I'm assuming most of you spent last night watching or not watching or pretending not to watch the Academy Awards. The last time I watched the Academy Awards I was at a friend's house smoking cigarettes, drinking beer and eating Thai food. This time, I was at home, on the sofa, in the basement getting more and more irritated with Anne Hathaway. And I truly felt bad for Geoffrey Rush because he was so great in the King's Speech, but I hearted The Fighter and so I was really happy for Christian Bale.
Now if you didn't see the Academy Awards, let me recap... The Kings Speech, The Fighter, The Kings Speech, The Fighter... and I turned on the television right when they decided to play the scene from TKS where Colin/Duke of York is smoking a cigarette and telling Geoffrey Rush that his "knighted" speech therapist told him smoking would help relax his throat. Can I just tell you that I saw The Kings Speech by myself because I couldn't get any of my friends to watch a movie about a guy who stuttered ...even if he was the King of England... and I was kind of happy that I got to go alone.
For one thing, I was the youngest person in the theater and I sat in front of two MBA students (okay, so maybe they were younger) but I got a lot of really good financial advice I'll never use for free! And because Colin Firth smokes throughout the movie what looked like Marlboro 27s, I decided afterwards that well... the King of England got to relax his throat muscles by smoking, then why the hell shouldn't I? Stupid... I know that now... but I have become very good at justifying/rationalizing everything I do only later to contradict myself. Bad habit # 527.
Anyway, it's now 7:09 am... I've been sitting here for half an hour typing this because it's 7:10 am now and I'm the only one in the office, because why on earth would anyone come in so early unless they were giving up cigarettes and operating on the same schedule as the Northeastern Chickadee population. God those damn birds are so annoying...
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Gym Clowns
Preface: Longest day ever...feeling effects of (see below) and literally just electrocuted myself trying to unplug my laptop. I'm on a roll... Anyway, I told you I'd be back to write you some ridiculousness... So here goes:
Yesterday I woke up, went to Starbucks and was planning my morning run when a friend called and asked if I wanted to go with her and her friend to the Grand Opening of a new gym. "There will be snacks and free shit"...she says.
Please note: I already belong to an overpriced, very popular "luxury..." gym in the city with access to multiple cross country locations. Also please note: I'm an asshole because I literally pay for this membership so I can run on a treadmill (and I own a treadmill....). I think I've been to two classes in 3 years... one spinning class which I loved but couldn't walk right for a week afterward, and then one hip hop dance class (shutup) which I was dragged to by a friend because she thought the trainer was hot. (He wasn't and neither was the class). Anyway back to yesterday...
I thought, well...the weather is mediocre and it would probably be better to work out with friends so why not. When we arrived, the gym was one of these suburban behemoth type places filled with balloons but...that wasn't what bothered me (okay it did a little) but more so.... was the fact that it only took 2.5 seconds before I spotted a clown. (I didn't spot the pirate until we were leaving). If you see a clown in a gym, you should just leave. Immediately. But we were there, and we were being swarmed by sales reps and personal trainers wanting to sell and assess... I was hassled less than my friend but that's probably because I had this, "I can't believe I'm looking at a f-ing clown right now" look on my face... in what is supposed to be some premier gym and there are kids running around touching everything and coughing and drooling and all I want to do is get on a treadmill and run for 3 miles tops. So after about 20 minutes of walking around and getting our bearings, I finally hopped on a treadmill and did what I always do.... plugged in ear buds to my iPhone, picked a song, put it on repeat and then hit "Quick Start."
I was doing good...started slow, and every mile kicked it up a notch... but at mile 2 a woman got onto the treadmill next to me. I hate when this happens. I hate when this happens even more when there are 10 other treadmills not being used. I like to zone out when running so I gave her the once over and kept it moving... (by the way.... I have to in good conscience just put this out there... please don't wear animal print to the gym. Ever. It's wrong. And it's more wrong when you can't fit the print. It's almost sadder than the clown...)
So I'm running, and I'm not a fast runner so I'm gliding along at a leisurely pace and checking my email and I can feel her looking at me, and at my machine. And I'm running, and I'm thinking "if you don't stop looking at my screen..." but she keeps doing it. I don't care okay? I was running a 13 minute mile at that point and yes I know that's slow as hell, but what do I care? I'm not sitting on the couch so whatever. But it's annoying to have someone constantly turning to look at you and your stats while you run.
This lady by the way looked like she should be in a water aerobics class. Seriously. Plus I hear animal print is acceptable there. Anyway, I thought fine... you want to stare? And with that I upped my speed considerably. I'm not even going to tell you what I set it to but it was ridiculous and I had no business running that fast (especially since I am coming back from a workout layover). So I'm running fast, and feeling good...so good I don't even notice the woman has left... and I'm not feeling terrible. I didn't even feel...tired so I decided I would make it to 5 miles and call it quits, and at that point I felt I could have run 10 because all I had all day was coffee and tea... so I was highly caffeinated (I know...I'm replacing substances...already got the "junkie talk" multiple times from gym friend)...
So I had a quarter mile left to go and all of a sudden my speed drops, and it throws me off and I'm like "What just happened?" And the machine is cutting me off...it's saying "COOL DOWN." And I'm like "No F-ing Way are you shutting me down when I have a quarter mile left..." so I'm pushing the speed up and it's forcing its way back down and I do this about four times while other club members are looking at me like I'm crazy...and then suddenly the machine just stops and says, "GOOD WORKOUT" So I am standing there fuming...pissed as all get out...and my friend says, "Are you done now?" and being the stubborn monster I am say, "like hell" and I hop over to the next treadmill...and start over. By the time I left the gym my slate gray t-shirt was charcoal. I felt good though..energized and I got a free crabcake! I know...eating at the gym..weird but it was there...and at least I wasn't the guy on the stationary recliner bike eating a chocolate Odwalla bar... I had to force myself NOT To take his picture...
As we're walking out towards the main lobby, my friend and I pass the clown and,...
Friend: There's nothing sadder than a clown."
Me: Yeah but haven't you heard...clown college is harder to get into than Harvard...that's saying something right?
Friend: Not really. I mean... think about it. If you (pointing at me) mess up at work....it's okay. People will live. But if that clown fails at his/her job... then basically that means they fail at making people happy!
Me: Well... yeah... I guess... wow. When you put it like that... that's f-d up though... don't say that. you're really messing up my endorphine high... I just had a great workout and you're making me feel bad about clowns...
Friend: Seriously... think about it. That clown doesn't even LOOK funny....that's why I just get sad when I see clowns.
Me: Well what about pirates?
Friend: Pirates?
Me: (Pointing to pirate with the biggest head I've ever seen...)
Friend: Let's get out of here.
Me: Yeah....
So today, I went to breakfast, had 2 bloody mary's and some of the best crabcakes ever and then went shopping, and tried to ignore the serious pain in my hips... damn that pirate clown gym. I also have to state again that it's day 28, and I think the newness of quitting has worn out (especially with friends and family) but I promise you,... I still think about it. I listened to Fast Car (Tracy Chapman) on the way home so you know...that's really bad... and I'm moody and not even running five miles helps. But I'm going to hang in there...and I believe that by the end of this... (if there ever is an end)... somehow I'll make it out okay.... maybe even better than before...
Yesterday I woke up, went to Starbucks and was planning my morning run when a friend called and asked if I wanted to go with her and her friend to the Grand Opening of a new gym. "There will be snacks and free shit"...she says.
Please note: I already belong to an overpriced, very popular "luxury..." gym in the city with access to multiple cross country locations. Also please note: I'm an asshole because I literally pay for this membership so I can run on a treadmill (and I own a treadmill....). I think I've been to two classes in 3 years... one spinning class which I loved but couldn't walk right for a week afterward, and then one hip hop dance class (shutup) which I was dragged to by a friend because she thought the trainer was hot. (He wasn't and neither was the class). Anyway back to yesterday...
I thought, well...the weather is mediocre and it would probably be better to work out with friends so why not. When we arrived, the gym was one of these suburban behemoth type places filled with balloons but...that wasn't what bothered me (okay it did a little) but more so.... was the fact that it only took 2.5 seconds before I spotted a clown. (I didn't spot the pirate until we were leaving). If you see a clown in a gym, you should just leave. Immediately. But we were there, and we were being swarmed by sales reps and personal trainers wanting to sell and assess... I was hassled less than my friend but that's probably because I had this, "I can't believe I'm looking at a f-ing clown right now" look on my face... in what is supposed to be some premier gym and there are kids running around touching everything and coughing and drooling and all I want to do is get on a treadmill and run for 3 miles tops. So after about 20 minutes of walking around and getting our bearings, I finally hopped on a treadmill and did what I always do.... plugged in ear buds to my iPhone, picked a song, put it on repeat and then hit "Quick Start."
I was doing good...started slow, and every mile kicked it up a notch... but at mile 2 a woman got onto the treadmill next to me. I hate when this happens. I hate when this happens even more when there are 10 other treadmills not being used. I like to zone out when running so I gave her the once over and kept it moving... (by the way.... I have to in good conscience just put this out there... please don't wear animal print to the gym. Ever. It's wrong. And it's more wrong when you can't fit the print. It's almost sadder than the clown...)
So I'm running, and I'm not a fast runner so I'm gliding along at a leisurely pace and checking my email and I can feel her looking at me, and at my machine. And I'm running, and I'm thinking "if you don't stop looking at my screen..." but she keeps doing it. I don't care okay? I was running a 13 minute mile at that point and yes I know that's slow as hell, but what do I care? I'm not sitting on the couch so whatever. But it's annoying to have someone constantly turning to look at you and your stats while you run.
This lady by the way looked like she should be in a water aerobics class. Seriously. Plus I hear animal print is acceptable there. Anyway, I thought fine... you want to stare? And with that I upped my speed considerably. I'm not even going to tell you what I set it to but it was ridiculous and I had no business running that fast (especially since I am coming back from a workout layover). So I'm running fast, and feeling good...so good I don't even notice the woman has left... and I'm not feeling terrible. I didn't even feel...tired so I decided I would make it to 5 miles and call it quits, and at that point I felt I could have run 10 because all I had all day was coffee and tea... so I was highly caffeinated (I know...I'm replacing substances...already got the "junkie talk" multiple times from gym friend)...
So I had a quarter mile left to go and all of a sudden my speed drops, and it throws me off and I'm like "What just happened?" And the machine is cutting me off...it's saying "COOL DOWN." And I'm like "No F-ing Way are you shutting me down when I have a quarter mile left..." so I'm pushing the speed up and it's forcing its way back down and I do this about four times while other club members are looking at me like I'm crazy...and then suddenly the machine just stops and says, "GOOD WORKOUT" So I am standing there fuming...pissed as all get out...and my friend says, "Are you done now?" and being the stubborn monster I am say, "like hell" and I hop over to the next treadmill...and start over. By the time I left the gym my slate gray t-shirt was charcoal. I felt good though..energized and I got a free crabcake! I know...eating at the gym..weird but it was there...and at least I wasn't the guy on the stationary recliner bike eating a chocolate Odwalla bar... I had to force myself NOT To take his picture...
As we're walking out towards the main lobby, my friend and I pass the clown and,...
Friend: There's nothing sadder than a clown."
Me: Yeah but haven't you heard...clown college is harder to get into than Harvard...that's saying something right?
Friend: Not really. I mean... think about it. If you (pointing at me) mess up at work....it's okay. People will live. But if that clown fails at his/her job... then basically that means they fail at making people happy!
Me: Well... yeah... I guess... wow. When you put it like that... that's f-d up though... don't say that. you're really messing up my endorphine high... I just had a great workout and you're making me feel bad about clowns...
