This was the final week of the twelve week long torture that was the Bikini Body workouts. It appears that I won't have to be doing the bathroom runway walk of shame after all.  It will definitely be the "eat your heart out, loser ex-boyfriend" sexiness strut.

It was a lot of huffing and puffing, bitching and moaning, and cursing out the trainer with her perfect Samoan Barbie doll body - the Bitch!!! She, and her, "Come on, girls...you can do a hundred more squats. I know you can! Come on!!! Ass to grass! Ass to grass!"



Ugh...f@#k you! and your rock-hard abs, and show-horse legs!

Okay, I just had to get that out of my system. Passive-aggressive, much? F#@k you, too, Self! And the old boyfriend - for good measure! Just... F#@K. Everybody. OKAY!?!

Anyway, I was out for a five mile run at the crack of dawn this morning. Because. I. Felt. Like. It. Who does that!?! And, what is wrong with me? I ruined a perfectly good day to just stay in bed and be lazy, by being motivated to go run? In the cold? Before sunrise? What?!?

So, I'm running and running, and actually enjoying it, when all of a sudden Adnan Sami and his call to prayer, the "Azaan," comes on my MP3. Totally transporting me to the first time I met the old boyfriend when the call to prayer unexpectedly rang on his alarm, which he had forgotten to reset.  He scrambled to shut it off, but it was too late. That beautifully haunting sound will forever stay with me, reminding me of him and all of our theological conversations about things we don't really understand. Why the Azaan popped up on my playlist at that moment - I really don't know.  I was in the zone, running to "Work It Out" with Pitbull and Lil Jon... "Go ahead, girl, work it out. So sexy, so fine, so fiesty." Yes, all of that and more! And then...needle scratching on vinyl...scrrreeeech...ugh! Complete hard-off!!! F#@k you, old boyfriend!!!

Why do we women do that to ourselves? Resurrect the past like we can make a future of it? Clearly things didn't work out with the ex. That's why he's an EX! Only, with this one, we never broke up. I just got sidetracked into prison. But, it's not as if he's been breaking down prison walls to come and see me. So, get over it, Alexa. A better man will come around. Must. Be. Patient.

OMG! Just as I punctuated that last sentence... you won't believe it, but the Azaan just came on...again! What the f#@k? I was just shaking my butt in my chair to Pitbull's "El Taxi," as I'm writing this. I can't explain this. Maybe there's a connection with Pitbull and God? I'm not even gonna try.

Okay, let's move on and talk about my banging body that I've been working so hard to attain.  I was getting so discouraged because I'm not long, sleek and skinny with no appetite. Just the opposite. I'm short, curvy, and I like to eat. More of a JLo type than a Jennifer Lawrence. Then I found myself watching the Univision Latino news report where the women all have bodies like mine, and they dress the way I like to dress - you know, dresses way too short and way too tight, full-on makeup, hair extended to the butt. Then I thought...hmmmm...I'm gonna be alright, after all.

Sometimes, being in prison, it's hard to remember just how beautiful and sexy we are. Our prison sanitation worker uniforms don't do much for our self-esteem. At least they're a deep green which match perfectly with the color of my eyes. That's the only good thing I can say about this outfit. Well, that, and our butts look great in these pants. Someone at design goofed with this one. I don't think they expected our butt cakes to look so yummy in these ugly green pants. Suckers!

I'm taking the next month to focus on diet and nutrition, then it's on to round two of the Bikini Body workouts, along with the Victoria's Secret leg workout. Then, after that, it will be time to bite the bullet and take some prison pictures so that I can have them uploaded on here. I had been trying to keep myself from doing it. I mean, who wants to remember prison, right?

Ah, well, yeah...maybe not. I don't particularly want to find my prison photos in the family album years down the line. I'll be like, "And this was your grandma, when she was in prison..." So, not cute. We'll leave that for the Teresa G's of the world. Perhaps, I'll dig up the old mug shots and post those instead. I can't help that those are out there. Freedom of Information Act and all, you know?

Ok, thank you for checking in. It's coffee time for me.

This is week three of Kayla Itsines' Bikini Beach Body Workout. Still kicking my butt, but I like it! Our thrice weekly one-on-one sessions have evolved into a full blown workout taking up our entire rec center with hot girls galore joining in. We dim the lights down low, do our circuit workout, then twerk it out until our asses are super sore! Probably not what Ms. Itsines envisioned her workout to be, but, hey...this is prison! What does anyone expect out of us anyway?!?

