Adventures in not smoking

One subject I’m not proud of is my relationship with cigarettes or stogs as my friends and I usually call them when we’re out. While I did quit for the better part of ten entire months from last year, getting laid off has made those sticks of tobacco that much more a necessity as I navigate the life of the unemployed. Fun fact and not surprisingly: it sucks. Every now and again, I like to joke around how I’m actually “cutting back”.

If I was SpongeBob, Patrick is my friend Julian

For smokers this means one of two things. One, “I’m bullshitting you”. Two, “I’m smoking less”. I guess you can consider me somewhere in-between those two statements with a splash of humor thrown in. See, I use to smoke two packs a day and only the blacks as my friends and I call them. That’s smokers talk for being badass and smoking heavy flavored tobacco around the clock. Now, I only smoke one pack every two days. By any stretch of the imagination, that is still ridiculous and a future train wreck waiting to happen upon my poor lungs and whatever nicotine throws down my insides.

How do I feel now you might ask? Absolutely tired and sleepy. If I had energy, it surely wasn’t around for too long. My body feels a lot like that fatigue you get from a hard night of partying and dancing, minus the hangover and lingering smell of vodka in the room of course. How did Don Draper do this is beyond me. I’m not a fan of old fashions and whiskey, but give me a fancy suit, skinny tie, and slicked back hair any day. As a broom-riding witch says, “Oh my stars”.

Tomorrow is day two. I’m terrified of that statement.

Later world and a can of Coke.