The Bronx finally has its very own hostage!

The Stadium Shelter for women: The Osama bread bin box of the Bronx is in tears, thankful that frying their brains by  "Hispanicking" with enough dedication to cause themselves a perpetual identity crisis between their Contra and their Iran, literalized in Martin Luther King Street y University Ave at long last HAS paid off!

Latest news scheduled: a cheery musical treat early Saturday morning calling for me to be terrified well deservedly by their sweet voices due to stealing a roll of toilet paper from the room's bathroom, then declaring at Operations, or, main reception, that there was no more toilet paper in the whole shelter and on a Saturday, this by having a client enact a Shakesperian drama before I could ask for one, requesting same. Main reception limited itself to reading my complaint and having an idiot wearing a Halloween costume badge listed as Officer say to me that what I needed to do to get taped by Nazi radio was to let the roommates talk to themselves but really mean me, and not  reply because they're schizophrenic.Also a transfer to another room would not even be worse but have hygienic consequences as well.

Mejia a social worker finally gave me a residency letter yesterday in an office with papers from a file strewn on the floor for unknown reasons telling me I would have a new social worker as to my request. My new social worker is a name like so many others, Jasmilka Gonzalez, at 718.588.5400 extension 8237 which answers in burro Department of Education saying leave a message hanging up instead, and the appointment is at 3.20PM on April 29, 2014, completely untenable for me, so I said to a security officer standing one foot from, leaning over me while I was writing a comment rushing me to sign the form instead, wait I need to write that I can't make it and to call me.

So the one roommate looking like Tony Gonzales chairperson of Queens College CUNY but in I have a sorry black ass AND I get anybody who lands in bed x flung to Hiroshima minutes before Enola Gay and they're US democrats on top of which I 'm destroying your tooth while you sleep through my grandmaster flesh connection snores but does not sleep, and the other resembling Marilla Palmer as wedded in a bog to Gheddafi since on the pay of the We Will Get You Back For Killing Gheddafi Stamp Club through Sacred Heart and Gynaeceum, a charity, so, she starts saying did you  sit on my bed while I'm fucking minding my own business so the question is repeated again, and again, until I understand she means me, when she repeats my name, Alexandra Maffei, that I never told her or the rest of them, because I don't talk to them since I can't get a word in due to the constant harassment and I say no, because I don't know their names due to their excellent expert spy habits, not because I don't know they have more first and last names than Bourbon Spanish streetsweepers . Then she proceeds to reiterate Sleepy's threats earlier this morning, that she'll get me to read the bible someday, she had all sorts in storage, so Dopey starts equiparating drug and drink to reading, covering the catholic versus Lutheran religious war and the counterreformation land grab in our fell swoop,  then says speaking to others is considered social climbing, with male security bursting in the moment after her statement hits the floor softly like a plucked belly feather from a sleeping swan because monogamous, so married, thinking that and not psychological testing will skill him for special ops, says we, or, the man on the floor, whose coming was announced as a viceroy's by his female security floor officer, who nepotistically reliquaried his job too, by f* it as a small altar child gingerbread man in linear F time, says we, do not wish to be ridiculed in our values and anticipates the time he'll expose me in a chickenwire cage convinced that having my arm severed without anaesthesia is moving up in life, an, audibly, with glee in his voice, we have ourselves a hostage now!