It helps tremendously to have a Vegas showgirl, a Vegas stripper, a socal Latina hottie with a phat ass, two Hawaiian hula-girls, and of course, moi and my down south booty rumpshaker. The hot tracks of the night were the very fitting "Hot Girl" by Belly and Snoop Dogg, and "El Taxi." Don't ask. Just Google them. You figure it out... all the fun we were having.

The best part of it all, absolutely no po-lice to shut us down. We dubbed it our own special version of a re-entry class - the kind that is prison sanctioned to help us convicts reintegrate back into society with social skills and income earning potential. I may not be eligible to reclaim my law license until 2020, but I can now twerk it so I can werk it! Pay me mah money, ho...you know I'm all about that dough!

We even have a special walk where you pretend your legs are loose noodles making your ass quiver with every step. Try it. It's fun! I'm sure your man will thank you for it. Maybe he'll even make it rain on you (um...with hundred dolla bills, girls!)

Well, it's extremely cold here in this little valley where I now temporarily reside. A little too cold for a girl from the south. Girls gotta find a way to warm up the bum, right?

So far, so good at this camp. Everyday is beautiful, and I'm having so much fun! It's also day two of work. I was beginning to enjoy the life of leisure, but then they decided to put me to work. Bleh!  I will be training to drive "Big Bertha" around the complex made up of three male prisons, and the women's camp, taking the women to and from work.  I chose this particular job because (1) I don't really want to work hard for prison pennies anymore, and (2) this is a nice, relaxing way to spend my mornings. I will only be working until 10:30am - sweet!  I'll have the rest of the day to work on keeping fit. But first, I have to train and obtain that license! Wish me luck! I'll be swanging "Big B" from the camp to the pen and back every day.

Okay, so picture a circa 1970s Tijuana city bus, chipped white paint, busted windows, no ac or heating, brown pleather seats...all that's missing is the stripper pole and it's a donkey short of a Mexican party bus! Yep, that'll be me, bossing up in here and getting that money on Big Bertha.

In the meantime, I am working as a fuel station attendant. For those that know me, I don't have to mention that I didn't know how to operate the fuel pump. For those that don't... a girl's gotta learn new skills in here.

Well, I just tuned in to NPR news to hear about all that is going on in the world. Always the same doom and gloom. In prison related news, there are several sit-ins taking place in prisons across the country to denounce the poor living conditions that prisoners are being subjected to right here in America. There are hunger strikes taking place in at least 5 male prisons, in addition to two women prisoners who are also participating in the sit-ins.

It has been reported that these two women are being punished for complaining about the conditions at their particular facilities, and as punishment, they were transferred and held at an all male facility.

Now, while some of you would probably be thinking that this is a good thing, it's really not. These women are most likely sitting in some version of the shu or "hole", being berated by some of the male officers in some form or another. Prisoners really don't have a voice while incarcerated. It takes a collective effort to get heard in most instances, so, I understand the seriousness of this situation. It took great coordination efforts to get all of these participants across the country to demonstrate in unison. I just hope that their voices are heard, and that conditions improve. Being in prison is not the walk in the park that it may seem. While, yes, federal prison camp might sound like it is, it's really only what we make of it. Most of us would rather be at home, living our lives, seeing our families and friends, enjoying our freedom. 

For those of you who are in a position to advocate for those without a voice, I do hope that you see beyond what is parlayed to the general public through countless reality shows and other fabricated media.

I had never before given myself the official "Wiccan" label until I came to prison, but only for a short while. To try it out. Then I took it back, and went back to just being me, an "Other". Although, as it turns out, that particular ideology did best define what has been my lifelong belief when it comes to spirituality. I had grown accustomed to my mostly unbranded solitary practice in the privacy of my own home (or the occasional cemetery) - experimenting with my candles, music, rituals and potions.  Pretty much keeping this nocturnal practice to myself, except for my family and close friends who joined me every now and then for "some fun". These meditative rituals are what bring me peace, quietude, and tranquility in an otherwise chaotic world.