Friend: Seriously... think about it. That clown doesn't even LOOK funny....that's why I just get sad when I see clowns.
Me: Well what about pirates?
Friend: Pirates?
Me: (Pointing to pirate with the biggest head I've ever seen...)
Friend: Let's get out of here.
Me: Yeah....
So today, I went to breakfast, had 2 bloody mary's and some of the best crabcakes ever and then went shopping, and tried to ignore the serious pain in my hips... damn that pirate clown gym. I also have to state again that it's day 28, and I think the newness of quitting has worn out (especially with friends and family) but I promise you,... I still think about it. I listened to Fast Car (Tracy Chapman) on the way home so you know...that's really bad... and I'm moody and not even running five miles helps. But I'm going to hang in there...and I believe that by the end of this... (if there ever is an end)... somehow I'll make it out okay.... maybe even better than before...
Short and Sweet
I'm so sorry... I woke up late this morning and I'm running out to get a (I know it's ridiculous but true) a birthday breakfast... it's like I should just stop trying to celebrate the thing but... people love me I guess and...what can I do? Besides...this place I'm going to has really good bloody mary's so I will have to write you later... Okay? Okay. Have a good day though.
PS: 28 days! No smokes! 28 days!!!!!
PS: 28 days! No smokes! 28 days!!!!!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
725 Penny Pickup
I think the only thing my mother and I have in common is our ability to worry. Actually,... I know that's the only thing we have in common. We are so good at worrying that we could start our own business... Tagline: "Worried? Don't Be. Allow Us."
I woke up this morning feeling fine... but there's something about Saturdays that just...stress me out a little so what do I do? I check my bank account. This helps nothing. Paying bills, transferring funds, all of that... should make said bank account holder feel good...feel responsible. It doesn't. It makes said bank account holder feel like she just... no no...wait a second here... wait a hot second. Holy crap. I forgot. I still have birthday money coming! Oh THANK GOD!!!! Are you starting to see how my brain functions? Parents are thinking "Jesus Christ Lindsay..." and then they're thinking "Can't believe she's blogging about this.... why would she want anyone to know her brain functions this way?" but... here's why... I can only budget what I have. Not what I don't have. And then there's the... I have no filter thing... (and everyone knows that so lets just get over it and move on).... Anyway...
You know when you quit smoking one of the things people love to tell you is how much money you're going to save. Well... that only makes you feel good if you felt like what you were spending your money on sucked... and I never did so I didn't give it a second thought. The fact that I've paid as much as 12 dollars for a pack (I was in Manhattan) meant nothing except that I have expensive habits. I'm sure my income has increased a fair amount with the whole quitting thing but I couldn't tell you...because all I see is that with more money comes more responsibility. When I have money, I hate spending it. When I don't....I find a way to get it and then spend the shit out of it. I just got paid so that means I turn into Scrooge. (Parents rolling eyes now, shaking heads in disbelief...but it's true. The freak out may only last a couple days but it does in fact happen).
In college I can remember buying one pack of cigarettes with a sack of pennies that I had found all over my dorm room. I was so proud of myself... and my...ingenuity (And my parents think I don't know the value of a dollar... hehehe) That pack was 7 dollars and 25 cents, and I thought... this guy better take my money or we're gonna play 725 penny pickup right here in this bodega, and I'm gonna let him win. Then I'm gona take my pack of Marlboro Lights... and smoke two...right on his step. But he took the pennies... actually he laughed and said, "Hey money is money... especially when you smoke." Thinking back on this episode... I'm so glad I don't have to do that again. Pennies take up way too much space in your wallet... and most of the time they're disgusting looking...like dirty...
Anyway, the point of this blog post? I don't know but I have shit to do. Like adult responsibility shit. So I'm going to go do it, but if you think of what the point of this blog post was...shoot me a comment and let me know.
PS: I do feel a little less stressed now that I wrote this... Hah! ...Pennies... ew.
I woke up this morning feeling fine... but there's something about Saturdays that just...stress me out a little so what do I do? I check my bank account. This helps nothing. Paying bills, transferring funds, all of that... should make said bank account holder feel good...feel responsible. It doesn't. It makes said bank account holder feel like she just... no no...wait a second here... wait a hot second. Holy crap. I forgot. I still have birthday money coming! Oh THANK GOD!!!! Are you starting to see how my brain functions? Parents are thinking "Jesus Christ Lindsay..." and then they're thinking "Can't believe she's blogging about this.... why would she want anyone to know her brain functions this way?" but... here's why... I can only budget what I have. Not what I don't have. And then there's the... I have no filter thing... (and everyone knows that so lets just get over it and move on).... Anyway...
You know when you quit smoking one of the things people love to tell you is how much money you're going to save. Well... that only makes you feel good if you felt like what you were spending your money on sucked... and I never did so I didn't give it a second thought. The fact that I've paid as much as 12 dollars for a pack (I was in Manhattan) meant nothing except that I have expensive habits. I'm sure my income has increased a fair amount with the whole quitting thing but I couldn't tell you...because all I see is that with more money comes more responsibility. When I have money, I hate spending it. When I don't....I find a way to get it and then spend the shit out of it. I just got paid so that means I turn into Scrooge. (Parents rolling eyes now, shaking heads in disbelief...but it's true. The freak out may only last a couple days but it does in fact happen).
In college I can remember buying one pack of cigarettes with a sack of pennies that I had found all over my dorm room. I was so proud of myself... and my...ingenuity (And my parents think I don't know the value of a dollar... hehehe) That pack was 7 dollars and 25 cents, and I thought... this guy better take my money or we're gonna play 725 penny pickup right here in this bodega, and I'm gonna let him win. Then I'm gona take my pack of Marlboro Lights... and smoke two...right on his step. But he took the pennies... actually he laughed and said, "Hey money is money... especially when you smoke." Thinking back on this episode... I'm so glad I don't have to do that again. Pennies take up way too much space in your wallet... and most of the time they're disgusting looking...like dirty...
Anyway, the point of this blog post? I don't know but I have shit to do. Like adult responsibility shit. So I'm going to go do it, but if you think of what the point of this blog post was...shoot me a comment and let me know.
PS: I do feel a little less stressed now that I wrote this... Hah! ...Pennies... ew.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Rain Rain Go Away Your F-in Up My F-ing Day (Only You're Not...)
Today I'm happy (yes... again). It's annoying... I know, and I'm trying to do everything I can to calm down. It's not working. I cursed out a Prius on the way to work but then immediately afterwards felt even more energized and happy, and then I started singing at the top of my lungs like a lunatic and as I pulled up to this red light, this big guy in a food truck slowly turns and looks down at me and I freeze... and I slowly turn to look at him and he shakes his head... I shrugged and then dusted him. I mean...shit... if I knew what I could do to stop this insanity you think I wouldn't????! I wear a shit eating grin on my face all day, I have so much energy I can't sit still, I am driving the people around me crazy! And I haven't even thought about cigarettes in 2 days! Just put a fork in me...I'm done,...
Apparently last night I was really seriously too much for the BF...as I was heating up pasta, I turned on the TV and "That Thing You Do" was on... and well I just love that movie, but more than the movie (cause okay...I do not loooovvvveee that movie) but the song... It's one of those realllllllly catchy songs that once it gets in your head you can't get it out... and so last night, I bought the song on iTunes in an attempt to get the song out of my head... but this backfired, and sent me into a dancing and singing and humming frenzy that drove my BF to the brink... he literally grabbed my iPhone out of my hands and looked at me and yelled, "Enough. I can't take it... stop singing it, stop humming it, stop playing it, stop listening to it...JUST STOP EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT." So,... I burst out laughing, because I'm a dick and that just made it worse. He goes: "You're laughing? This isn't funny. You're driving me insane!" So I'm sitting there trying not to laugh which is making things so much worse and...
I just cant and don't get that... I mean...I don't smell like smoke anymore... he doesn't have to kiss an ash tray, this is what he wanted!!! and I can't sing??? So I say "WHAT??? NO COM-PREN-DAY AMIGO!", and I grabbed my phone back, and put in my headphones.... he never said stop dancing...
Okay.....I promise you, the next post will not be about singing and dancing... It's probably like watching the an Oscar and Hammerstein marathon two days in a row... I will think of something...promise.
Apparently last night I was really seriously too much for the BF...as I was heating up pasta, I turned on the TV and "That Thing You Do" was on... and well I just love that movie, but more than the movie (cause okay...I do not loooovvvveee that movie) but the song... It's one of those realllllllly catchy songs that once it gets in your head you can't get it out... and so last night, I bought the song on iTunes in an attempt to get the song out of my head... but this backfired, and sent me into a dancing and singing and humming frenzy that drove my BF to the brink... he literally grabbed my iPhone out of my hands and looked at me and yelled, "Enough. I can't take it... stop singing it, stop humming it, stop playing it, stop listening to it...JUST STOP EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT." So,... I burst out laughing, because I'm a dick and that just made it worse. He goes: "You're laughing? This isn't funny. You're driving me insane!" So I'm sitting there trying not to laugh which is making things so much worse and...
I just cant and don't get that... I mean...I don't smell like smoke anymore... he doesn't have to kiss an ash tray, this is what he wanted!!! and I can't sing??? So I say "WHAT??? NO COM-PREN-DAY AMIGO!", and I grabbed my phone back, and put in my headphones.... he never said stop dancing...
Okay.....I promise you, the next post will not be about singing and dancing... It's probably like watching the an Oscar and Hammerstein marathon two days in a row... I will think of something...promise.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Happy Jackson 5 Serenade
Okay I think quitting smoking has turned me into a serious morning person. And when I say serious...I mean of the "SHUT UP I'M SLEEPING, GO BE HAPPY SOMEWHERE ELSE" variety. This morning I woke up in the best mood ever. I had this ephiphany at 5:47 am that my life is awesome. (I know... this mood will change at some point on the way to work when I'm driving...) but for now... I'm so happy I'm annoying myself (and BF has already shot me several "I can't believe you" looks... well deserved though...) I literally got up and had one of those Katharine Heigle montage movie moments where there's a song in the background (in this case it was Lenny Kravitz's "Lady") and I got up and danced into the freezing cold bathroom and danced while brushing my teeth and danced while spitting out toothpaste...(not a good idea by the way). Next song, "I Want You Back" (Jackson 5)... which I've never actually had someone seranade me with at 6 in the morning but it's probably awful... especially if I go by BF's response which was "Ughhh... fine I'm up." (By the way he's glaring at me right now... and I can't stop laughing).
BF: "I don't get how you can do this shit. Whoever showed you the repeat button I'd like to smack them in the face."
Me: "Ohhhh baby give me one more chance..."
BF: Are you playing that through your iPhone?!@
Me: "Love Ya OWWW WANT YOU OWWW LOVE YA OWWW"
BF: *rolling eyes
Me: Okay hurry up. I need Starbucks.
Please note: I haven't had a drop of coffee yet. How is this mood even possible right now?!?
Please also note: Don't worry...I will read this later and be absolutely mortified but lucky for you...I'm too happy to give a shit right now :)
BF: "I don't get how you can do this shit. Whoever showed you the repeat button I'd like to smack them in the face."
Me: "Ohhhh baby give me one more chance..."
BF: Are you playing that through your iPhone?!@
Me: "Love Ya OWWW WANT YOU OWWW LOVE YA OWWW"
BF: *rolling eyes
Me: Okay hurry up. I need Starbucks.
Please note: I haven't had a drop of coffee yet. How is this mood even possible right now?!?
Please also note: Don't worry...I will read this later and be absolutely mortified but lucky for you...I'm too happy to give a shit right now :)
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Men In Black Like Starbucks Lattes
It's a weird feeling, walking into a Starbucks knowing you're the only person on the other side of the register who isn't part of the Secret Service. You order your coffee feeling like at any moment something serious is about to go down so you try and place your order without staring at the three very tall, and very muscular men surrounding you. But you know that they're probably reading your mind right now,... and thinking..."boooooorrrrrringgg"...
