So, in December of 2008 my maternal uncle was back in the pokey. Now that I look back I realize that the only time he intentionally reaches out to me is when he is locked up. Hmm. Food for thought, no?

Even though he IS blood there are times, more often than not, that I want to just bean him. Wallop him, and his zombie girlfriend who also is sucking off the teet staying here. (Seriously. Her given name is Dawn, and around these here parts, she is referred to as "Dawn of the Dead". Meth? It is NOT kind to you.)

Anyway, this evening Harry and I were going back and forth, and he mentioned that I should write about my "criminal uncle". Since internet access in prison is spotty at best, and orange is a HORRIBLE colour for a redhead, these are the thoughts that keep me keepin' on. (And keep me keepin' myself out of prison, and out of following in father's footsteps.)

Following, for your edification, are some of the thoughts that keep me from murderalizing my uncle. PLEASE feel free to add your own thoughts in the comments.
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To start off, Harry offers this random statement to mutter to my uncle, just to keep him on his toes: "Internet access is the only thing keeping you alive!"

Mine? This is what I wish I could say, out loud, just to make him them wonder ...

"There's not enough bleach in the world that could cover up my actions thoughts."

"Too bad I'm not conversant with the most recent forensic techniques. C'mon, CSI, help me out here! (And why, oh why, did you have to kill off Warrick? Bastards.)"

"Stupid alibi has tickets to the Jonas Brothers."

"I wonder if I could start my own pig farm ... "
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Add to this list (please!). Think of it as your civic duty to keep me a free woman. (And out of orange. Nobody deserves orange.)