It was never fun to hear the non-boyfriend say that I "scare him," but that he finds my witchy ways fascinating... "just don't do any witchcraft on ME." Ha! Too late!! Sucker!!! What do you think that is going on at my bedside table? Do you think that candle burns 24/7 because I like the way it Smells? Or because it's PRETTY?

"Of course not, love! Why would I even THINK to do something like that? Don't worry ... that there has nothing to do with you." In truth - it DIDN'T have anything to do with him. That bedside candle burned steadily for the real love of my life living a few states away.  But he didn't need to know all those silly details.

In all actuality, with this particular man glued to my ass, I didn't need to do any special rituals or magick to keep him around. He did that all on his own. It was pretty hard trying to get rid of him, in fact. "Hey love, don't  you have anywhere to be? Don't you need to go to Work any time soon?" I'd ask, as I fed him another Flaming Hot Cheeto. His only "cheat" treat after six hours of pumping iron at the gym, followed by another four at my house. I tried to keep him eating "clean", but, hey...a man has to indulge every once in a while. He supplied the Cheetos, anyway. I didn't even have to do that. So, it was a classic win-win situation.

"No. But thank you for asking."  He'd always reply.  UGH!!! The residual magick making its way to him didn't hurt any, though. Eh...I like to think that it "enhanced" his enchantment of me.  It was either that, or the Viagra.

There really was no need to put him under any spell to keep him worshipping at my feet. It was quite endearing for a stretch - until it just wasn't anymore.

All of my life I had aligned myself with the "Other" category when it came to religious preference - prison was no exception. I hadn't had real world exposure to many other women who were like me in that respect until I got here. The type of women who worshipped the way they wanted to, in a way that felt natural to them, and that didn't care what other people thought about them or their beliefs. It was no wonder then on how quickly I made my association with this group of women who are confident, self-assured, and at one with nature.

There is a fair amount of religious tolerance in prison, probably not because the officials want it necessarily, but because religious freedom is protected under the Constitution, as well as the Prisoner's Bill of Rights. If you are going to prison, or know of someone who is in prison - get to know the rights afforded under that Bill. But keep in mind that where rights are afforded, there are also personal responsibilities to maintain.

Because prison allows for a variety of religious practice, this is a good place to explore which practice resonates with your own personal beliefs. If you are still unsure of who you are, or what you stand for, take the time to explore the spiritual side of you while you are in prison. Although every prison I have been to is skewed more toward Christianity, there are plenty of allowances for those "Others" out there like myself.

Some of the things that I thought I was going to miss out on the most here in prison, were my incense, candles, oils, bath scrubs, and nightly rituals. But, as it turns out, prison is very accommodating to my spirituality. We are allowed (either by special order or through the prison chapel) almost all of the tools of our practice. We are provided with a beautiful outdoor worship area - an earthen circle in which to cast our sp...er...do our ritual "worship"; an equally beautiful meditation room with rugs and floor pillows; a Maypole with colorful ribbons; a bonfire pit centered within the circle for our lunar worship and practice; caldrons; an altar; essential oils; sage; candles; and even a special meal to celebrate Samhain in the Fall. By special order, we are allowed Tarot Cards, a pentagram necklace, and our own personal Book of Shadows.

Even though we are not allowed to cast "spells" in prison, all of these other wonderful things are available to us under the Freedom of Religion Act; however, it is up to each individual facility to make these accommodations available beyond just the basics necessary to comply with the rule of law.  At the facility I am currently at, we are extremely fortunate to have a caring Chaplain and administration which makes these allowances for us, without us having to forcefully exert our rights through the courts. 

Find out if the facility you are expecting to go to has an active and involved Chaplaincy. Do some research and seek out a facility that best suits your religious needs - it will make all the difference in your new prison world.

Why Don't You Love Me?

This is the loaded question I've been asking the LOML (aka love of my life) for the past five years of knowing him. All because I had temporarily forgotten my true worth when it came to loving him. Now that I am over the self-pity I allowed myself to indulge in while in prison, I'm now asking myself why on earth did I ever love HIM?  He is extremely unavailable, inattentive, and aloof. Beyonce had it right when she said "There's nothing not to love about me. Maybe you're not the one. Or maybe you're just plain Dumb!"

