Farewell, Cigarettes

Or at least for now…

For the nth time, shitty circumstances have again caught me up and the conniving bastards are forcing my skinny arse to quit smoking. Or at least try to. Piss off if you’ve never caught the evil habit, partaken and thus regret the day you started. I mean, lucky you. I’m starting to turn Simpson yellow, can’t get on public transport anywhere and my lungs protest at the slightest incline – ha, probably give up completely if they saw Mount Apo. I just got my handy dandy Mr. Zippo lighter confiscated by mother dear… Yeah, mama caught my skinny arse smoking in the back yard. Anyway, this is going to be hard work, nonetheless – I had my first ciggy at 7 years old and I’m now nudging (in a gentle but alluring fashion) 22.

Word to the wise – buy shares in Wrigleys now, dump Marlboro shares. I used to smoke 3 freaking packs of those cancer sticks when I was in college. That’s about 60 ciggies a day, mister. Yeah, oral fixation, as the cliché goes. Now I’m going to try and compensate using chewing gum. Or biting my polished fingernails. Or sucking on…something. What?! Haha.

40 tabs a day to nada is going to take some doing but if I can’t, well, I can’t. It might be really arsey for a few weeks – first time I attempted to quit (for a couple of hours), I was becoming a cantankerous fishwife in seconds. Yeah, cantankerous. Like a mad whore from hell. Anyway, afterwards, I’ll be able to smell things again, stop regurgitating my lungs every morning and be hyper-critical of people who smoke. So yeah, better stay out of my way if you don’t want to be kicked in the bollocks. Oh, and I won’t worry about turning myself into a human(ish) bonfire by falling asleep pissed with a tab in hand.

Thinking about it though, what am I to do with empty beer cans? What about those empty tins of Pringles piled over there? Great ashtrays. I suppose I’ll overdose on chewing cocktail sticks. Eek, I wonder if I’ll be able to smell my pseudo-intellectual brain farts when I don’t smoke anymore?!?!

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