Monday, March 19, 2007

Smoking Is Naughty!

Dear Friends,

Some of you know it, some of you don't: I quit smoking on March 1. I haven't cheated, not once! I've quit before, back when I was playing housewife, but I started again when I moved to New York. It has taken me awhile (what? what? five years is "awhile") but I've finally quit again. I intend to stick with it until I am truly and completely done with it. Should be highly annoying, difficult, discouraging, and altogether soul crushing, but at least I'll be smoke free!

Just so you know: Part of the process is the whining, moaning, and general grousing about giving up the yummy lung candy. I am allowed to caterwaul ALL I WANT because HEY! I AM NOT SMOKING! So nyeh.

I've been obsessing about it for months, but when my dear friend Snarkygirl quit I knew I had to join her. It is so much better when you have a compassionate soul sister. THANK YOU, kitten! Snarkygirl made a list of some positives so I am going to copy her--as we all do around here, I am also wearing her sweater today--but I'm also going to list some negatives because, in case I hadn't mentioned it, I get to kick and scream, too!


1. I can breathe.
2. I can sleep on my back.
3. I'm not hemorrhaging money.
4. I might live to see 65.
5. I don't smell like an ashtray.
6. My apartment doesn't smell like an ashtray.
7. I'm not a slave to the habit.
8. I'm not measuring the length of my days in cigarettes.
9. I'm not getting as many dirty looks as before.
10. The gum works exceedingly well.


1. I can smell New York even better now. Mmm, sourmilkcottoncandychumvomit!
2. I'm not sleeping through the night anymore. And the boyfriend's snoring keeps me up all. night. long.
3. Nicorette is expensive. It should be free. Or a nickle a piece.
4. I may live a loooong life without the sweet, sweet lungcandy that is cigarette smoke.
5. I still do smell like an ashtray on Mondays and Thursdays after I've stayed over at the boyfriend's because he will never, ever quit.
6. My neighbor smokes some kind of witchgrass hellweed in the hallway. It creeps under the door and into my apartment daily.
7. I don't know what to do with myself sometimes. I just wander the apartment, looking for crack.
8. No counter to measuring the really is all good.
9. This is New York, full of bitches. Dirty looks will happen regardless of habits.
10. The gum tastes like poison pepper laced with mint arsenic. Funny how such a nasty taste is so quickly associated with a near ecstasy of relief...or nausea if you chew it too enthusiastically.

Truth be told, I really wasn't "enjoying" smoking anymore. For those of you who have never smoked, you won't understand that, but it really can be a pleasurable experience. Luckily for me, the whole act was nothing but burden anymore. Lucky, lucky, lucky. Right. Now if I could just get over the pain of a broken is like an ex-boyfriend. You don't miss his curlies in the sink, jokes involving well-timed gas, pee on the rim, constant nitpicking, male PMS, wandering eyes, crooked teeth, and misguided love for stankbutt colognes...but you miss his sorry ass anyway because he was funny, silly, sincere, expressive and, let's face it: you loved him. Ack! Whatever. So annoying. I shall never love again! In the meantime, where is my freaking GUM?


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