You Don't Even Care to Care

The last few weeks I've spent cleaning out my prison approved contacts list - deleting a lot of my old contacts/friends/Plan B's, C's and D's. Getting ready for my new life just around the corner. I even deleted the LOML from the list. Twice. In the last week.  Only to end up adding him back in after much consideration. I wasn't just quite ready to delete him for good yet. Until today. After one last desperate failed attempt at making him love me.

I should have known it was never gonna happen from the moment he said to me that his career would always come first. I had never had a man tell me that before, so I didn't quite believe him when he said it. Neither did I know exactly how to process that bit of information. All the while I'm thinking, "Fine. No problem. Go work so you won't be up my butt 24/7."   I didn't ever stop to think that he MEANT it literally. I mean, it's not as if when I considered painting him green and calling him Benjamin so I would find him more exciting - I actually meant it in a LITERAL sense. Don't we all sometimes say things we don't mean from time to time?

Check My Credentials


His being a workaholic didn't bother me in the least bit.  I needed a man with his own life's ambitions, so that I could be free to pursue my own. So this is a quality that I actually placed on the "pro" side of the list on my assessment of him.  Not too many women I know look forward to their significant others spending more time at work than at home.  But for me, the less time I needed to spend entertaining him, the better. So, yeah...work is good. His living four states away? Even better!

It's not as if I was ever going to fit into anyone's happy homemaker role in this lifetime.  And that's when I finally realized that it's not him that's maybe not the one. Maybe I'M just not the one.  It's me that was trying so desperately to become the ideal woman I was picturing in my mind that he needed or wanted.  And then I realized that no matter how much I tried to change who I am, it was never going to work with this man, or any ordinary man, for that matter. I'm way too into doing my own thing, working into all hours of the night, doing whatever I want, whenever I want.  I have a trash mouth when I'm mad, a crass sense of humor, I get bored easily, I LIKE to be alone, travel alone, eat out alone - but I'm also a walking contradiction.  I like a man to dote on me, adore me, take care of me, buy me things, pay my bills, go places with me on long weekend getaways. But when I need him gone, he needs to know when to go. And when to come back without me having to ask. Is this too much for a woman to ask for? This is probably why I will be all alone for the rest of my life. At least it is according to my mother, my friends, my friends' mothers, and their mother's mothers.

I've Got Moves In Your Bedroom

Case in point... One of my Plan D's flew in to see me, and while out to dinner looking over the menu discussing this and trying to decide on what to order, he said, "Don't look at ME. I'm not on the menu!" And I just couldn't resist... out from my mouth came, "Well that's a good thing because I was thinking of just f*@#ing you, not marrying you." So NOT the right thing to say if you want a guy to ever call you again. Well, at the time, I thought it was pretty effing hilarious. Still laughing. I thought we were platonic! Sheesh!!! Guys can be so sensitive!

Or, this other Plan Z, who was annoying the heck out of me whining about me not wanting to go out with him on this particular evening. He said, "But I drove over 200 miles to come see you, Alexa." My response... "So! All my OTHER boyfriends cross the seven seas to come and see me!" Um... he never called me again either.  Did I mention he was Plan Z?  I thought that was a pretty clever comeback. Obviously, he didn't. Oh, well, that's why it's called "dating" and not "commitment." He can now save on his gas mileage for sure.  So, what is a girl like me to do?

Honey, You Better Sit Down and Look Around

I've been considering going for a nice Jewish guy. I met one once. Leaving a bagel shop in the Upper East Side a few years ago. He's a lawyer on Madison Avenue. I'm a lawyer, so immediately I thought "No WAY!!!". I know I'm reaching, but I've often wondered where my life would be now if I actually had called him instead of losing his business card somewhere in the bottom depths of my Gucci pocket book. Hmmmm....

Too bad we don't have Google/Facebook/Linkedin/Twitter/People Finder here in prison.  I'd be all over that by now.  Can you imagine a bored prison babe with too much free time on her hands having access to all these tools? Scary, isn't it?

Well, there's always M. Krause, the sexy German-Mexican guy I met once on holiday. He had offered to pay whatever it took for me to leave my old life and become his wife. I wonder how much he would pay for me NOW? Am I worth less for being locked away all these years, or am I worth MORE because of it? I think it all depends on who you ask.

