I Look Good In Orange

May 03

womeninorange.jpgAdmit it. There’s something illegal you really, really want to do.

You don’t do it because you’d probably go to jail, your mother told you it was wrong, you’d probably go to jail, it would be immoral, you’d probably go to jail, it would be bad for your karma, and you’d probably go to jail.

You do the crime, you do the time.

And even though I do look good in orange, me in the slammer would not be a pretty sight. For starters, they’d never let me bring in my hair dryer, let alone those all-too-necessary tweezers. Besides, I have a problem with authority figures, and I’m not good at staying in line. But if all that weren’t the case, I’d be tempted to walk on the illegal side, just a little around the edges.

Crimes I’d like to commit include, but are not limited to, the following:

•Max out the cash option on all my credit cards, take the money and run —
 to Brazil, where I’d sit in the sun and stroll to outdoor bars and drink caipirinhas, those cool drinks they all have down there.
Why I won’t do it:
The women in Brazil look fantastic, and every one of them has had plastic surgery, so  I would feel like a fossil sipping cocktails in a bar, much less sunning on the beach. Besides, these women get Brazilians, those wax jobs they get down there, literally. Ouch! Not going to touch that.

But there are other things I could do, closer to home . . .

Smack that annoying woman on the Crosstown Bus.
Not enough to inflict serious damage, but just enough to get her attention and make her stop cursing on her cell phone. Did I mention that she has a volume control disorder?
Why I won’t do it:
That woman is big, and if she retaliated, which she most certainly would, I wouldn’t have a prayer. She might be the one to end up in the slammer, which could be a nice form of revenge. but that could involve pain. For me. Forget it.

Tie the kids in the apartment directly above ours to the radiator.
Okay, they have covers — the radiators, not the kids — but I’d find a way.
No judge or jury in the land would find me guilty if they spent a day in my slippers (the kids, on the other hand, must be wearing combat boots).
It would be justifiable bonditude, or jury nullification at the very least. Man, those kids can sure stomp around. Of course, in order to bind up the little buggers, I’d have to break and enter. That ups the ante on jail time.
Why I won’t do it:
I can’t think of a single reason, except that I don’t know how to break and enter. Maybe they’ll move.

Sneak into shoe stores and saw off the 5 or 6 inch spike heels that tempt and mock me.
That way, when I walk among women I would look merely petite, and not like a midget. Because, honestly,  I can’t even stand up in anything over 2 inches.
Why I won’t do it:
This, too, would involve breaking and entering. Jail time for sure. Also, I don’t own a saw.
Not worth it. Let them wear heels.

Track down the producer of that radio show who stole my script for The 13th Floor
and steal something of his.
Why I won’t do it:
He’s probably dead by now.

Pull off one really big scam and live the rest of my life in total luxury.
This has been a fantasy of mine for years. Yours, too?
Why I won’t do it:
It might hurt someone.
Okay, I’m a bad liar. The real reason: I can’t think of a really big scam I could actually pull off,  because I’m a bad liar.

Kidnap Goerge Clooney and make him take me to his villa on Lake Como, where I’d finally learn Italian and who knows what else.
Why I won’t do it:
Who sez I won’t do it!

Hey, I told you I look good in orange.

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