Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Stonie: My Personal Urbandictionary

A while back I brought up my incarceration and that I walked away from it craving a cigarette something fierce and, more importantly, a whole bunch of stories.  Coincidentally, the same week I got out, Facebook was doing a thing where people looked up the 'urban' meaning of their name on Urbandictionary.

Mine goes like this...

Triumph; desimates all in its path; very strong.


Strong, Protector, Lover, Fighter, Warrior. Stay on thier good side! If your a man he can be your best friend or your worst nightmare. If your a woman, wrap your arms and legs around him and hold on tight! If he is ambivilent towards you, embrace the fact that you are probably a loser.

and my favorite

Random Orgasmic Noise - Made usually after hearing some good news, a happy time in a woman's life and  more than likely heard several time during an evening with the handsome author of scuzzymoney.blogspot.com.   Example : "Ooooohhhhh Ron!" *orgasmic noise*


Let me tell you about 'urban'.

Here's one for you, to help you understand 'urban'.

Stonie was an inmate I met in County, but first a little back story.  The first day I walked in to jail and threw my mat on the floor, I pretty much didn't have what you might call an appetite, especially after taking my first whiff of the gruel that the justice system likes to call food but I found it to be more of an abstract form of inedible nutrition  The guards just liked to laugh when tossing it our direction, as if we were filthy swine. (Truthfully, that isn't so far from the truth, but that's for another day.)  Anyway,  Stonie was a fellow law breaker (although he was in on heroine possession and gun charges, and happened to be number 2 on Spokane's most wanted list) who had absolutely no problem eating what I didn't and I had no problem giving it to him, especially after the two hundred and forty pound, heavily tattooed man...well, let's just say, he wanted it.  Who was I to argue?  After some time, and the fact that I 'voluntarily' gave up my chow, Stonie and me got to be fast friends.

This is when Stonie began to let the stories begin, and his lessons in proper street talk began, like shootin' a vein with good ol' fashion 'brown'.

The second day in I learned a couple things.  First, and before he began, he had to light up a cigarette.  He said it calmed him, that in order to get the proper inflections and tones and make sure the subject matter fit just right, he had to have a smoke.

"Stonie, how you gonna light that up?" I asked.  He smiled, and proceeded to take down an overhead halogen light bulb, smash it to bits and use the end pieces, connecting this little thingy majig to this other whatchamacalit, then stuck it back into the little hole in the wall where it came from and Paachowy!!! Cigarette lit.

The only thing I could say was, "You really smuggled that in, huh?  Really?  Up your ass?"

Stonie smiled. (Always smiling, he was. The happiest felon I'd ever met)  "They don't call me the Keister Bunny for nothin'."

Then, and as much pain as it still causes me just thinking about, he told me that when all veins collapse from shooting up since the ripe old age of fourteen, a decent substitute is the penis!  YES!  I said PENIS!  Truly, when I went in, my intention was to look at this experience as positive, maybe actually 'research' it for my writing and just get through it unscathed.  PENIS! 

Okay, physically I'm fine, psychologically...scarred for life.

Oh, you're welcome.

The next thing he taught me was about love.  And not the soap-on-a-rope kind of love, you sick bastards!  No, about 'poundin' guts'.  Poundin' guts, bustin' guts, slammiin' guts.  All the same thing.  Sex.  It's when you have sex with you're significant other, or your wife or the way Stonie liked to put it, "When I get out of here, first thing I'm gonna do is get me some dope and then slam some guts with my bitch."

Sincerely and with the complete zeal and naive way I have about me, I asked, "Isn't bitch kind of...uh...demeaning?"  The way he told it, 'bitch' was properly used, not only as a derogatory slam on a person of female persuasion, but also when referring to the bitch that you're going to spend the rest of your life with, or until she stopped dealing your 'skag' in fear of being busted by 'jakes'.

The guy's a real romantic, and besides, who am I to argue?


  1. Wowee zowie, that guy sounds like a true romantic, if I've ever heard of one. Yikes.

  2. He sounds so sweet, do you keep in touch with him now that you are out?

  3. Nope, haven't kept in touch with Stonie. Probably locked in the 'hole' or just chillin' with his 'bitch' somewhere.

    Got to love felonious love.