Let's face it, I get to work out everyday to keep the booty right, and these lips haven't kissed a man who isn't my father, brother, uncle, cousin or nephew in the last couple of years. That's gotta be worth something on the single's market! I wonder if his Black AMEX card really comes without a limit... I will be saying "Si! Si! Si!" all the way to the Cartier storefront in Manhattan first stop out of here!

I Even Put Money in the Bank Account

Well, to give credit where it's due to the LOML, we did agree to date casually "until someone better came along." Five years, and countless Match.com dates later, no one better ever did come along, but I kept hoping.

So, why then, am I so obsessed with making this guy fall in love with me, when clearly it was never our intention for that to happen? I've said "no" a million times over to a million different men, and when I finally found someone I wanted to say "yes" to, this one was no longer asking.

Perhaps it's nothing more than the thrill of the chase? Mixed signals coming from his sweet kisses? The really wanting to, but being afraid of everything that comes heavily packed in my Louis Vuitton baggage?

It doesn't really matter now. I am this close to coming home and going right back to making my own way in this world - unattached and free to choose someone truly deserving of me.

And as Beyonce says.....

I've got Beauty.
I've got Class.
I've got Style, and
I've got A$$.

I wish there was a more polite way of saying that state prison sucks.
It does.
And I can't think of one.

Once you are sentenced at the state level, you are immediately whisked away to the local county jail where you will be processed in, and where you will wait for prison transport to come get you. This can take weeks, even months sometimes - so make yourself comfortable in your new surroundings as best you can.

Most likely, upon arrival, you will be classified as being "high risk," and will be housed in maximum-security lockdown while awaiting transfer. Don't worry. There's lots of nice girls (like you, I presume) housed in max. You'll be just fine.

Let's talk state prison now, along with some basic survival tips.

The jurisdiction where I was sentenced sent all new prison arrivals to the state's maximum-security prison for processing, classification, and a nine-week A&O (Admissions and Orientation) program. I was transported in a repurposed school bus from the 1980s, now painted a muted chalk-white, that made its' rounds to all the local jails picking up inmates for delivery to the state prison a few hours away.

Tip: Eat the F#@king Sausage

After the last pick-up, there were only about 30 of us women in all that were headed to max on that particular prison run.  While there were no bathroom breaks along the way (you just had to hold it), there was the obligatory stop at McDonald's for a sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast combo (to go), which, of course, repulsed me because I was into eating "clean", causing me to stupidly give it away.  Who would have thought that would be the last decent meal I would be offered in the weeks to come?  Days later, feeling filthy, famished and defeated - I was STILL dreaming about that f#@king sausage! Give me my sausage back, please!!!

Okay. Sorry. About prison, then...

We arrived at the heavily secured prison gates, where we were let through, minutes later, after a thorough inspection of the bus and its undercarriage. I couldn't quite see anyone wanting to sneak their way INTO prison, but, hey - stranger things have happened!

The bus pulled into a tall building through a "sally-port" adjacent to the admissions building, where the garage-type door was quickly lowered behind us.  Here, we were escorted off the bus one by one, checked off the roster, and stripped of our steel.  Finally, we were allowed to use the restroom! There were two stalls with half-walls (for "privacy") sitting side by side along the wall in the middle of this room/driveway/oversized carport. We took turns, and then hurried our way into the admissions building. Surprisingly, no one yelled, screamed or was rude to us. So far, much better than Navy boot camp 20 years ago!

Tip: Don't Volunteer the Hair Extensions

Almost immediately you will be inspected, showered, and disinfected.  Then you will be mug-shotted, with your mascara running (the one you didn't wash off in county jail), and your hair sopping wet.  Don't tell them about your hair extensions just yet. Let them first ask you if you're wearing any. At least this way, you will have a fighting chance at a decent photo. (I hope you remembered your Vaseline, and while no one is looking, pinch your cheeks for a little rosiness to liven you up a little.) Okay, now you're ready. You'll have to do the Tyra Banks' Smize (smile with your eyes), because you won't be allowed to smile in your mug shot. 

If you are exceptionally pretty, they will make sure you look like hell in your photo. So, smile on the inside - radiating it through your eyes. Practice this in front of the mirror a few times, and take a few practice mug-shot selfies at home before your sentencing. It will be worth it to come prepared.

