Love, Justine

Muncy State Prison

May 29th, 2024

Wednesday

1:33pm

I called the lawyer again. He wasn’t in, but the other attorney told me that he would call my parents today.

The Trump jury is deliberating today on the Stormy Daniels case.

At lunch, one of the women with a walker wore her sunglasses inside the Chow Hall because she had a headache. Two middle aged male CO’s started yelling at her, and she tried to explain why she was wearing them in vain. They made her dump her tray and then go sit at a table and watch everyone else eat. This woman is in her seventies and can barely walk.

Jesus.

4:05pm

I called my mother–she didn’t hear from the lawyer yet. Fuck my life.

8:35pm 

So, the lawyer said no. Something about Potter County being corrupt and his being busy. My mother asked about two other lawyers. Superman and King’s last day of school was today. Superman got an award that said Mister Congeniality, and I couldn’t hear what King’s was. The stupid recording talked over him. I think he said something about Inspirational, but I’m not sure.

The ladies here–namely Daisy, Kimberly, Morocco, and Cinnamon–think they can convince me to get a  prison tattoo of my zodiac sign. Morocco thinks we’ll bond and fall in love over it.

Unlikely, but funny.

May 30th, 2024

Thursday

11:31am

We’re getting another cellie.

1pm

Yay! We’re not getting a cellie!

Phew. That was a close one. Paul messaged me a long message that he loves me and he sent me some stuff on the new potential lawyer. He’s the Public Defender for Tioga County and he has been practicing for five years. Maybe he’s still motivated, then. Hopefully he’s not just inexperienced and dumb.

Ugh.

I’m thinking  positive thoughts, I’m raising my frequency. This IS going to work out. My charges will get dropped or I will be acquitted, and I will never come back to prison or jail.

3pm

I called the boys, they were making a cardboard fort in the living room. I called Motorcycle–he got my letter and bought a Harley motor and was in a really good mood. He must have said he loved me 10 times. He said he had a dream about me last night. He was very lovey. My mother left the new lawyer a message–no response so far.

5:45pm

Trump got convicted on all 34 counts and he is still the Republican presidential nominee. His sentencing is set for July 11th. 

Yesterday King read me a quote for my birthday in his book of quotes. It said, “Whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.”

Fitting.

May 31st, 2024

Friday

11:33am 

Nobody’s heard from the lawyer yet. Do none of these people answer their messages?! I just got a letter from the Public Defender’s Office dated April 29, 2024:

Dear Ms. Kenley, 

We have received your application services, and it has been approved. Please contact this office if you want to speak to the Attorney before your hearing. If not, I will speak to you 15 minutes before.

Thank you.

Blog #5

Neither Here Nor There: Musings from the Other Side (of the Razor Wire Fence)

Welp, Daisy and I were supposed to get a new cellie yesterday (we didn’t), so we decided to come up with a backstory about her.

Here it is:

Sara the Racist Southerner

Her favorite song is “Fancy” by Reba McIntyre, and she drowned her two kids and the dog in a giant vat of Jell-O. The dog was a yellow lab with hip dysplasia, and she did it because her hubby Robert, was sleeping with the redhead next door, Mandy. Mandy has fice kids, and screws all the neighborhood men, in Basic White Bitch fashion. These events took place in West Virginia, and Sara drove  to Pennsylvania in Depends when she fled.

That’s the end of that ridiculous story.

Speaking of Depends, Bambi did the “Paws Walk” here and nearly shit herself on the track. Then she left green poo on the toilet seat.

Ew.

In other news, Officer Colostomy Bag is on today, rockin’ his hard-middle-parted hair. Also, Kimberly let us know that she feels like her ovaries are falling out of her butthole. She then told us about a woman here who has a very large vagina and finds it appropriate to bring up in casual conversation.

Speaking of vaginas, Morocco says she’s going to convert me to lesbianism. She speaks French, Arabic, and English. Maybe if she whispered sweet nothings to me in French, Oui Oui! Anyway, Morocco also says that her pussy’s so good, she says her own name during sex.

As Kimberly would say– Oh my stars!

I talked to Motorcycle and he got my dirty blog. He said, “It sounds like you girls need some dick!”

Truer words were never spoken. Lately, every time I’m in a bad mood lately, Kimberly and Daisy tell me to put on mascara because it makes me nicer. Another running joke is a woman here named Orca who is constantly screaming into the phone on video visits, “WHERE IS MOM-MOM’S BOY?  WHERE IS MOM-MOM’S BOY??!!”

Nobody knows where the fuck Mom-Mom’s boy is. 

It’s a mystery.

 Also a mystery–where Morocco’s e-cigarette is. Earlier, she was changing her pants for Yard, so she sat on her bed. When she stood up, she had an e-cig between her butt cheeks. Another fun fact about Morocco’s butt cheeks?

She has “JUICY” tattooed on one of them with a picture of a dripping strawberry. 

Fun. 

I’m going to get the same tattoo, but on my face.

To wrap things up, here’s the poem of the day, courtesy of Kimberly, with a little input from Daisy and I.

‘Twas the night before food stamps

And all through the hood

All the homies were hungry

Cuz they wished a bitch would

All the sneakers were hung

On the power lines with care

Come to my side of town!

You wouldn’t dare!

You’re welcome.

I just have three questions:

Where’s my mascara?

Where’s my e-cigarette?

And WHERE THE FUCK IS MOM-MOM’S BOY???!!