Tuesday, March 10th, 2009
So, my friend Nads and I were at the Raptors game on Sunday and the topic of Chris Brown and Rihanna came up.
“Speaking of abusive douchbags,” I say to Nads. “I have to give evidence in that case against my ex tomorrow.”
“Ohhhh,” says Nads, followed by a long pause. “So, have you decided what you’re going to wear yet?” Some people just know me too well.
Let me give you some background:
Last year, after I discovered that my then boyfriend (let’s call him Prison Break) had actually been seeing and living with some other chick (let’s call her Dumb Ass), a little drama ensued. He found out that I knew about Dumb Ass and decided to come to my house to deny the whole thing. Here’s what happened:
-He stood on my doorstep for approximately 20 minutes to half an hour, completely denying Dumb Ass’s very existence.
- I asked him, several times, to leave.
- When the sound of his voice became more annoying than T Pain’s auto-tune, I decided it was time for me to close the door.
- He put his foot in the door, pushed it open, got a little physical with me to get me out of the way and went upstairs to my apartment.
- On his way up the stairs, I told him I was calling the police, which I did.
- While I was on the phone to the police, he came down the stairs with my computer, shoved past me and walked out (stealing said computer).
- Police showed up, took my statement.
- Following morning, I discover that Prison Break has also stolen my lovely D&G watch. I called police to let them know of that little development.
- Over the next 36 hours, Prison Break, called me a few times to try and bribe/intimidate me into dropping the charges. He professed several times that he wasn’t scared of jail, yet mysteriously, my stolen property showed up in a Happy Birthday bag in my back yard the next day (you can’t make this shit up).
- What Prison Break failed to realise is that there was still the little matter of assault to deal with and those charges cannot be dropped, along with the charge of unlawfully in a dwelling. And so, we waited for a court date.
That day came yesterday.
The Victim/Witness Officer told me to arrive early so she could talk me through what happens in court . Then I waited. Then the Crown (prosecuting lawyer) came and told me what to expect. Then I waited. Then the court officer came and told me that Prison Break’s lawyer wasn’t there yet so it’d be a while longer. So I waited. Then the court officer came back and told me that Prison Break was making his way up to the court now, that he’s in custody, because apparently, he’s currently being held on fraud charges. I found it hard to muffle a smile. And I waited.
Eventually, it was go time. I was taken down to the courts. The hallway outside the courts was an absolute zoo. Fifteen year old girls with their screaming babies, accused men sitting around waiting, arguments, lawyers roaming around. I was told to wait outside the court room. The court officer waited with me for about five minutes, then got impatient and went to see what was going on, leaving me with Toronto’s riff raff. Finally a victim/witness officer showed up to keep me company. She gave me a speech about keeping calm and remaining focussed. Meanwhile I’m sitting next to a huge guy with a shaved head and a tattoo on his neck. I did not feel comforted.
Eventually, I’m called into court and take the stand. I’d like to direct the rest of this post directly to Prison Break, if I may:
- I’m glad I didn’t have to look at you through the whole thing. By the way, were those handcuffs a little tight? Cry me a river , bitch
- Next time you want to bring a friend into the courtroom to try to intimidate me with the hard stares, can you make sure it’s a big Mr T-looking dude? The friend you chose is about two feet shorter than me. I could drop kick him in the throat and puncture his lung with my stiletto, no questions asked. I am not scared of you or your weak ass boys.
- Did your lawyer think we were on Law and Order? His whole ‘I suggest to you that Mr Prison Break never entered your apartment that night, isn’t that right Ms Carey-Campbell?’ thing was weak/bordering on hilarious.
- Did you really think I would drop the charges?
- I saw Dumb Ass come into the court. She’s still with your lame ass? You should really get her tested to see if she’s ‘special’. She’s entered an entire new league of stupid that I didn’t know existed.
- Even though you were found not guilty, I don’t even care. You’ll most likely be in and out of jail for the rest of your life, I don’t doubt, since you are clearly truth-deficient. This was more about me seeing this through and not letting you bully me. It is not OK to try to get what you want through force, fear and intimidation. I will not be the chick to just lie down and take it. That’s what you have Dumb Ass for.
So when you finally do go to jail on those fraud charges, always remember: don’t drop the soap, motherfucker!
Tuesday, August 12th, 2008
A couple of nights ago, I vowed to have a night in, relax and take in some craptacular TV. I flicked through the channels, bored with the plethora of infomercials, news shows and tacky dramas when I stumbled across a little broadcast that caught my eye: Prisoners Out of Control.
People, let me tell you, if you’re looking for entertainment, real life drama and a horror flick all rolled into one, look no further than this show. From the opening real life CCTV shot of an inmate taking a guard hostage, I was hooked.
This hour long freak fest featured footage from prisons all over the world. Everything from fights, stabbings, murders, to full on riots, this show had it all. It really was an education in homemade weapons. If I ever find myself in an Oz like situation, I’ll definitely know how to make a shank out of my toothbrush and take one of these motherbitches out.
It also reaffirmed for me that I never want to be a prisoner, prison guard or even live in the same area code as a prison.
The more I watched, the more I became convinced that this show shouldn’t be called Prisoners Out of Control. It should be called Prisoners Being Themselves. They’re in prison for God’s sake. What the hell else are they gonna do? It’s not like they’re all sitting around in there drinking tea and playing Connect 4. Starting fights in the mess hall, fashioning daggers out of spare materials, setting fires, rioting – all good ways to pass the time when you’re doing twenty-to-life.
Then, when I’d sat through an hour of this, right at the very end, some very serious looking white haired dude came on talking about the horrors we’d just witnessed and said, ‘but the real horror is that a great many of these criminals, will one day, be back out on the streets.’
What the frik?! Umm, thanks for the sleepless night, asshole.