At the same time, you also think, "what if something did happen?!? What if one of these men had to protect you? You'd probably want the one that's farthest away because he looks like he trains Bruce Willis..." and then you think, this is so stupid. Why are you thinking about this? This neighborhood is so boring, and nothing cool ever happens here, and why are these Men in Black acting like this is normal? This isn't normal..." (Clearly I'm writing this AFTER I had my coffee)...and then you grab your coffee and walk out the door wondering what it is they're all doing sitting in the parking lot... and why they hang out at the Starbucks down the street when they should be... doing something more...productive...like writing a blog.
I'm at work, and I got here at exactly 6:59 am and I cursed exactly twice on the drive in... once at Honda, and then the second time at the tour de france in front of me...
I lost a lot of work last night so I figured I'd come in early and try to recover what was lost but of course I had to write first and can I just say that I literally just zoned out for like point five seconds and was thinking, "the world is so much more interesting than we give it credit for... I mean... I write a blog and I hate bloggers and I go to the Secret Service Starbucks and I just got my dream job, and I have turned into an early bird.... this makes no sense and I'm really only half awake..." anyway...I'll read this later and think "Yup...should have actually finished the coffee before I started typing" but... then that would be a little too normal.
Look for more coherent thoughts later...
PS: Did you notice...not one thing about cigarettes or smoking? (At least till now...)
At the same time, you also think, "what if something did happen?!? What if one of these men had to protect you? You'd probably want the one that's farthest away because he looks like he trains Bruce Willis..." and then you think, this is so stupid. Why are you thinking about this? This neighborhood is so boring, and nothing cool ever happens here, and why are these Men in Black acting like this is normal? This isn't normal..." (Clearly I'm writing this AFTER I had my coffee)...and then you grab your coffee and walk out the door wondering what it is they're all doing sitting in the parking lot... and why they hang out at the Starbucks down the street when they should be... doing something more...productive...like writing a blog.
I'm at work, and I got here at exactly 6:59 am and I cursed exactly twice on the drive in... once at Honda, and then the second time at the tour de france in front of me...
I lost a lot of work last night so I figured I'd come in early and try to recover what was lost but of course I had to write first and can I just say that I literally just zoned out for like point five seconds and was thinking, "the world is so much more interesting than we give it credit for... I mean... I write a blog and I hate bloggers and I go to the Secret Service Starbucks and I just got my dream job, and I have turned into an early bird.... this makes no sense and I'm really only half awake..." anyway...I'll read this later and think "Yup...should have actually finished the coffee before I started typing" but... then that would be a little too normal.
Look for more coherent thoughts later...
PS: Did you notice...not one thing about cigarettes or smoking? (At least till now...)
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Citizens Smiling
The one thing I will miss about working late at my current job is the talks I get to have with the wonderful woman who cleans our office. She's from El Salvador and speaks with wide eyes and a brilliant smile and when she talks about her sons and about how she picked up more hours at work, her face lights up like an El Salvadorian menorah. Tonight she told me she passed her immigration test. It was so moving to hear her talk about it because I knew how hard she had studied. 100 questions, and they only ask 16. Every day she'd listen to one question in her car and repeat the answer over and over and over again. Every day she'd add a question. She told me she didn't even know what some of the questions meant because all of the questions are in English and she said she doesn't speak English, which really made me feel stupid because here I am understanding almost everything she's saying and I sure as hell don't speak Spanish...
Part of me was exhausted so maybe that's why I got teary eyed, and then the other part of me was just in such awe of this person. To give you a sense of what her day is like,...she gets to her first job at 4 in the morning. Her last job ends at 1 in the morning, and when I asked her if she was tired, she said, "Sometimes, but I love it." And that's a beautiful thing. To really love your job, even after a 16 hour day, and still be smiling... well it makes my quitting smoking sound like pretty small potatoes... and it also makes me feel bad for complaining so damn much...
Her two boys are her pride and joy and she said to me with her hand on her chest, "My boys are citizens now! I don't have to worry about that anymore." And I thought about how sweet that must be for her... and I thought about how proud her boys must be and I thought about how special that is... I can remember the day I got naturalized and how big of a deal I remember I was supposed to feel like it was...but you know what I was really excited about? Getting to skip school, getting a free American Flag, and watching my dad curse like a drunken sailor when we came out and he had realized his car had been towed. Hear him tell it now and you can still get a sense of just how pissed he was...
Anyway, you're probably wondering what is the point of this story? And the point is...if someone can be that resilient and that strong, and that remarkable... then at the end of the day, I can sure as hell quit smoking and live to smile about it.
Part of me was exhausted so maybe that's why I got teary eyed, and then the other part of me was just in such awe of this person. To give you a sense of what her day is like,...she gets to her first job at 4 in the morning. Her last job ends at 1 in the morning, and when I asked her if she was tired, she said, "Sometimes, but I love it." And that's a beautiful thing. To really love your job, even after a 16 hour day, and still be smiling... well it makes my quitting smoking sound like pretty small potatoes... and it also makes me feel bad for complaining so damn much...
Her two boys are her pride and joy and she said to me with her hand on her chest, "My boys are citizens now! I don't have to worry about that anymore." And I thought about how sweet that must be for her... and I thought about how proud her boys must be and I thought about how special that is... I can remember the day I got naturalized and how big of a deal I remember I was supposed to feel like it was...but you know what I was really excited about? Getting to skip school, getting a free American Flag, and watching my dad curse like a drunken sailor when we came out and he had realized his car had been towed. Hear him tell it now and you can still get a sense of just how pissed he was...
Anyway, you're probably wondering what is the point of this story? And the point is...if someone can be that resilient and that strong, and that remarkable... then at the end of the day, I can sure as hell quit smoking and live to smile about it.
Focus Says the Dick in the Focus*
I woke up this morning to see snow on the ground. It's an awful feeling actually when you wake up, there is snow, and you don't get excited about it. It means you're not a child anymore, and that kind of sucks, especially when you have childish tendencies the way I do. It was freezing okay? I live in a basement, and if I turn the heat up, then when I wake up I feel like I have strep throat, and if I turn it off,...it takes me four times the amount of time it usually does for me to get out of bed. So I sit under the covers freezing and frowning and freezing again staring at my flat screen and getting angrier and angrier. And then BF looks at me and says, "Seriously...we have to go soon!" And I glare. And I sit there thinking, "Mother nature is a cruel bitch and I am getting really sick of layering."
Side note: I got to work and checked my email and had a resume and online portfolio waiting in my inbox. Strange to have to look at people's work who will be your replacement. Also strange to think you can look at someone's work and get a feeling about them, but I did and I do. This feeling...not a good one. Sorry buddy... this person did not smoke in highschool, wears tapered khaki's and collects tupperwear. I'm sorry... I quit smoking...not being a bitch.
Anyway, there was only a two second period this morning where I wanted a cigarette. There were cars and assholes (and a really ugly Ford Focus) involved so... you've theoretically read this blog... you know how it goes... but then I thought to start over after....23 days... that would probably suck big time, and then I'd hate myself and have a bunch of people wanting to kill me. So no...I didn't smoke.
PS: I actually have a shit load of work to do today. If I survive I'll write when I get home. If I don't write, I'm probably not dead,...I'm probably sleeping.
Side note: I got to work and checked my email and had a resume and online portfolio waiting in my inbox. Strange to have to look at people's work who will be your replacement. Also strange to think you can look at someone's work and get a feeling about them, but I did and I do. This feeling...not a good one. Sorry buddy... this person did not smoke in highschool, wears tapered khaki's and collects tupperwear. I'm sorry... I quit smoking...not being a bitch.
Anyway, there was only a two second period this morning where I wanted a cigarette. There were cars and assholes (and a really ugly Ford Focus) involved so... you've theoretically read this blog... you know how it goes... but then I thought to start over after....23 days... that would probably suck big time, and then I'd hate myself and have a bunch of people wanting to kill me. So no...I didn't smoke.
PS: I actually have a shit load of work to do today. If I survive I'll write when I get home. If I don't write, I'm probably not dead,...I'm probably sleeping.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Simea and the Cutoffs
First of all, I want to apologize for that last post this morning. I shouldn't have written/posted it. It was one of those things I wrote for the sake of writing it, and I shouldn't have insulted you all with it. Fluff... and I will do my best not to do that again.
I went for a run today and while I was running was thinking about smoking, and the blog, and all kinds of random shit,...and I started thinking about why I wrote such a dumb post and I realized...it's like Simea and the Cutoffs.
Sit. Relax. Listen. I tell great story in Russian accent.
Once upon a time I was in elementary school, and at that time my mother had done two things to seriously ruin my image, and scar me for life. Things that to this day, I have never really ever gotten over (clearly as I'm blogging about them years later). The first, being that she wouldn't buy me jean cut-offs....short shorts...daisy dukes...whatever you want to call them... and this was the 80's/90's... the decade of acid wash and colored jeans and Madonna... and I begged her for them and she wouldn't do it. Something about if I wanted jeans that were ripped I could rip up ones I already had... Mothers... they just... don't get it sometimes.
The second thing, was there was a girl who lived around the corner. Her name was Simea. She was huge (and not in a Michael Jackson or Madonna type way), and we went to elementary school together. She was in third grade, when I was in first, but she probably should have been in 6th grade, and she was about 6 times my size. I know everything in first grade looks huge but she really was.... Her grandmother (who she lived with) owned a cat and had about 500 TV Guides... and they had Captain Crunch sitting on the table every day. My mother bought Grape Nuts okay.... oatmeal was like a special occasion at our house so Captain Crunch was no small deal.
Anyway, I always wanted to hang out with Simea. She was huge, mean, and kids didn't like to fuck with her because she would always kick their ass. (I'm sorry there is seriously no better way to put that). My mother had other ideas...she didn't like that I wanted to hang out with her and she had her reasons. For one thing, I was Simea's only friend, and she kicked MY ass. Seriously. That was the only time I've actually gotten beat up and I don't remember anything except that I was thrown several feet in the air because I made some smartass comment... looking back... I realize how little has changed.. Anyway, I thought...of all the things...you want me to grow up close minded, and not hang out with big bullies, and wear short shorts.... and all I want to do is get through school looking cool and not being fucked with...and mom just put her foot down. So I always thought...that makes no sense... why wouldn't you want me to be exposed to all kinds of people...don't you want me to be open minded...and love everyone equally? Dont you want me to be cool with cool shorts? No? Really? Okay well...that sucks for me.
But I get it now. Now that I've quit smoking. I get that she was (as all mothers should be) trying to protect me. From bullies, from bad trends...from whatever... and yet...I didn't care. I wanted to be bad ass in all areas. She wanted me to be safe and so how this relates how... to the dumbass post you ask?
Well I got to thinking about my mental state this morning. I've been getting up early, writing this blog, and bitching quite frankly about how bad it sucks to quit smoking...and I mean...it does definitely suck but this morning...it really didn't. This morning I felt good, and it kinda scared me because I thought if I have nothing to complain about...what the fuck am I gonna write?!@ Well...it's like if I don't have cutoffs and get to hang out with bullies... then what will I have to complain about? So here I am...feeling like a champion dumbass... and hoping that you won't hate the fact that I'm not exactly struggling today... (at least not with not smoking)... it's more of a "smoke still smells good to me but not driving me insane" kinda day.
