Ida and I exchanged notes today. She’s in the same cell with a partial-butch named Carol. Ida says she’s OK so far and that she’ll take me back if Marilyn doesn’t work out. That’s sweet of her and although I miss her, Marilyn and I are more compatible. She’s quieter and sleeps as late as I do. She slept for a long time. She crashed around 9:00 last night and didn’t get up till 10:00 this morning. I see her as much as I saw Ida when she’s up because she sits at the desk a lot, but she’s less fidgety. Her snoring is nothing compared to Deanna’s and she’s very sweet and polite, telling me to let her know if she bothers me, saying this is my room, etc. This is her room too, but I appreciate how kind and considerate she’s been.

I gave her a couple of packs of Kool-Aid and she’s giving me her freebies, along with Ida, when she leaves.

She doesn’t make disgusting sounds when she eats, either.

Maria and the spitter are next door with Lisa. In the big cell downstairs are Mary, Myra, Sheila and some new girl who was a closed custody case, which means she’s crazy. Even Jackson pointed out how many crazies there are in Ad-Seg. Yeah, I know! I’m well aware of it.

Marilyn’s 44 and she’s here on prostitution and drug charges. She’s about average height and weight. She has dark eyes and dark curly hair a few inches below her shoulders.

I’m surprised to find that same juvi is still next door. I’d rather listen to her shit, though, than 10 people at once.

Anyway, backing up to yesterday. I went for my visit shortly after Pancake Face Smith came on (I wasn’t too thrilled to see her). On my way, I saw Mena working K dorm and Palma working J. I couldn’t see who was working L. Mary was in the visiting room next to me. I heard her yell, “You’re the reason I’m in this mess!”

I told Tom everything that was going on, unable to hide the stress I was under. He tried to console me, reminding me that tonight the DO may not be able to do anything, but within a day or two, they could, reminding me that they know me now.

I said I wish I’d gone to trial, lost, then gone to prison, if I was going to be dumb enough not to ignore this shit as soon as Tom took me home from Florence. Then Tom said that now that we know more about my case and how I was fucked over, I should’ve gone to trial because after telling me what to say (that I didn’t write the letter and that it was apparently added in), he doesn’t think I’d have been convicted.

Johnson walked by to let Mary out and Tom got to see Mary, who told me not to worry about the moves and that we’d try to get together eventually. Even Johnson reassured me about it. I’m not so sure Mary will want to move in here when Marilyn leaves (if I’m still in here) because now she’s with Myra. They’ve been friends for longer than we have and Myra will probably convince her to stay.

Smith’s grievance was returned to me. She wrote that every situation is different and she could see the inmates in 204, there didn’t seem to be any visible threat and it didn’t concern me.

Naturally, the sergeant wrote that she concurs with Smith’s response.

I’m sure you do, sergeant! Nonetheless, I opted to withdraw it.

I heard the door next door shut, and thought to myself – here goes that mouth. Sure enough, it went right to the door to yell. I think they’re all locked down now for 2nd shift headcount. In a few minutes, I’ll be able to see who’s on tonight. I know it won’t be Palma.

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Lopez is on. She’s going to let me out around 7:00 so I can let Tom know I’m OK. In a sense, they’ve been treating me like a queen since the new year.

Got a copy of Hart vs. MCSO for Ida. I thought it might interest her. I’ll slip it to her later or tomorrow. I could hear Carol yelling, “It’s freezing in here!”

I had taken the cardboard with me but had the spitter slip it to her for me.

My breakage curse lives on even in jail. One side of the earbuds completely shorted out on me, so now I’m using the original ones. They only short on one side if I move around too much.

Can you believe they served mashed potatoes for breakfast? Actually, I’d have eaten them if I weren’t so beat. They’re better than the fake eggs.

For the first time ever, one of the laundry guys came to our doors for an exchange. It was just towels and I told him to exchange the one by the door, and he sarcastically said something like, “Oh, so now I have to do it for you too,” but he did it. He threw a new one on the desk and yanked out the old one.

With all that goes on around here in the mornings, when they know most of us are asleep, it’s obvious they want to keep waking us up as much as they can. I mean, do they really need to serve breakfast at 5:30 in the morning? They can’t wait till 7:00 – 8:00? I think most of the inmates sleep late because most are hookers and druggies. Stuff that’s usually done at night.

Anyway, Smith is a major-league asshole. No one likes the bitch. The dumb shitbitch had both Ida and me go downstairs. I thought I was going to end up in 2. Ida never should’ve been put through the hassle of rolling up because she ended up staying in 5. While we were downstairs I told Marilyn that I thought we might be together from what Jackson and Jill told me. She said, “Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Nope. In fact, we hugged each other in relief when we got in here and knew for sure we would be together. Anyone but Maria! She agrees Maria’s too loud and too touchy-feely. Marilyn’s loud too, but it doesn’t bother me like it did with Lora and like it does with Maria. I think Mindy’s still in 2, but with Julia. It sounds like she’s having problems with the old hag, too. Everyone hates Julia. Julia’s going to be less happy about it than I’ll be if we ever end up together.

