Right here. When my girlfriend (who recently told me to get off my lazy ass and update this motherfucking blog already, but in a less Samuel L. Jackson-ish tone than that) and I get married, that’s the first thing we’re going to do: hit a guy with a shoe, both of us, so we can honeymoon in a luxurious prison cell that boasts amenities like a creaky cot and a toilet that hasn’t worked since 1973. Truth be told, I’d rather spend a week in France or go to a quiet bed and breakfast for a few days, but she’s a Roger Corman fan and you know how he romanticized women’s prisons…