And for what it's worth... I still swear I'll never look down at someone just cause they're smoking. (Unless of course they're sitting and I'm standing ;)
I went for a run today and while I was running was thinking about smoking, and the blog, and all kinds of random shit,...and I started thinking about why I wrote such a dumb post and I realized...it's like Simea and the Cutoffs.
Sit. Relax. Listen. I tell great story in Russian accent.
Once upon a time I was in elementary school, and at that time my mother had done two things to seriously ruin my image, and scar me for life. Things that to this day, I have never really ever gotten over (clearly as I'm blogging about them years later). The first, being that she wouldn't buy me jean cut-offs....short shorts...daisy dukes...whatever you want to call them... and this was the 80's/90's... the decade of acid wash and colored jeans and Madonna... and I begged her for them and she wouldn't do it. Something about if I wanted jeans that were ripped I could rip up ones I already had... Mothers... they just... don't get it sometimes.
The second thing, was there was a girl who lived around the corner. Her name was Simea. She was huge (and not in a Michael Jackson or Madonna type way), and we went to elementary school together. She was in third grade, when I was in first, but she probably should have been in 6th grade, and she was about 6 times my size. I know everything in first grade looks huge but she really was.... Her grandmother (who she lived with) owned a cat and had about 500 TV Guides... and they had Captain Crunch sitting on the table every day. My mother bought Grape Nuts okay.... oatmeal was like a special occasion at our house so Captain Crunch was no small deal.
Anyway, I always wanted to hang out with Simea. She was huge, mean, and kids didn't like to fuck with her because she would always kick their ass. (I'm sorry there is seriously no better way to put that). My mother had other ideas...she didn't like that I wanted to hang out with her and she had her reasons. For one thing, I was Simea's only friend, and she kicked MY ass. Seriously. That was the only time I've actually gotten beat up and I don't remember anything except that I was thrown several feet in the air because I made some smartass comment... looking back... I realize how little has changed.. Anyway, I thought...of all the things...you want me to grow up close minded, and not hang out with big bullies, and wear short shorts.... and all I want to do is get through school looking cool and not being fucked with...and mom just put her foot down. So I always thought...that makes no sense... why wouldn't you want me to be exposed to all kinds of people...don't you want me to be open minded...and love everyone equally? Dont you want me to be cool with cool shorts? No? Really? Okay well...that sucks for me.
But I get it now. Now that I've quit smoking. I get that she was (as all mothers should be) trying to protect me. From bullies, from bad trends...from whatever... and yet...I didn't care. I wanted to be bad ass in all areas. She wanted me to be safe and so how this relates how... to the dumbass post you ask?
Well I got to thinking about my mental state this morning. I've been getting up early, writing this blog, and bitching quite frankly about how bad it sucks to quit smoking...and I mean...it does definitely suck but this morning...it really didn't. This morning I felt good, and it kinda scared me because I thought if I have nothing to complain about...what the fuck am I gonna write?!@ Well...it's like if I don't have cutoffs and get to hang out with bullies... then what will I have to complain about? So here I am...feeling like a champion dumbass... and hoping that you won't hate the fact that I'm not exactly struggling today... (at least not with not smoking)... it's more of a "smoke still smells good to me but not driving me insane" kinda day.
And for what it's worth... I still swear I'll never look down at someone just cause they're smoking. (Unless of course they're sitting and I'm standing ;)
7:30 and a Wake-Up
I finally really slept in. I did not wake up at 4am, and I actually feel good enough for a run this morning. It's shitty out... rain and wintry mix says TWC but fuck it. I actually don't want to kill anyone this morning, and it's President's Day (or some day where I don't have to work) so I fully intend on taking every advantage of the fact that I don't even have to drive a car this morning. Besides...I think we've already determined that where I live, all the assholes get up super early.
I was thinking a lot about yesterday and about how my friend said I would inevitably turn into one of those ex-smoking assholes who loves to judge smokers. I have thought about this so many times.... will I? Let me put this in perspective... all of my roll models smoke cigarettes. Granted,... most of them are dead, and the ones that are living... well... how you feel about Keith Richards is your prerogative... but I've always thought he was smokin' hot.... Anyway, you get the idea... one thing though... I read "The Kids" by Patti Smith (one of my favorite books of all time) and I was shocked to find out that she never smoked! Not ever! And she LOOKS like a smoker (you know she does) Then I think about all the other non-rock'n'roller types I like... Eddie Sedgwick (smoker), Audrey Hepburn (Smoker), David Ogilvy (Pipe Smoker...not that kind...the Sherlock Kind....) and I wonder what would happen if you take the cigarette out of the picture. Does Audrey Hepburn still look the same in Breakfast at Tiffany's without the holder to match the dress? Does Eddie Sedgwick's famous photo series by Warhol look the same if she' s only holding the scotch? Does David Ogilvy come up with the Lemon concept for VW or does he roll into obscurity? Regardless... maybe friend was right...maybe I already in fact DO judge smokers... maybe we all do. Okay fuck it...you KNOW we all do... The thing that probably sets me apart, is that I will always think smokers have more fun... and I will always judge them for being just a little more cooler than me.
I was thinking a lot about yesterday and about how my friend said I would inevitably turn into one of those ex-smoking assholes who loves to judge smokers. I have thought about this so many times.... will I? Let me put this in perspective... all of my roll models smoke cigarettes. Granted,... most of them are dead, and the ones that are living... well... how you feel about Keith Richards is your prerogative... but I've always thought he was smokin' hot.... Anyway, you get the idea... one thing though... I read "The Kids" by Patti Smith (one of my favorite books of all time) and I was shocked to find out that she never smoked! Not ever! And she LOOKS like a smoker (you know she does) Then I think about all the other non-rock'n'roller types I like... Eddie Sedgwick (smoker), Audrey Hepburn (Smoker), David Ogilvy (Pipe Smoker...not that kind...the Sherlock Kind....) and I wonder what would happen if you take the cigarette out of the picture. Does Audrey Hepburn still look the same in Breakfast at Tiffany's without the holder to match the dress? Does Eddie Sedgwick's famous photo series by Warhol look the same if she' s only holding the scotch? Does David Ogilvy come up with the Lemon concept for VW or does he roll into obscurity? Regardless... maybe friend was right...maybe I already in fact DO judge smokers... maybe we all do. Okay fuck it...you KNOW we all do... The thing that probably sets me apart, is that I will always think smokers have more fun... and I will always judge them for being just a little more cooler than me.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Benefit of the Doubt
Weezer Song of the Day: "Put Me Back Together"
Just googled "What happens after 21 days of quitting smoking?"
Answers:
Your circulation improves.
Walking becomes easier for you.
Your lung function increases up to 30 percent.
Insomnia
"Brain acetylcholine receptor counts up-regulated in response to nicotine's presence have now down-regulated and receptor binding has returned to levels seen in the brains of non-smokers."
Whatever the fuck that last one means... let me tell you the Lindsay breakdown of what happens after 21 days:
1. Urge to smoke increases when surrounded by assholes
2. Brain functions like a total and complete psycho that thinks about nothing but smoking
3. YOU GO FUCKING INSANE BECAUSE YOURE SO SICK OF EVERYONE DOUBTING YOU ALL THE FUCKING TIME.
4. You start a blog and realize no one's really reading
5. You start a blog and realize this will be the longest year of your life.
Just googled "What happens after 21 days of quitting smoking?"
Answers:
Your circulation improves.
Walking becomes easier for you.
Your lung function increases up to 30 percent.
Insomnia
"Brain acetylcholine receptor counts up-regulated in response to nicotine's presence have now down-regulated and receptor binding has returned to levels seen in the brains of non-smokers."
Whatever the fuck that last one means... let me tell you the Lindsay breakdown of what happens after 21 days:
1. Urge to smoke increases when surrounded by assholes
2. Brain functions like a total and complete psycho that thinks about nothing but smoking
3. YOU GO FUCKING INSANE BECAUSE YOURE SO SICK OF EVERYONE DOUBTING YOU ALL THE FUCKING TIME.
4. You start a blog and realize no one's really reading
5. You start a blog and realize this will be the longest year of your life.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Napoleon Plans a Walk
Preface: I have always been very ambitious and very calculated when it comes to my career. When I graduated college I told myself I would stay at my very first job for exactly one year (which I did), my second job three years (did that too), and my third would depend on the situation and circumstance but at that point, I would have worked long enough to have an idea of what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be and if I wasn't at that point by my third job, then I would need to do whatever it took to get there. The third job to me was that transition point, where you've had enough experience to forge the beginnings of a career, but not enough to say you're in it yet. The third job is the turning point...
It's Saturday morning and I feel like I just ran a marathon. I lost 6 pounds in three days, I have woken up around 4 am almost every morning, I've not slept solidly through the night once, and I have been stressed to the point of tears. I'm exhausted, but smoke-free, and I found myself walking outside last night with a stupid piece of gum in my mouth thinking, damn this non-smoking shit sucks.
People say you can't plan everything, but I think that's a load of horse shit (pardon my French). You can absolutely plan everything. It doesn't mean it's all gonna work out the way you planned, but you can certainly fucking plan it....
Yesterday I told my current job I'd be leaving them after one year and you'd think after having done this twice before it would get easier, but it doesn't. It in fact gets harder, because the more experience you've poured into something, the more you've given of yourself, and to let it go, even after only a year, is a difficult thing to face. (i.e., I am a wimp and almost blew chunks)
I received an opportunity too good to pass on. It wasn't planned, or expected, or even slightly calculated. It just.... happened...
They took the news so well it was startling, and I wanted to puke, and after it was all over, I wanted to sleep. I wanted to rest, and wake up feeling strong, but instead I came home and answered 20 questions about 401(k)s and health plans. It took everything out of me, and I wanted to smoke so badly because then I wouldn't have to answer shit for anybody. I could take a walk with a cigarette, and my thoughts, and feel neither loneliness or pity. I could feel relief. But no...I didn't. I didn't smoke so instead I felt stressed, sadness, loneliness, anger, and then after all of that...I felt a tinge of happiness. Happy that an opportunity I have literally been dreaming about since I was 16, may have just become a reality. This sequence of events is to me a sign that I am doing the right thing. That a new chapter is about to occur in my life around the same time I am closing out an old one... smoking. It couldn't be more perfect if I had planned it :)
And that with great sacrifice comes great achievement... at least that's what Napoleon Hill wrote... and according to Wikipedia he was a smart guy.
It's Saturday morning and I feel like I just ran a marathon. I lost 6 pounds in three days, I have woken up around 4 am almost every morning, I've not slept solidly through the night once, and I have been stressed to the point of tears. I'm exhausted, but smoke-free, and I found myself walking outside last night with a stupid piece of gum in my mouth thinking, damn this non-smoking shit sucks.
People say you can't plan everything, but I think that's a load of horse shit (pardon my French). You can absolutely plan everything. It doesn't mean it's all gonna work out the way you planned, but you can certainly fucking plan it....
Yesterday I told my current job I'd be leaving them after one year and you'd think after having done this twice before it would get easier, but it doesn't. It in fact gets harder, because the more experience you've poured into something, the more you've given of yourself, and to let it go, even after only a year, is a difficult thing to face. (i.e., I am a wimp and almost blew chunks)
I received an opportunity too good to pass on. It wasn't planned, or expected, or even slightly calculated. It just.... happened...