After your initial processing, you will be made to sit and watch a video on PREA (the Prison Rape Elimination Act), and on how to avoid "sticky" situations in prison. Here are some of those tips for you now:

Tip #1 - Don't Run in Prison (The bullets are REAL.)

Tip #2 - Don't Accept any Honey buns (They're not called "Honey" buns for nothing.)

Tip #3 - Don't Borrow Anything. Don't Lend Anything. (Quickest way to accumulate prison enemies.)

Tip #4 - Don't Talk to Anyone About Your Case (Snitches barter info for time off.)

Tip #5 - Don't Compliment Anyone (Unless you're looking for a girlfriend.)

Tip #6 - Don't Acknowledge any Compliments (See above.)

Tip #7 - Buy Your Own Coffee, Cream and Sugar (If you don't have any money, do without.)

Tip #8 - Don't Ask Anyone For Food  (It's okay to go hungry. You won't die.)

Tip #9 - Don't Talk About Your Family (No one needs to know who they are, or where they live.)

Tip #10 - Don't Talk About Your Money (Always say you're on a budget. Limit your spending. Don't flaunt what you have.)

Tip #11 - Don't Flash Your Dazzling Smile (Your teeth will get knocked out.)

Tip #12 - Keep Your Hair Hidden in a Bun (You might risk getting it cut off while you sleep.)

Tip #13 - Don't Wear Too Much Make-up (Your face might get slashed if you're too pretty.)

Tip #14 - Sleep Against the Wall on the Top Bunk Whenever Possible (It's harder to reach you there.)

Tip #15 - Sleep With One Eye Open (See above.)

Tip #16 - Lock Your Sneakers up at Night (They will get stolen. No one will care.)

Tip #17 - Don't Let Anyone Know Your Boyfriend's Name/Address/Phone Number (Prison bitches will be calling, sending sexy photos, asking him for money.)

Tip #18 - Always Refer to Your Boyfriend as a Loser With No Money and a Short D@#K (See above.)

Tip #19 - Buy an MP3 Player 1st Thing (To help drown out the zoo around you.)

Tip #20 - Research How to Avoid Panic Attacks. Learn to Meditate. (Even if you've never had one before in your life. This will come in handy in prison.)

There are so many more ways to survive state prison...just use your common sense. No one is your true friend here. Just remember that, and you'll be okay.

When I first got to prison, I freaked out over being locked in for most of the day and night. I had to learn to take control of my anxiety and subsequent panic attacks. It was one of the toughest things for me to deal with while in prison. One evening, at the onset of one such attack, I asked the guard if I could go outside for a short walk to calm myself. He said, "You picked the wrong country club, ma'am." And, guess what? I HAD picked the wrong one! At the feds, there's no problem going out for a moonlit stroll for whatever reason! Ugh!!! That didn't help me any at the time, though. One day, I will tell you what bad girl things I was forced to do to survive those attacks. For now, suffice it to say that you can buy ANYTHING in prison.

After the nine-week A&O process, I was moved to a medium-security facility a few hours away from that one. There, it was much safer, the warden was super-great, and we had a lot of fun stuff to do that we'll talk about later.

Oh, some last thoughts and observations...

(1) There is no need to bribe the officials to get you out of that hell-hole that is maximum-security prison...or, maybe there is. The non-boyfriend considered it.. I didn't ask how that went for him.

(2) If anyone asks you over the prison telephone, "Do you need me to make a phone call, hon?"  Say, in a language that he will understand, "NO!!! But, thank you for asking."

Ummm....the calls are RECORDED!!! DUH!!!

There is a huge disparity between going to state prison versus federal prison.  If you can avoid the state, I highly recommend it. Oftentimes, the state will pick up the charges on violation of state statute, and then the Feds will come in and piggyback on those same charges by changing the nature and scope of the alleged crime to fit nicely into a federal indictment as well.

Ask your state defense lawyer to request that your state charges be dropped in favor of the federal indictment. Most of the time, the state prosecutor will agree to do this, unless your case generates a ton of publicity and is considered a "high profile" case.  If that's the case (no pun intended), you are pretty much screwed, because...Congratulations! You've just provided the state prosecutor with a career enhancing notch on his or her belt.

But, in any event, let's talk prison - the first day, to be exact.

