All this stress is taking its toll on my body. My thick luscious locks of love are gone, forever gone. If only my hair would start growing again then I can prove I’m Oscar! On the other hand… my baldness might have some advantages since my sweet mate keeps saying how attracted he is to long hair. Something about long hair reminding him of a “sexy lion”. Not sure how to take that.

Please world, help me! I don’t want to know what a sexy lion is!

They took away my internet privledges because according to them “posting crazy rants about not being George isn’t a legitimate reason to spend 10 hours on the internet per day”. The last couple months have been miserable! Although I admit after reading my niece’s husband’s book The Man Inside Me to pass the time, nights with my sweet mate haven’t been as bad. 

I smuggled a cell phone inside (of me) so I can get my word out again! Can anyone see this? Please send help!

Tonight we had a movie night. We were given stale popcorn and water, and the movie was a homemade video of the warden acting out New Warden. Every single part and character.

My life is no longer an empty shell. It has since been filled with terrible “cinema” and the butterless foam they seem to call “popcorn”.

Does anybody know how to make a proper shank? I tried to myself, using some dense soap, but apparently it wasn’t dense enough as the other inmates took it as an invitation. Why do these things keep happening to me?!

It really is! Geraldo, an inmate a few cells down from mine, is threatening me, telling me to use all my money in the outside world to get him out of here. I keep trying to tell him I’m not at all rich, that George Sr. was the rich one, but he says we’re the same person! Why can’t he connect the dots and see that if I was rich, I’d have broken myself out long ago. I’m Oscar! I was tricked into this mess. Why won’t anyone listen to me?

As retribution for not calling him ‘Chief Wigwam’ last night, my sweet mate forced me to play baseball today. I kept telling him that it was my brother George not I, OSCAR, who was good at baseball. He of course did not believe me and gave me the choice of either playing baseball or getting stabbed. After dropping 4 fly balls and striking out 3 times, I was still stabbed - repeatedly. 

Is anyone out there? Does no one care? I’m Oscar Bluth and I can’t lose any more blood.

Out of all the movies that involve a prison breakout, none of them have an ounce of reality in them.

Pull toilet off the wall and dig a hidden tunnel? REBAR. Can’t use your spoon to dig past that.

Hire outside team of mercenaries or gang members to break you out? Can’t contact them, and all the phone numbers the inmates give you in exchange for favors of the intimate nature, well they’re fake, but you don’t find that out until after the deed is done. Or in my case, deeds. I should have known better the second time; it was the same guy.

What am I going to do?

This place is getting to me more and more. Everyone’s out of their minds! Even your cellmate who has been “saved by Jesus” can turn on you for simple things, like using the toilet where he does his so-called baptisms. My head still hurts from a week ago when he used his bible to smack me repeatedly for “being a whorish sinner”. All I said was how much I could use some Afternoon Delight. How was I supposed to know that that’s what the other inmates call taking showers at noon? I don’t know how much longer I can take these beatings. If anyone is reading this blog, I’m Oscar Bluth and I’m the innocent one!

I was given laundry duty today. As I was putting clothes into the washer, I saw that there was a man hiding in the laundry bin. After telling him that the laundry isn’t sent out of prison to be cleaned, he decided to take his anger out on me, Oscar Bluth, NOT GEORGE SR.! It was a good thing there were so many rags to soak up the blood. I decided to rest until the bleeding stopped, but then a guard came in and took away my courtyard privileges for not working. I explained what happened but he didn’t believe me, calling me a “liar” and mocking me for being “Omar, not George Sr.”. It’s OSCAR, and I really am him! My name is Oscar Bluth and I am not a liar. I need to get out of here!

Today the prison psychologist gave me a poetry assignment, she thinks I need to get my emotions out on paper and maybe then I’ll accept my new life here and start fitting in with the other inmates. I keep telling her I don’t want to fit in because I’m not George Sr., I’m Oscar Bluth! I’d like to see her survive ping-pong night – I’ve learned to do it with a smile…A SMILE! And she’s just one more person I can add the list of people not reading my blog. What does it take to get people to read my f’ing blog?! What’s more interesting, an innocent man in prison blogging for his life or “Snuppy” the first cloned dog? If anyone out there in cyberspace is listening – I’m Oscar Bluth and here are two haikus.

“Jerome”

The damage is done
Should I try to run? No, no.
I have a boyfriend“Bitch no more”

Ceremonious
Mister rapist be wary
I been working out