They took the news so well it was startling, and I wanted to puke, and after it was all over, I wanted to sleep. I wanted to rest, and wake up feeling strong, but instead I came home and answered 20 questions about 401(k)s and health plans. It took everything out of me, and I wanted to smoke so badly because then I wouldn't have to answer shit for anybody. I could take a walk with a cigarette, and my thoughts, and feel neither loneliness or pity. I could feel relief. But no...I didn't. I didn't smoke so instead I felt stressed, sadness, loneliness, anger, and then after all of that...I felt a tinge of happiness. Happy that an opportunity I have literally been dreaming about since I was 16, may have just become a reality. This sequence of events is to me a sign that I am doing the right thing. That a new chapter is about to occur in my life around the same time I am closing out an old one... smoking. It couldn't be more perfect if I had planned it :)
And that with great sacrifice comes great achievement... at least that's what Napoleon Hill wrote... and according to Wikipedia he was a smart guy.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Love Acuras
This morning I woke up, I did all the things normal healthy non-smoking people do...and I walked out of my door to my bedroom and this absolutely overwhelming smell of hamhocks filled the air. I don't know what the f that's about, but it's startling...you don't want to be all clean and then leave the house smelling like pork (wait hamhocks are pork right?). Anyway...weird. That did not stop me though from making it almost entirely all the way to my job, in a good mood. (I know! Things are turning around maybe...) I got in the car, and put on Sara Bareilles which I don't know why I did, but its funny cause that "Love Song" song could literally be a song about cigarettes... which is so ironic, and then the second I decide to take the repeat button off, this asshole....in an Acura (no offense to my brother who drives one) almost hits me and then zooms off where we meet seconds later at a stop sign and he actually opens his stupid f-ing sunroof and flicks me off! WITH BOTH HANDS!!! IN A FUCKING ACURA!!! I'm sorry...this guy looked like a douche. I don't know what to say or do in situations like this, when I haven't had a coffee, and I don't have a cigarette. So I sit there looking like the asshole... dumbfounded. But in my mind, 7 minutes later it played out like this:
Douche: What the fuck!
Me: What the fuck asshole! What ...the .....fuck! Who drives like that! Who drives like an absolute douche bag at 7:30 am with no one on the fucking road!?@ What do you have some "I Look Like Shit" convention you're late for!?@ WHAT THE FUCK!
Douche: Uhhhh...
Of course this isn't how it played out. Actually in real life I rolled down my window and gave him the finger.... to which he put both hands in the air as if to say "What the fuck did I do!?@"
nothing like a good Friday.
PS: Please don't take the hamhock thing as a poor reflection on the folks. I have no idea what that's about but normally our house smells like flowers because my mom has her flower "arrangements" all over the place... (see mom...I actually am making an effort NOT to embarrass you...why...no clue but... enjoy it.) Also sorry for the f-ing cursing. I am trying to be slightly respectful of the fact that my mom may read this and be pissed I said her house smelled like pork, but I don't know why because she told me the other day that the cursing doesn't bother her, it bothers my Dad...which is weird because he's the one who taught me how to fucking curse in the first place. (Love you Dad).
Douche: What the fuck!
Me: What the fuck asshole! What ...the .....fuck! Who drives like that! Who drives like an absolute douche bag at 7:30 am with no one on the fucking road!?@ What do you have some "I Look Like Shit" convention you're late for!?@ WHAT THE FUCK!
Douche: Uhhhh...
Of course this isn't how it played out. Actually in real life I rolled down my window and gave him the finger.... to which he put both hands in the air as if to say "What the fuck did I do!?@"
nothing like a good Friday.
PS: Please don't take the hamhock thing as a poor reflection on the folks. I have no idea what that's about but normally our house smells like flowers because my mom has her flower "arrangements" all over the place... (see mom...I actually am making an effort NOT to embarrass you...why...no clue but... enjoy it.) Also sorry for the f-ing cursing. I am trying to be slightly respectful of the fact that my mom may read this and be pissed I said her house smelled like pork, but I don't know why because she told me the other day that the cursing doesn't bother her, it bothers my Dad...which is weird because he's the one who taught me how to fucking curse in the first place. (Love you Dad).
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Houdinis and the Proverbial They
The proverbial "they" say that when you quit smoking it can often times be like losing a loved one. This analogy may seem a bit extreme, but I know what they mean. There are times when the days are just a little bit lonelier.
Note: Please don't take this the wrong way. Suicide is so not my style... but writing humorous thoughts about life in the quit sucking lane has it's way of showing you whose listening and who is not.
I think this whole quitting cigarettes has been a very interesting social experiment. If you think about it, and I'm sure you have at some point, a smoker gets on average about 12 comments a day*, from people that don't smoke, insinuating that they care about your health and well being.
They WANT you to quit because it's good for YOU! Because you'll be happier, and healthier, and while we know that this is true,... we do it anyway and the non-smokers continue to roll their eyes, or strategically cough when they walk past you, but then something happens. You decide...maybe all these assholes were right. Maybe I should quit, and maybe then I won't have to worry as much about cancer and other terrible things and then people will want to go out more, and I won't feel so shitty about leaving the party to stand on the stoop...and then I won't have to get lectured every time I'm doing something I actually enjoy.
So then you quit, and then all the people that bitched at you for years about quitting...they're suddenly gone! They've Houdini'd themselves and all that shit about "I can't wait for you to quit smoking"... that voice makes you want to slam your fist down and say "Where the fuck are you? I did this shit and now what?! Where is my cookie!?" But then you don't say a word, because then you'd attract a lot of unwanted attention, and you can't smoke a cigarette afterwards so then you really would look crazy.
It's a little amazing to me that after all of this, people have very little to say. I even set up a blog and no one comments (my fantastic Aunt being the exception...and Mom...don't you dare.... and Dad...just continue to make comments at home...better fodder for this thing).
I think what it boils down to is this. People are insecure assholes. Assholes that love to meddle in other people's lives because they think they know best when the reality is they don't know shit. None of us do. Read my blog. Don't read my blog. I don't care. I quit because I'm scared shitless of the big C. It has nothing to do with other's comments, but it's amazing because I have a feeling...that everyone that told me to quit, secretly wished I wouldn't so they could keep criticizing my life choices to feel better about their own, and secondly because they wished they'd had the balls to do something reckless and dangerous and slightly irreverant. They wish they had the balls to say "I don't give a shit. I'm doing something I want to do and you can't stop me." And you know what...honestly...their loss. It's fun as hell, and you can't say you never tried it.
PS: I will read this later and think, "Shit I hope the people reading this don't think I'm an asshole" but I know you will, and I hope you'll forgive me. I wasn't talking about any of you. I'm talking about the people that don't read my fucking blog. Jeez... sensetive pricks. Get over it.
*Okay I made that statistic up...I'm a designer not a fucking research analyst.
Note: Please don't take this the wrong way. Suicide is so not my style... but writing humorous thoughts about life in the quit sucking lane has it's way of showing you whose listening and who is not.
I think this whole quitting cigarettes has been a very interesting social experiment. If you think about it, and I'm sure you have at some point, a smoker gets on average about 12 comments a day*, from people that don't smoke, insinuating that they care about your health and well being.
They WANT you to quit because it's good for YOU! Because you'll be happier, and healthier, and while we know that this is true,... we do it anyway and the non-smokers continue to roll their eyes, or strategically cough when they walk past you, but then something happens. You decide...maybe all these assholes were right. Maybe I should quit, and maybe then I won't have to worry as much about cancer and other terrible things and then people will want to go out more, and I won't feel so shitty about leaving the party to stand on the stoop...and then I won't have to get lectured every time I'm doing something I actually enjoy.
So then you quit, and then all the people that bitched at you for years about quitting...they're suddenly gone! They've Houdini'd themselves and all that shit about "I can't wait for you to quit smoking"... that voice makes you want to slam your fist down and say "Where the fuck are you? I did this shit and now what?! Where is my cookie!?" But then you don't say a word, because then you'd attract a lot of unwanted attention, and you can't smoke a cigarette afterwards so then you really would look crazy.
It's a little amazing to me that after all of this, people have very little to say. I even set up a blog and no one comments (my fantastic Aunt being the exception...and Mom...don't you dare.... and Dad...just continue to make comments at home...better fodder for this thing).
I think what it boils down to is this. People are insecure assholes. Assholes that love to meddle in other people's lives because they think they know best when the reality is they don't know shit. None of us do. Read my blog. Don't read my blog. I don't care. I quit because I'm scared shitless of the big C. It has nothing to do with other's comments, but it's amazing because I have a feeling...that everyone that told me to quit, secretly wished I wouldn't so they could keep criticizing my life choices to feel better about their own, and secondly because they wished they'd had the balls to do something reckless and dangerous and slightly irreverant. They wish they had the balls to say "I don't give a shit. I'm doing something I want to do and you can't stop me." And you know what...honestly...their loss. It's fun as hell, and you can't say you never tried it.
PS: I will read this later and think, "Shit I hope the people reading this don't think I'm an asshole" but I know you will, and I hope you'll forgive me. I wasn't talking about any of you. I'm talking about the people that don't read my fucking blog. Jeez... sensetive pricks. Get over it.
*Okay I made that statistic up...I'm a designer not a fucking research analyst.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Microsoft Makes Me Want to Smoke and then Break Something
I blame Microsoft. I'm working in Excel and I just want to break everything around me. Everything. I don't understand! You know all of us smokers should sue Microsoft, not Philip Morris. Actually, I think Americans in general should sue Microsoft for causing health problems because I feel like I'm going to lose my f-ing mind right now. All I want to do is type in a cell, and this damn thing...I have to wait about 10 seconds per cell, I swear. I swear I swear. How many people do you think START smoking because of this shit. I'M TRYING TO DO MY JOB!!! I'M TRYING TO BE PRODUCTIVE AND FUCKING MICROSOFT WON'T LET ME!!!! Damn this. I don't know if I'm having a nicotine fit or a Microsoft fit. It's a true toss up.
Day 17
Running late to work sucks. I hate it. I hate not getting my down time in the morning, and then running into the office dodging bird shit, and then spending 30 minutes trying to get the f-ing coffee pod machine to work and having it say "Not Ready" and me say, "No one gives a shit, give me my f-ing coffee!" Like most arguments,...I won by persistence ... feels good to be able to conquer the coffee pot thing or whatever, (I know..if coffee pots could talk...) and it also feels good to know I got through a rough four days unscathed and smoke-free.
Will write more later.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Ruby Tuesday
It's Tuesday morning, and it's 7:34 am, and I'm in my office, and I'm in a terrible mood I just can't seem to shake. This lady on the forum site sent me an email telling me that after 2-3 weeks of not smoking, the withdraw symptoms become completely emotional, and not physical anymore. Oh this should be good. Reeeeeeeally good.
I have had so much to think about these last few days, and I've done my thinking without a cigarette, but I can't tell you how many times I thought about it and I can't tell you how shocked I am that I didn't.
Truth: I've had 7 or 8 cigarettes sitting in a box in the middle console of my car this entire time. I had meant to throw them away the day before I quit, but then I thought...nope. I'm going to keep this 6 dollars worth of cigarettes to see if I can really do this.
To know that something you want so badly is right there, and all you have to do is reach in...and take it... well that's easy right? Well...I've never taken the easy way. I've always done things the hard way. Ask my parents, my boyfriend, my brother, whatever. Ask ANYONE. I guess the road less travelled to me, is the one that's more fun. I'm a serious pill, I'm selfish and most days I do what I want, but this quitting thing is about so much more than me. I mean, sure it's about getting healthier and you know, not being so dependent on a substance but for me it's more about not disappointing people in my life and there are so many people that would be really disappointed if I kept going or wasn't able to kick the habit. And because I'm a caring asshole, I'm willing to hand in my cool card and do this for real.
(*sigh.... )
Shit. I must be going through that f-ing emotional stage that lady was talking about. God this sucks!
I'm sure you're thinking, "She had to have had one of those fucking cigarettes...." but I haven't smoked a single one since I quit. Not one. I haven't even opened the console. And the reason is because there are more people that think I can't do this, than there are that know I can and actually want me to, and quitting is the biggest fuck you I can think of to all the people that doubt me and you know me... eventually I come around,.... and put on a show.