(This photo is not prison- just a light joke referencing "camp cupcake" aka federal prison)

Federal prison arrivals are a lot classier than state prison's. You will either arrive by private car (in the case of self-surrenders), passenger van (your ride from the airport or the local county jails - if there are but a few of you arriving on the same day), or the prison bus (which looks like a European private charter bus with bars on the windows that you can spot if you look closely behind the tinted glass windows... the U.S. government license plates are also an obvious giveaway). By now, it doesn't really matter how you get there. The point being that you've been sentenced to prison, and you've got to get there one way or another.

I had the pleasure of arriving by passenger van directly from the airport two hours away.  I managed to take in the sights during that long ride without having to force idle conversation with anyone.  I distinctly remember the hustle and bustle of big city life outside the airport, the heavy work-a-day traffic congestion, the outdoor shopping centers, car dealerships, chain restaurants, the Hindu Worship Temple, and one beautiful Mosque. 

I kind of got really excited when the Mosque came into view! I was hoping to spot my future husband through the back window of the van where I was seated in the last row cushioned quite comfortably between the warm, soft, and fluffy lady seated next to me, and the carpeted arm-rest to the right of me.  I was hoping to catch a glimpse of an extraordinarily handsome man so I could fantasize about our future together as I sat in prison for the next five years.  But, alas (and woe is me)... it didn't happen. I saw no one going in or out of any of those places along the way.  That was disappointing. Bleh!

We arrived at the prison camp sooner than I had wanted.  I was quite enjoying my temporary sojourn from prison. First a plane ride, then a land tour! Not too shabby for my last day "outside the fence."

We were transported wearing shackles, cuffs and chains, as usual - in case we tried for a daring escape before arriving at our loosely secured prison camp where anyone can freely walk out without much effort. But, Dont' Try It!!! It's rumored to cost you an "escape" charge, with a five year, day-for-day penalty added to your current sentence! So not worth it - unless you were dying tomorrow, then MAYBE it would be worth some further contemplation. But you better get that prognosis in writing straight from God first, because you just might live a little longer, and the Feds will make every minute of your extended life a living hell if you do live to see another day.

In other words, for those of you who are s-l-o-w to figure that I'M KIDDING...don't even THINK about it!!! You are not El Chapo, your tunnel has not been pre-dug for you, and when you do make your way to the shower area, it will only be to wash your ass - not your pathway to freedom!

Okay, now that we got those thoughts out of your head, and me out of further hot water with the Feds... let's talk some more about first day federal prison blues.

Federal prison camp has an intake process a little bit like the state's intake process, only much better.  Upon arrival, you are delivered to an administration area called R&D (Receiving and Discharge), where you are welcomed, given a place to sit, a hot meal, a prison issue uniform, shoes, underwear, a hygiene pack (same indigent pack - nothing fancy from Bath and Body works), and a bed roll - two cotton blankets, two sheets, a pillow case, and towels.  Here is where you are processed in, fingerprinted, mug-shotted (yes, I made that word up - like it?) and assigned to your housing unit.

After a few hours of processing, you are then escorted into the prison compound where your first reaction will most undoubtedly be ... What?!?! THIS is prison?!?!

Yes. It is.

Welcome to federal prison camp where the grass really does grow greener, the flowers bloom more fragrant, and the sweet smell of freedom wafts through the air conditioned air.

At your housing unit, you will be greeted by the Big Sisters - a welcoming committee that assigns a big sister to you by race or ethnic makeup. A little unlike a sorority's methods of assigning big sisters to new pledges, but the overall concept is very much the same.

Your big sister will walk you to your room (usually the temporary "Bus Stop" of about ten beds per room), provide you with much needed essentials (like coffee, good soap, and shower shoes), and give you a brief orientation on how to place a phone call and/or send email to let your family know that you are okay - you've made it through your first day of prison.  You both can breathe easier now.

The next few days will be filled with getting acquainted with the different programs offered (both leisure and educational), orientation, a campus tour, shopping and the issuing of uniforms.  There are no safety issues or concerns at federal prison camp. Here, you are safe and well taken care of. Tell momma not to worry.

Next week, we will talk about the state admission process to maximum security prison.

If you have any questions about prison, just submit them through the comments section down below, and I will do my best to answer them for you from my own personal experience and available resources.

Okay...talk to you then!