’s going to be building her own home in the Bisbee area. How this is supposed to keep her from dying in 5 years is beyond me.

Ida went to medical and they gave her a suppository anyway. She’s being nice enough to wait till I get called to medical before she uses it. I just hope they don’t fuck up and that I am going for sure. When I was talking to the nurse this morning, she said M200 was on for today. It seems everyone else but me has gone so far. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to get spited for grieving.

Just heard on the news that the average high school drop-out rate for whites is 8%, 12% for blacks, and a whopping 30% for Mexicans. Yeah, I knew they were the dumbest species alive for a reason. Never have I met a group of people dumber than them Mexies! Blacks are pretty stupid too, but these Mexies can’t even spell or write their own names!

Kahn is on now. I wonder if she’ll be surprised to see us still together.

“Jodi rocks to radio,” said one of Ida’s notes. I asked her if she was starting a journal, and she said it was just something to remember me by. I’m surprised she’d want to remember anyone from this place. Anyway, this is what journalists do. They take notes, ask questions, and write their experiences. Ida won’t shut up about the idea of me writing stories. As I told her – I’m a fucking journalist, not a novelist, OK?

It’s been about 3 weeks and still no Palma. Did I scare her off? I’m not sure what to think. Some DOs have only worked here once since I’ve been here.

I drew some pictures from magazine ads for Ida’s grandkids.

Medical is spiting me for grieving them. It shouldn’t take this long to get a new inhaler. I’ll put the second tank out in the morning. According to Tom, they got sued for not being rude enough to wake people up and check on them, so that’s why they do it. Coming by to check on us is fine, but why do they have to do it so early in the fucking morning before everyone’s up?

Dinner was horrible. They’ve been feeding us worse and worse lately. Tonight we got tomato slop with potatoes mixed in and dead veggies. The only thing edible was the pudding cup for dessert like what we got with lunch. And like I’ll be getting plenty of this weekend (unless they change their snacks) because I’m going to win our bet.

It’s 9:15 now, Kahn just told me. I asked her if she thought medical was spiting me, and she said no because everyone grieves medical and she’d grieve medical if she were in here.

If I’m still with Ida when she leaves, I’ll be getting 4-5 toothbrushes and little tubes of toothpaste, some envelopes, and about 50 sheets of paper (a whole pad’s worth) from her indigent packages.

Hey, I’m a cheap Jew! I’ll take all the freebies I can get!

I noticed I’ve been a bit farsighted lately. Tom said he has been too, and he’s normally nearsighted.

I had quite an entertaining fantasy earlier. One where the bitch had to come to this jail. Upon entering the jail, she requests Ad-Seg because she knows she has an enemy here. Then she’s put in this cell with me. With me! Oh, how I’d love that, and oh, what I would do to her!!!!! One thing I wouldn’t do is kill her because then she couldn’t live to suffer. I swear I’d do shit like claw the bitch’s face up so bad that every time she looked in the mirror she’d remember me.