I have had so much to think about these last few days, and I've done my thinking without a cigarette, but I can't tell you how many times I thought about it and I can't tell you how shocked I am that I didn't.
Truth: I've had 7 or 8 cigarettes sitting in a box in the middle console of my car this entire time. I had meant to throw them away the day before I quit, but then I thought...nope. I'm going to keep this 6 dollars worth of cigarettes to see if I can really do this.
To know that something you want so badly is right there, and all you have to do is reach in...and take it... well that's easy right? Well...I've never taken the easy way. I've always done things the hard way. Ask my parents, my boyfriend, my brother, whatever. Ask ANYONE. I guess the road less travelled to me, is the one that's more fun. I'm a serious pill, I'm selfish and most days I do what I want, but this quitting thing is about so much more than me. I mean, sure it's about getting healthier and you know, not being so dependent on a substance but for me it's more about not disappointing people in my life and there are so many people that would be really disappointed if I kept going or wasn't able to kick the habit. And because I'm a caring asshole, I'm willing to hand in my cool card and do this for real.
(*sigh.... )
Shit. I must be going through that f-ing emotional stage that lady was talking about. God this sucks!
I'm sure you're thinking, "She had to have had one of those fucking cigarettes...." but I haven't smoked a single one since I quit. Not one. I haven't even opened the console. And the reason is because there are more people that think I can't do this, than there are that know I can and actually want me to, and quitting is the biggest fuck you I can think of to all the people that doubt me and you know me... eventually I come around,.... and put on a show.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Cold Day in Hell
It's Friday, Valentine's Day to be exact, and I've just spilled hazelnut coffee all over my pants. I took the day off today, not because it was V-Day, but because I had anticipated needing a day to recover from my birthday weekend. I really should have asked for two.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Kicking and Screaming
Woke up looking like I fought Tyson (no asshole, I lost),... but you'll be happy to know I have managed to rebound with a few small tricks...including bronzer, eyeliner, and some awesome mint lip balm. Now I am ready to face this day because I'm not entirely sure that anything could compete with yesterday and you know what? Bring it on because I'm ready now. I don't think meter maids would want to f with me today. Not on the day I turn 29... and am wearing the highest heels I own. The only thing scarier would be if I were smoking :) So I'm ready to take on this last year of my 20's and kick some ass (smoke free of course). Oh...
Speaking of which, I'm leaving you now to go watch a movie with Mark Wahlberg in it. Jealous?
Speaking of which, I'm leaving you now to go watch a movie with Mark Wahlberg in it. Jealous?
Saturday, February 12, 2011
There Are No Words...
The last time I was this upset was when my Grandmother passed away. It was two years ago, and it was right around my birthday. That same weekend, our dog was put down, and I was recovering from the flu. It was a banner birthday year for sure, and yet somehow a higher power has been able to rival that absolutely heartbreaking episode with one that substitutes sadness with anger.
I spent the entire day getting ready for my birthday party. I bought a dress, and a fancy bracelet, and my makeup and hair were done to perfection. I thought, finally nothing went wrong. Finally I can be happy and have fun on my birthday.
The arrangements had been made by my two best friends in the entire world. There would be a fancy dinner at a trendy restaurant, and then drinks and dancing at a fun and fabulous bar. All my closest friends would be there, and I would have a beautiful birthday cake from the trendiest bakery in town care of my best friend. It was going to be simple and perfect and festive and wonderful.
I should preface this post by telling you that I have literally not had a birthday party in 4 years now. Last year the Snowpocolypse cancelled my birthday. The year before that, my Grandmother died in a terrible, sudden and absolutely heartbreaking way, and the year before that I had the worst strep throat and fever I've ever had. This year, one of my best and most adored friends, someone I absolutely love with all of my heart, was brutally stabbed and pistol whipped and there are no words to describe the absolute sadness and anger I am going through on his behalf. He's survived but I am heartbroken, and I feel nothing but hatred and anger for the two people that did this to him. I am so sick with sorrow and regret for his suffering and his family's suffering that I am beside myself.
This blog is about the difficulty I've had with quitting smoking and I promise you that it has helped me, so if you're wondering why I'm writing this now, it is because I need all the help I can get. I need to tell someone, if even it is in vain, how angry I am because if I don't, I will take an endless walk around the neighborhood just me and my filthy habit.
I spent the entire day getting ready for my birthday party. I bought a dress, and a fancy bracelet, and my makeup and hair were done to perfection. I thought, finally nothing went wrong. Finally I can be happy and have fun on my birthday.
The arrangements had been made by my two best friends in the entire world. There would be a fancy dinner at a trendy restaurant, and then drinks and dancing at a fun and fabulous bar. All my closest friends would be there, and I would have a beautiful birthday cake from the trendiest bakery in town care of my best friend. It was going to be simple and perfect and festive and wonderful.
I should preface this post by telling you that I have literally not had a birthday party in 4 years now. Last year the Snowpocolypse cancelled my birthday. The year before that, my Grandmother died in a terrible, sudden and absolutely heartbreaking way, and the year before that I had the worst strep throat and fever I've ever had. This year, one of my best and most adored friends, someone I absolutely love with all of my heart, was brutally stabbed and pistol whipped and there are no words to describe the absolute sadness and anger I am going through on his behalf. He's survived but I am heartbroken, and I feel nothing but hatred and anger for the two people that did this to him. I am so sick with sorrow and regret for his suffering and his family's suffering that I am beside myself.
This blog is about the difficulty I've had with quitting smoking and I promise you that it has helped me, so if you're wondering why I'm writing this now, it is because I need all the help I can get. I need to tell someone, if even it is in vain, how angry I am because if I don't, I will take an endless walk around the neighborhood just me and my filthy habit.
Clint Eastwood at Starbucks
I just had a Clint Eastwood moment in the parking Lot at satrbucks. You know how in every movie he's in there's always a squinting scene... Where he's looking really intense like he wants to pony up and shoot someone but he doesn't because he's squinting instead and for some reason that's more terrifying? Well I had a mmnt in my car just now where I couldn't stop squinting and thinking how bad it sucks to not smoke and how well shit even Clint smoked. Then I went into strbucks got my iced coffee and now I'm typing this on my phone so I'm gona go before I type something really dumb.
Fly Like a G6 (Okay, I hate that song too but it sure is catchy)
I am just floored that I woke up early again. It's Saturday for God's sake. It's probably because I went to bed on the "earlier" side and because I knew last night, as I was beginning to fade that today was Part 1 of my Birthday Party Celebration Extravaganza! Everyone knows that I never just celebrate the day I was born. I get the entire month :) And it's been a little strange because since I quit smoking this month, I'm just not as indulgent as I have been in the past. Let's just say this month hasn't entirely felt like a party every day. That being said (don't you love when people say that?)...
I'm a sucker for parties, especially when they are for me. I love that I have an excuse to wear a dress, and get dolled up and put on ass kicking heels, but let me be honest, in the weeks leading up to my birthday (before I had decided to quit smoking) I was rather looking forward to pigging out and chain smoking as my birthday consolation prize. It was always in my illustrative mind that parties included cigarettes and drinking and cigarettes and ridiculousness, and cigarettes..and gifts. Not this year. This year, my party will include good food, great friends and family, and a really pink dress :)
Wish me luck and see you at the bar. Love L.
I'm a sucker for parties, especially when they are for me. I love that I have an excuse to wear a dress, and get dolled up and put on ass kicking heels, but let me be honest, in the weeks leading up to my birthday (before I had decided to quit smoking) I was rather looking forward to pigging out and chain smoking as my birthday consolation prize. It was always in my illustrative mind that parties included cigarettes and drinking and cigarettes and ridiculousness, and cigarettes..and gifts. Not this year. This year, my party will include good food, great friends and family, and a really pink dress :)
Wish me luck and see you at the bar. Love L.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Bullshit Bullshit Bullshit Delete
Please note the hours of my neurosis have changed. We are now [apparently] open at 4 am. We look forward to seeing you!
I can not believe I woke up at 4 am. This only happens on awesome days...like Fridays. Days, when you want to do things after work, or have a list of things you need to get done. So sure enough I woke up like I was Rumpelstilskin (Oh come on, like you know how to spell it either)... Slowly at first, and then after I rubbed my eyes, I felt as fresh as daisies and I couldn't fall back asleep. Anyway,... I lay awake for about 4 minutes, thinking "Should I stay or should I go?" And by go, I meant, for a run. I decided I should run because I need to hit the pavement once in awhile to remind myself of how fucking insane it is to run at 4:30 in the morning on a Friday when it is 25 degrees out and TWC says my "real feel" is 15 degrees. Dying. And to put this into perspective for you, I am not a morning runner. My own mother can vouch for this. It rarely happens because everyone knows that morning runners are over achievers and well..we all know I don't fit into that category.
But there I was. I even beat the damn newspaper man boy which was really bizarre because he almost hit me actually (with his car...not the paper) and I don't know how that happens when you're supposed to go 5 miles an hour. Well...at least I got my morning flicking off accomplished BEFORE I hit the road via car.
The few times I have actually tried to enter into the world of overachievers via morning runs, I would drive to the college track, which sounds so ridiculous because the track is literally around the corner from my house. It's even closer if I hop the fence, (because it's on the other side of the fence) At any rate as much as this pains me to say, I drove because I could smoke exactly two cigarettes before my run. It was enough to motivate me and I'm sure you have this vision that I ran a lap and came home, but this was when I was training for a half marathon, and in possibly the best shape of my life. Actually...it was the best shape I've ever been in. So good in fact, that I went to a Bally's gym for one week to do a fitness consultation with a personal trainer, who had me running on a treadmill for half an hour at a 10 minute mile pace. Not so bad, but I had a heart rate monitor strapped to my chest, so when the half hour was up, he looked confused. Turned out... my heart rate was so slow, it was beating no faster than that of a 45 year old man sleeping. (Trainers words...not mine). This was like music to my ears because you couldn't get me to run a mile in highschool (and people actually tried :)
Getting back to my run, I ran exactly two miles in 17 minutes. The first mile I ran in 8.5 minutes. (Yeah...I know...there I go again with the over achieving thing...can't quite get the hang of it). The second mile, I had to battle a serious case of acid reflux and ended my run because of it. I was so relieved that it was only 4:45 am because the thought of any of my neighbors watching me as I'm keeled over in the middle of the street dry heaving is just...appalling. I don't even know why I just shared that. I'm an idiot. Sorry. Anyway, I made a special trip to CVS this morning to get some Zantac. I already feel better but my mind is like what the hell are you doing!?@ My mind said to me on the drive in, (in a raspy, kind of low voice) "You are not a non-smoker. You are a smoker who is not smoking." And it's true.
I think I'll always be a non-smoking smoker which is fine....I don't really care, but I do want people to know that I eventually would like to get to the point where I stop thinking about smoking constantly, and where I start to believe that quitting will bring me better health, instead of heartburn.