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Dinner was as bad as I knew it’d be. Hot dogs loaded with jalapeños. It was the most inhumane thing I ever bit into! One bite and my mouth is still burning even a whole hour later.

Myra was on the phone crying hysterically. Now she’s at Psych. I heard her say something about how she’s looking at 13 years, but I have no sympathy for this one. She’s one of those that gave me bad vibes from the get-go. I just never liked her, and I know she’s guilty of what she’s charged with, too. I can see her having it in her to smack kids around and abuse them in other ways as well. Makes me want to do things to her I shouldn’t write about.

On Lopez’s next walk, I’m going to have her let me out to try to call Tom. I hope he’s home and offline.

I have 79 days left. Still an eternity.

They used to come 2-3 days during the end of the week with clothes/sheets/towel exchanges. Now they’re coming with something 5 days a week. I just don’t understand why it’s always got to be 6:30 in the morning and I don’t understand why we get new towels 3-4 times a week, but stripes only once a week.

I wish all my cellies would sleep as much as Marilyn does. If I can’t be with Mary, then having cellies sleep from 8 PM till around lunchtime would be great. I’d not only have more privacy, but I’d have more space, in a sense, too. I can feel like I’m alone in here for the last 6-7 hours of my day.

I’m trying to mentally accept the fact that like most strong vibes I get, I’m probably right when I say we’ll get run out of Maricopa, but God I hope I’m wrong! There are a few other options besides letting them take our home. I could still kill myself so at least Tom could keep the house, we could run, or we could simply ignore them. Something I should’ve done all along!

Silvia is the spitter’s real name. I passed a book to Carol for her. I owed her that favor.

Anyway, I let Tom, who said he was worried, know that everything worked out fine with Marilyn and I.

He got another flat tire, thanks to those bumpy dirt roads.

The lesbians and the faggots were on their way to San Francisco – who got there first? The lesbians got there lickety-split while the faggots were still busy packing their shit.

What did one strawberry say to another? If you weren’t so fresh we wouldn’t be in this jam!

Marilyn just told me these jokes. Love the first one! We told Lopez a couple of them.

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It’s only 8:00 and Marilyn’s hit the hay. Now I can feel like I’m alone for the 6 more hours I’ll be up.

Mindy demanded to be moved before she wrung Julia’s neck, as she put it. Julia’s bitching that Mindy yells through the vents all day and night. She does, and that would drive me crazy too, but I still don’t ever want to be with Julia. You know, the one who’s supposed to be deaf?

The bitch next door gets on my nerves at times, so we all have our shit to deal with no matter where we are.

According to Marilyn, Mary does have 10 years to do after she leaves here in June, and as Ida said, only she’ll be doing it in Florida.

Florida?! Since when was she in Florida? I know she’s from New York, but Florida? And just what the hell did she do to get such a sentence and why didn’t she tell me? Why would she tell Ida and Marilyn and not me?

I’ve been here 100 days and it feels like years.

Marilyn gave me several of those little deodorants from her indigent packages and some little tubes of toothpaste. I’ll definitely be set with those items till I leave, but I still may need to buy more pads no matter how much paper I get from Ida and Marilyn. Especially with how much I write! At the rate I’m going, I may have over 600 pages when I get home, but it’s not like I have anything else better to do other than writing and listening to music. What am I supposed to do all day and night? Play with myself?

Marilyn’s also given me some pencils and a toothbrush and is so sweet and polite. So helpful, too. She offered to hand me things because I’m on top, and she feels the person on the bottom should do so. Yeah, and I’d do the same if I were on the bottom.

She was telling me all she wanted to do to Jerry, one of the nurses, while I was letting her know just how much I’d love to perform a little strip search of my own on Johnson. I’d love to check out what’s hiding under that uniform, though I’ll bet it’s mighty good, seeing that it looks so good from the outside! Especially those nice long legs.

I’m glad tomorrow’s Saturday. There shouldn’t be any rude nurses waking us up, and there definitely won’t be any clothes exchanges.

Tom and I have 22 more visits together. Truthfully, I’m glad our visits are closed contact. Do you know how hard it’d be with him right there and not being allowed to hug my own husband?! You can only do that in prison. Also, I can hear him a bit better in those little rooms. Background noise is hard for me to deal with. I can’t sort sounds out so well.

Tom asked if I’d be OK with raising animals that’ll get sent off to be butchered. Yeah, I can handle it. I have animals indoors to love.

It’s been about 20 days since Pérez worked. She ought to be back soon.