I am sad to report that Foghorn Leghorn & his drunk girlfriend made it all the way to Tennessee and back without one drunken encounter with law enforcement. I have to believe the police aren’t trying hard enough.
On to the bitching and moaning…I quit smoking and I’m not the least bit happy about it. I came down with some nasty virus and when I ran out of cigarettes I was too sick to go to the store to buy more. People at work started making a big deal about it, so now I feel like I’m an unwilling participant in something I didn’t plan on doing. It has been 9 days since I’ve had a cigarette, 9 days of hating the world.
I started smoking when I was 43 years old. Until then I was the most hateful anti-smoker around. I never thought I would be a smoker, but one night at the Harribalsac I asked for a cigarette, and just like that a bad habit was born.
So for the last 5 years I’ve been a smoker. I smoked about a pack a day for a year, then I smoked half a pack for a while, then I smoked 4-5 a day. For the last two years I’ve smoked 3 cigarettes a day: one on the way to work, one half way through my shift, and one on the way home from work. Now I see no reason to go to work, no reason to take a break, and no reason to drive home.
I don’t want to be a quitter!
I hear previous smokers say how much better their lives are now that they quit: food tastes better, their sense of smell improves, they are suddenly healthy and vital, unicorns fly out of their ass. Whatever. It’s all a bunch of bullshit designed to make their smoking friends just as miserable as they are.
I feel like punching a kitten.