PS: Read last nights post so you don't have to. (You can thank me later)
Random thought: My voice drops like 10 decipals in the morning. Why is that?!@ It's insane. I sound like Kat Von Dee. Seriously. I couldn't figure it out until now. It has NOTHING to do with smoking and EVERYTHING to do with quitting because now my heartburn is burning a hole in my esophagus and also it was so cold out this morning, that it was hard to breathe. (I know I know...I'm a smoker and guess what! My throat never hurt when I was smoking and running! So put that in your pipe....). Everytime I inhaled [this morning] it felt as though I had swallowed a large glass of boiling water... If you haven't done that...you should try it. It sucks. Okay, don't try it. But this is so ironic because I've always wanted one of those raspy sexy Kat Von Dee voices,... so how ironic...I get the voice while everyone is sleeping. Awesome :) Happy birthday to me :)
I can not believe I woke up at 4 am. This only happens on awesome days...like Fridays. Days, when you want to do things after work, or have a list of things you need to get done. So sure enough I woke up like I was Rumpelstilskin (Oh come on, like you know how to spell it either)... Slowly at first, and then after I rubbed my eyes, I felt as fresh as daisies and I couldn't fall back asleep. Anyway,... I lay awake for about 4 minutes, thinking "Should I stay or should I go?" And by go, I meant, for a run. I decided I should run because I need to hit the pavement once in awhile to remind myself of how fucking insane it is to run at 4:30 in the morning on a Friday when it is 25 degrees out and TWC says my "real feel" is 15 degrees. Dying. And to put this into perspective for you, I am not a morning runner. My own mother can vouch for this. It rarely happens because everyone knows that morning runners are over achievers and well..we all know I don't fit into that category.
But there I was. I even beat the damn newspaper man boy which was really bizarre because he almost hit me actually (with his car...not the paper) and I don't know how that happens when you're supposed to go 5 miles an hour. Well...at least I got my morning flicking off accomplished BEFORE I hit the road via car.
The few times I have actually tried to enter into the world of overachievers via morning runs, I would drive to the college track, which sounds so ridiculous because the track is literally around the corner from my house. It's even closer if I hop the fence, (because it's on the other side of the fence) At any rate as much as this pains me to say, I drove because I could smoke exactly two cigarettes before my run. It was enough to motivate me and I'm sure you have this vision that I ran a lap and came home, but this was when I was training for a half marathon, and in possibly the best shape of my life. Actually...it was the best shape I've ever been in. So good in fact, that I went to a Bally's gym for one week to do a fitness consultation with a personal trainer, who had me running on a treadmill for half an hour at a 10 minute mile pace. Not so bad, but I had a heart rate monitor strapped to my chest, so when the half hour was up, he looked confused. Turned out... my heart rate was so slow, it was beating no faster than that of a 45 year old man sleeping. (Trainers words...not mine). This was like music to my ears because you couldn't get me to run a mile in highschool (and people actually tried :)
Getting back to my run, I ran exactly two miles in 17 minutes. The first mile I ran in 8.5 minutes. (Yeah...I know...there I go again with the over achieving thing...can't quite get the hang of it). The second mile, I had to battle a serious case of acid reflux and ended my run because of it. I was so relieved that it was only 4:45 am because the thought of any of my neighbors watching me as I'm keeled over in the middle of the street dry heaving is just...appalling. I don't even know why I just shared that. I'm an idiot. Sorry. Anyway, I made a special trip to CVS this morning to get some Zantac. I already feel better but my mind is like what the hell are you doing!?@ My mind said to me on the drive in, (in a raspy, kind of low voice) "You are not a non-smoker. You are a smoker who is not smoking." And it's true.
I think I'll always be a non-smoking smoker which is fine....I don't really care, but I do want people to know that I eventually would like to get to the point where I stop thinking about smoking constantly, and where I start to believe that quitting will bring me better health, instead of heartburn.
PS: Read last nights post so you don't have to. (You can thank me later)
Random thought: My voice drops like 10 decipals in the morning. Why is that?!@ It's insane. I sound like Kat Von Dee. Seriously. I couldn't figure it out until now. It has NOTHING to do with smoking and EVERYTHING to do with quitting because now my heartburn is burning a hole in my esophagus and also it was so cold out this morning, that it was hard to breathe. (I know I know...I'm a smoker and guess what! My throat never hurt when I was smoking and running! So put that in your pipe....). Everytime I inhaled [this morning] it felt as though I had swallowed a large glass of boiling water... If you haven't done that...you should try it. It sucks. Okay, don't try it. But this is so ironic because I've always wanted one of those raspy sexy Kat Von Dee voices,... so how ironic...I get the voice while everyone is sleeping. Awesome :) Happy birthday to me :)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Breakdown
Okay. I admit it. I am having a breakdown. Officially. Tonight was the first time I've gone shopping since I quit smoking. Terrible, terrible idea. I should have given myself more time, but time is a luxury I do not have because Saturday night is my birthday party and I can't show up to my own party looking...like.... like last year's Valentine's Day gone wrong. So I went to Bloomingdales in search of a dress. I should preface this by saying that today was not my finest. Today I looked like I just quit smoking. So naturally this translated to me not getting helped until I had about 20 dresses in my hand. Please note, that as I type this I am starting to stress out, and the only thing saving me right now is that I've had four glasses of Chilean Cab Sauv. At any rate, I tried on 25 dresses and was about to walk out of the dressing room dress-less, when I remembered the 26th pink dress hanging on the door. I knew before I tried it on, that it was going to be perfect. It was and so now I have a dress, and I should be happy and content, and excited, but everything is upsetting. Everything is irritating, and I want to drink more wine and I desperately want a cigarette, but I can't, and I think I just might cry myself to sleep. You know you're having a breakdown when even you start to irritate yourself.
I know I'm 4 glasses deep at the moment and I should probably do myself and all of you a favor and stop typing, but have you ever had brief moments of regret that you weren't part of some ethnic makeup that allowed for poor and unhealthy behavior? I mean,...the Irish get to drink, the French get to smoke... the Italians get to drink and smoke... Yes. That's it. I wish I was Italian. Actually... sometimes I do because I've been to Italy and it's so gorgeous I cried on the plane ride home because I didn't want to leave. The more I type, the more I'm sounding like a sad Diane Lane character aren't I... okay... I'm stopping now. Well,...have a good night and I will type you tomorrow.
PS: I know I will wake up tomorrow, read this and just die.
I know I'm 4 glasses deep at the moment and I should probably do myself and all of you a favor and stop typing, but have you ever had brief moments of regret that you weren't part of some ethnic makeup that allowed for poor and unhealthy behavior? I mean,...the Irish get to drink, the French get to smoke... the Italians get to drink and smoke... Yes. That's it. I wish I was Italian. Actually... sometimes I do because I've been to Italy and it's so gorgeous I cried on the plane ride home because I didn't want to leave. The more I type, the more I'm sounding like a sad Diane Lane character aren't I... okay... I'm stopping now. Well,...have a good night and I will type you tomorrow.
PS: I know I will wake up tomorrow, read this and just die.
Birds of a Feather Shat on My Car
First let me start off by telling you that I'm at work typing this in a down coat and earmuffs because I could not wait to tell you all about what just happened to me. It's probably much more boring to be reading about it than living it, but regardless...it's worth sharing...
I have the luxury of having a parking space at work that has caused all sorts of dramas as we are located in a very, very trendy part of the city. That being said, one of the dramas is the Bird Lady. No...not the ghost of Lady Bird,...that would actually be COOL. What I'm talking about is a phantom bird watcher bitch, who I'm pretty sure lives in one of the houses next to our office building, looks like the crypt keeper and gives poison apples to children on Halloween. She's an early riser and used to put birdseed on the generator which lives in front of my space. Now she just throws it everywhere... It remains to be seen, whether or not she actually likes the birds, or if she's trying to cause an obesity epidemic amongst the chickadee population. I'm guessing the later. We have posted signs and more signs and signs laminated in plastic saying, "BIRDSEED IS PROHIBITED ON THIS PROPERTY." Which hasn't helped, and I'm almost positive has done nothing more than exasperated the problem because now I'm really starting to notice.
Example: Last month I got my car worked on. It was not a cheap process, but the dealership cut me a first class deal on a detail and I accepted. Like most things, I figured, if I'm going to spend the money, I might as well get everything I possibly can with it. So I did. The entire process took 3 days, and when my car returned, I was slightly worried that I wouldn't be able to accept it. The loaner I had received for my time away was a gorgeous, black sporty Benz, and I had serious anxiety issues about giving it back. When the day came, however, to pick up my car, I must say, it was like seeing it for the first time. I was so excited. It didn't smell like smoke, the leather looked brand new, and the outside was so shiny it looked like I had purchased it that day. I had made arrangements to pick up my car early in the morning so that I would still be able to make it into work on time. So, when I pulled into my parking space, I was in a bit of a daze.
The next morning I almost had heart failure. My entire car had a nice 24 hour coating of prime bird shit giving it a lovely dull patena. My car looked like a fucking Cheetah actually.... with grey spots. It was not a good look and I was horrified. When I got to work that morning, I seriously thought about taking bleach to the birdseed. But I didn't and I'll be honest...I didn't because I knew my Grandmother would be horrified if I did. So I didn't. I just fantasized about it, smoked some cigarettes, and put them out ontop of the generator, mixing the butts well with the birdseed. I admit it. It was juvenille, but I was pissed. I shouldn't have taken it out on the birds, but you haven't seen these birds...they all look pregnant with bird triplets. It's disgusting. Maybe I'm doing them a favor, you know.... I'm like the new (oh what's his name... weeding out the fittest... Finch man...come on...too early to be DARWIN! YEAH! That's it...)
Anyway, so this little anecdote brings me to today. I came into work, exhausted and having already cursed out one bad driving suburbanite, so my mood was awesome. When I parked, I looked up to see about 32 Chickadees staring at me from a fence (again...in front of my car). So I sat there...wondering...where the hell is the birdseed? And as I reached for my door to open it, the birds dove into my windshield, and pulled up just in time so as not to hit my windshield. I almost pissed myself. I felt like I was in a Hitchcock movie. So I turned around and noticed the birdseed had magically appeared right behind my car! By the time I turned around, the birds had flown back to the front of my car, and perched themselves on the fence. And then they dove again... and again, and again....5 more times actually as I sat there paralyzed...and then I just couldn't take it. It was scary. I hate those birds. I hate the bird lady, and if I come outside tomorrow when it's light out, and my car looks like a Cheetah....I'll be pissed again.
To Be Continued...
PS: What does this have to do with quitting smoking? It's making it harder.
I have the luxury of having a parking space at work that has caused all sorts of dramas as we are located in a very, very trendy part of the city. That being said, one of the dramas is the Bird Lady. No...not the ghost of Lady Bird,...that would actually be COOL. What I'm talking about is a phantom bird watcher bitch, who I'm pretty sure lives in one of the houses next to our office building, looks like the crypt keeper and gives poison apples to children on Halloween. She's an early riser and used to put birdseed on the generator which lives in front of my space. Now she just throws it everywhere... It remains to be seen, whether or not she actually likes the birds, or if she's trying to cause an obesity epidemic amongst the chickadee population. I'm guessing the later. We have posted signs and more signs and signs laminated in plastic saying, "BIRDSEED IS PROHIBITED ON THIS PROPERTY." Which hasn't helped, and I'm almost positive has done nothing more than exasperated the problem because now I'm really starting to notice.
Example: Last month I got my car worked on. It was not a cheap process, but the dealership cut me a first class deal on a detail and I accepted. Like most things, I figured, if I'm going to spend the money, I might as well get everything I possibly can with it. So I did. The entire process took 3 days, and when my car returned, I was slightly worried that I wouldn't be able to accept it. The loaner I had received for my time away was a gorgeous, black sporty Benz, and I had serious anxiety issues about giving it back. When the day came, however, to pick up my car, I must say, it was like seeing it for the first time. I was so excited. It didn't smell like smoke, the leather looked brand new, and the outside was so shiny it looked like I had purchased it that day. I had made arrangements to pick up my car early in the morning so that I would still be able to make it into work on time. So, when I pulled into my parking space, I was in a bit of a daze.
