Yes, this was from yesterday morning, but I'll answer because I had a girls night out this weekend too. We had a day of spa treatments, had a nice dinner, then we crashed a wedding reception and went on a ghost tour, all while wearing a go pro. Then some of us (not me) jumped in the pool even thought it was about 40 degrees and got reprimanded by hotel management, then I stole a hat off of a hillbilly (I should probably de-lice myself), then stayed up until 4:00 talking and drinking wine. Attached is a photo that somehow captures the evening. And now I have a headache But normally.....yeah it is all home by 9:00. I'm too old for that shit.
I thought he was only supposed to be in there for a year, leaving right around the same time I went to Afghanistan. I was in AFG for a year and three months, and have been home for at least 3-ish months. Did he get shived or something? Shiv someone else? Publicly admire one of the queens pubic thatch?
This captured our second evening. We had to represent. I debated putting it on facebook but I had to block a whole bunch of people first. And of course, I didn't block their faces there. It's a shame I have to do it, because they look great. I hardly ever give the finger, but I'm pretty sure I pulled it off. I wanted to get in on the pretzel they formed but I had to keep getting up to set the timer. I never would have thought I'd be the one responsible for the pictures.
Dixie was eligible for parole in March 14, denied. Denied again in July 14, scheduled for release May 15. Because he was on probation already when he got his most recent (3rd?) DWI, that meets the standard of "likely to repeat" or something like that. So . . denied.
I hope he met a wise, kindly old black man. But prison is no fairy tale. Two things never happened again. Boggs never walked again, and Dixie's farts never made a noise again. We'll come to find out he'd been on parole, but after a year in prison he couldn't reacclimate to outside life. He spent his last days bagging groceries and living in a roach motel. He carved "Dixie was here" next to another carving of what appeared to be a woman's hairy vagina. Dixie Bandit who crawled through a river of shit and came out... filthier on the other side. Dixie Bandit... headed for the Pacific. I hope to see my friend and give him out of date upscale porn magazines. I hope the pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope. The Labia-shank Redemption.
I imagine the story ending on a beach, with an elderly gentleman walking toward a man sanding on a black mid-90's Trans Am. The man looks up, revealing that he is Dixie, and smiles when he recognizes his old friend. Roll credits.