A Simple Introduction
donic griAlthough it took multiple trips to jail, and I do mean multiple, to encourage me to ignore my sticky-finger / you-can't-tell-me-shit syndrome, I finally did just that. I spent my "fucking years", as I like to call them, incarcerated. For those of you not reading into the meaning of that term, "fucking years" includes the ages of 18-22. Spend three years and some change behind bars and you'll understand my reference.
I wont allow you to believe that I waited until 18 to mess up either. My problems started way before that. I can remember stealing at day-care. I must have owned every Hot Wheel known to man as a child.
I was also one of those children who had to take money back to the grocery store because I pilfered something or another. It was Grape Bubblicious for me. My father told me I couldn't have any while in the check-out line. Guess what, right into my pocket it went. I was discovered only a half-hour later while my mother gave me a bath. I had shoved every piece into my mouth in a desperate attempt at destroying the evidence. You hear them speak of residue on C.S.I.--there was plenty of residue to pinpoint my crime! Purple teeth, gums, cheeks, and even my bathwater which had no doubt absorbed a great deal of the tacky grape overflow. I even cheated on my punishment. After dropping off the dollar to Kroger's I doubled up on the Underoos to dull the pain from my father's belt. It didn't take him long to realize that whippings were of little use.
Those events, as you'll come to know, are hardly a blip on the radar in comparison to my future fuck-ups. They certainly were foreboding though, as you will all learn. I ask a few things of my reader though before delving into these archives of juvenile idiocy.
Please know beforehand that none of my crimes were violent, I am a law-abiding citizen now, and that you should be finding humor in it all. No doubt there will be those of you ready to post a hateful message and criticize every action of my past. Just know that I'll be posting my response with an amused smile. Don't waste your time. (Click here to subscribe to my feed!)
I wont allow you to believe that I waited until 18 to mess up either. My problems started way before that. I can remember stealing at day-care. I must have owned every Hot Wheel known to man as a child.
I was also one of those children who had to take money back to the grocery store because I pilfered something or another. It was Grape Bubblicious for me. My father told me I couldn't have any while in the check-out line. Guess what, right into my pocket it went. I was discovered only a half-hour later while my mother gave me a bath. I had shoved every piece into my mouth in a desperate attempt at destroying the evidence. You hear them speak of residue on C.S.I.--there was plenty of residue to pinpoint my crime! Purple teeth, gums, cheeks, and even my bathwater which had no doubt absorbed a great deal of the tacky grape overflow. I even cheated on my punishment. After dropping off the dollar to Kroger's I doubled up on the Underoos to dull the pain from my father's belt. It didn't take him long to realize that whippings were of little use.
Those events, as you'll come to know, are hardly a blip on the radar in comparison to my future fuck-ups. They certainly were foreboding though, as you will all learn. I ask a few things of my reader though before delving into these archives of juvenile idiocy.
Please know beforehand that none of my crimes were violent, I am a law-abiding citizen now, and that you should be finding humor in it all. No doubt there will be those of you ready to post a hateful message and criticize every action of my past. Just know that I'll be posting my response with an amused smile. Don't waste your time. (Click here to subscribe to my feed!)
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