Incarcerate-A-Pia

We have some really big plants here at the dealership
("Warford's talking about plants today. I think he's lost his edge.").
I just assumed that they were fake because they look sort of fake.
They also look tropical.
Turns out you can grow plants inside.
I say we should get an orange tree in here and throw away the service department's fruit basket.
Some woman comes in and tends to the plants.
You can tell that she's a plant woman because she carries misting bottles and she doesn't seem to want to speak to anyone.
I suggested that she get some ivy in here to give the place a real academic look, and she muttered something about our already having ivy in here.
That's another bridge burned.
But enough about spinsters.

Pia's in hot water again, apparently.
For those of you just out of cryogenic freezing tubes, Pia is some broad who starred in some shitty movies.
She's significant to yours truly, however, because she ended up on a shirt that ended up on my body some ten years ago.
A Warford wardrobe staple for eons, perhaps my most distinctive, Pia is still around and occasionally worn to this day.
The shirt, I can depend on.
The actual woman, however, seems a little less reliable.
Today she is in the news because parenting is hard.
But not as hard as being washed up.
Case and point:
Imagine having your mugshot taken.
You're tired and you're in police custody.
You have to sit around for hours, like a doctor's waiting room.
The difference being that detainment doesn't have magazines.
However, instead of waiting to get a new prescription for your percocet, you're waiting to be de-loused.
But first thing's first.
The mug shot.
This is the only image that will turn out looking shittier than your passport photo.
The reason being, you're photographed at your zenith of shame.
Unless you're one of those 'in-it-for-the-glory' bank robbers.
Your hair is probably all frazzled.
You're holding that little ticker sign which displays your measurements right on there (like a piece of meat!).
And as the bulb flashes, you know that your mom fucked up somewhere along the way.
It's all in the photo.
Doesn't sound pleasant, does it?
Now imagine going through that process, all the while thinking to yourself:
"Those fuckers at TMZ are going to be all over this."