The next morning I almost had heart failure. My entire car had a nice 24 hour coating of prime bird shit giving it a lovely dull patena. My car looked like a fucking Cheetah actually.... with grey spots. It was not a good look and I was horrified. When I got to work that morning, I seriously thought about taking bleach to the birdseed. But I didn't and I'll be honest...I didn't because I knew my Grandmother would be horrified if I did. So I didn't. I just fantasized about it, smoked some cigarettes, and put them out ontop of the generator, mixing the butts well with the birdseed. I admit it. It was juvenille, but I was pissed. I shouldn't have taken it out on the birds, but you haven't seen these birds...they all look pregnant with bird triplets. It's disgusting. Maybe I'm doing them a favor, you know.... I'm like the new (oh what's his name... weeding out the fittest... Finch man...come on...too early to be DARWIN! YEAH! That's it...)
Anyway, so this little anecdote brings me to today. I came into work, exhausted and having already cursed out one bad driving suburbanite, so my mood was awesome. When I parked, I looked up to see about 32 Chickadees staring at me from a fence (again...in front of my car). So I sat there...wondering...where the hell is the birdseed? And as I reached for my door to open it, the birds dove into my windshield, and pulled up just in time so as not to hit my windshield. I almost pissed myself. I felt like I was in a Hitchcock movie. So I turned around and noticed the birdseed had magically appeared right behind my car! By the time I turned around, the birds had flown back to the front of my car, and perched themselves on the fence. And then they dove again... and again, and again....5 more times actually as I sat there paralyzed...and then I just couldn't take it. It was scary. I hate those birds. I hate the bird lady, and if I come outside tomorrow when it's light out, and my car looks like a Cheetah....I'll be pissed again.
To Be Continued...
PS: What does this have to do with quitting smoking? It's making it harder.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
You're the Only One
Have you ever noticed, that the moment you choose to do something, it seems like you're the only one? Today I took a cold walk to FedEx and I swear it felt like the entire world had picked up smoking. Actually it was a little freaking me out for a minute because you have no idea how many times I've said, "Where the hell have all the smokers gone?" Well...apparently they were waiting for me to quit. The only thing that didn't cause me to make new friends out there was this blog and you.
All Over the Place
A few things. I don't have much time. I'm early but it's 7:45 and the way my co-workers have been showing up lately, you'd think Mr. Omelette was coming to town.
Anyway, this morning was so bizarre. My first alarm went off, alerting me that soon it would be time for me to turn off my second alarm. But when it went off, so did my email alert, and for whatever reason, in trying to shut my phone up, I pressed something and a Groupon window appeared. It said "Is emotional strength the same as weakness? Press Here." So I did (like an asshole) and this is what it said:
Anyway, this morning was so bizarre. My first alarm went off, alerting me that soon it would be time for me to turn off my second alarm. But when it went off, so did my email alert, and for whatever reason, in trying to shut my phone up, I pressed something and a Groupon window appeared. It said "Is emotional strength the same as weakness? Press Here." So I did (like an asshole) and this is what it said:
There are many types of strength, with physical strength being just one kind—the one kind that matters. There is also emotional strength, aka weakness. Emotional strength is only appreciated in persons who already possess physical strength, such as football players who cry after a victory (never a loss). Intellectual strength is a fancy, smart-person word that smart people use to describe being smart. Intellectual strength is found only in persons whose feeble musculatures and disappreciation for physical conditioning makes physical strength unlikely. Finally, there is the strength of one's convictions, which refers to the length of one's prison term. In prison, physical strength is particularly important. Thus, emotional strength is particularly invaluable, invaluable in this case meaning just what it sounds like and the exact opposite of what it actually means. To determine if you yourself possess physical strength, go right now and lift the heaviest object in your house. If you don't already know what that object is, then you are not physically strong.
Strange considering that last night I wrote about weakness and I had this feeling like this crazy Asian guy at the gym was giving me weird looks. It's settled. He was stealing my thoughts. An intellectual property thief (no, not that kind of intellectual property thief mom...the kind that steals your thoughts. I just said that.)
Once I realized this, I got out of bed, and walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth. As soon as I got to the sink, my f-ing alarm went off again! And as I'm walking back to my phone, another alarm goes off. And to put this all in perspective, for whatever reason, each alarm was different. One sounded like ducks, the other sounded like a radio active emergency "get the hell outta the building" alert. The third sounded like a harp played by Jesus smoking a cigarette. When I had finally shut everything down, I attempted to brush my teeth again, and managed to avoid squirting Neutregona on my toothbrush by about 1 millimeter. Seriously? What the hell is going on?
Anyway, on the way to work I was behind one of those bread truck mini-SUV type cars that was going about 15 miles an hour down a 30mph street, which would be fine if he wasn't blocking both lanes. I stared at my gum in the middle console candy dish/cigarette lighter part and then remembered the pack was emptied on the floor a couple of days ago. C'est la vie.
PS: Please come back later after I've had at least one cup of coffee...and I'll tell you about Svetlana and the Lotus.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Working It Out
It's 11:15pm and I just got home from the gym. I ran three miles and would have run longer but even I know when to quit... The gym I go to is big and spacious with a pool which I loved the idea of but haven't actually been in. For one thing the "lifeguard" looks like she'd be more capable of drowning you than saving you and she never looks up from her miniature bible that she reads [religiously] in her life chair. I said hi to her today and she grunted at me. Anyway,...I'm getting off topic.
The last time I went to this particular gym was when I was training for the half marathon I ran last year. It was very cold outside, and I was running late (so to speak) so what do I do? I call my friend to tell her how cold it is and use that time to smoke a cigarette which, by the end of our conversation had turned into 4 cigarettes. By the time I actually got IN the gym, I had 40 minutes before closing, so I ran 5 or 6 miles, and called it a night,...frustrated and disappointed that I had let the fact that I was running late, screw up my running schedule.
I bring this up because I was thinking a lot today about what it means to have a weakness. I'm not talking about a smoking weakness...although clearly if that wasn't an issue for me I wouldn't have a blog. I was thinking more about mental weakness. There were so many times I felt like I couldn't get through something and instead of thinking about it, and trying to understand what it was that I was having a hard time with, I'd just be like "f- it. A cigarette will help clear my mind." But it almost never worked out that way. It either clammed me up and made me more evasive, or it turned me into a brazen asshole willing to say anything with little to no remorse. In short, it made me angry and I'm not sure if it was the nicotine or the insecurity that did me in. Survey says it was probably a combo deal. 2 for the price of one.
It's not the same when you replace those instances with gum. In fact, the gum is really starting to wear on me, and my teeth. Not having a cigarette is like losing a close friend and I'm a girl, so that happens a lot. Nevertheless it doesn't make it easy. I've been less angry lately, (believe it or not) and more emotional, which is just the worst. I hate feeling like this. I'd rather be angry, than emotional. It's easier, and it makes you harder to read.
Now that it's almost midnight and I've had some down time to zone out, I am feeling a little stronger. A little more ready to deal with things,... and I'm hoping that if I can just get through tomorrow, I'll be a better person for it. If not, well at least my hair smells good.
The last time I went to this particular gym was when I was training for the half marathon I ran last year. It was very cold outside, and I was running late (so to speak) so what do I do? I call my friend to tell her how cold it is and use that time to smoke a cigarette which, by the end of our conversation had turned into 4 cigarettes. By the time I actually got IN the gym, I had 40 minutes before closing, so I ran 5 or 6 miles, and called it a night,...frustrated and disappointed that I had let the fact that I was running late, screw up my running schedule.
I bring this up because I was thinking a lot today about what it means to have a weakness. I'm not talking about a smoking weakness...although clearly if that wasn't an issue for me I wouldn't have a blog. I was thinking more about mental weakness. There were so many times I felt like I couldn't get through something and instead of thinking about it, and trying to understand what it was that I was having a hard time with, I'd just be like "f- it. A cigarette will help clear my mind." But it almost never worked out that way. It either clammed me up and made me more evasive, or it turned me into a brazen asshole willing to say anything with little to no remorse. In short, it made me angry and I'm not sure if it was the nicotine or the insecurity that did me in. Survey says it was probably a combo deal. 2 for the price of one.
It's not the same when you replace those instances with gum. In fact, the gum is really starting to wear on me, and my teeth. Not having a cigarette is like losing a close friend and I'm a girl, so that happens a lot. Nevertheless it doesn't make it easy. I've been less angry lately, (believe it or not) and more emotional, which is just the worst. I hate feeling like this. I'd rather be angry, than emotional. It's easier, and it makes you harder to read.
Now that it's almost midnight and I've had some down time to zone out, I am feeling a little stronger. A little more ready to deal with things,... and I'm hoping that if I can just get through tomorrow, I'll be a better person for it. If not, well at least my hair smells good.
Trippin' Down the Freeway
Not going to lie. I had fully prepared myself for a Dante's Inferno type hell this morning but turns out, falling asleep to "Trippin' Down the Freeway" by Weezer (it's a song mom....not some new brand of heroin) on repeat isn't such a terrible way to go, even if you do only get 4 hours of sleep... I've made it into work on time today (which is 2 hours early for most people) and I'm the only one here which I love. I feel rested, and recovered and the drive here gave me some time to think about the two big things coming up this year for me.
The first....my birthday which is Sunday. So weird. It will be the last year I'm in my twenties. I know...don't say it. I was told the other day by someone in their forties that I'm getting old which was so bizarre and annoying because first of all,...being in your twenties, for those of you who don't remember...isn't a walk in the f-ing park. It kinda sucks sometimes. I'm not saying it isn't fun and you don't get away with stuff....but two things happen...you realize how uncomfortable it is being you sometimes, and then there's the whole "you're not a teenager anymore...you're an adult so start acting like one" which, much to my parents chagrin... I'm still working on.
The second thing coming up is my ten year high school reunion. Yes,... also very weird. Especially since for me, that means driving up to New England and that's about a 10-12 hour drive depending on traffic which will, no doubt, give me plenty of time to think about how much easier the entire thing would be if I could only smoke. ESPECIALLY since smoking was one of the things you were absolutely NOT supposed to do in boarding school. Which got me thinking this morning about how I'm going to handle this dilemma and I realized it's simple. The one thing that got me through boarding school, was my innate ability to do the exact opposite of what people expected of me or wanted me to do.
I shit you not, I was perfect at that school. Granted, the first day they made me change 7 times because...to be quite frank,...I didn't own a single pair of khakis and the only belt I had was covered in metal spikes. But they remedied that... and before I could protest they had me in a Wal-Mart with the most popular boy in school trying to convince me that khaki's and polos were cool. To put this in perspective, my idols at the time wore plaid pants and had mohawks and I was at Walmart with a gorgeous Senior and Co-Captain of the football team. Eventually we walked out of the Walmart with some khakis, and I called my mother that night to tell her I couldn't believe she could do this to her own daughter. (It's funny now, but at the time I felt like my own mother had thrown me to the wolves.) Well the story ends like this. Senior year a Freshman from the Hong Kong punk scene became my roommate. Something about "We think your influence could benefit her attitude." So it became my turn to take the rebellious punk girl to Walmart. Four hours later I just wanted to shoot myself.
"THIS IS NOT ME! I AM NOT WEARING KHAKIS UNTIL YOU CAN EXPLAIN TO ME WHY I SHOULD! I HATE YOU!" It was the first time I felt bad for the most popular boy in school but in the end, with tears in her eyes, she walked out with the same bag I had 2 years earlier.
Oh boarding school... this will be the ultimate test. Thank God I've got a few weeks to prepare for this.
The first....my birthday which is Sunday. So weird. It will be the last year I'm in my twenties. I know...don't say it. I was told the other day by someone in their forties that I'm getting old which was so bizarre and annoying because first of all,...being in your twenties, for those of you who don't remember...isn't a walk in the f-ing park. It kinda sucks sometimes. I'm not saying it isn't fun and you don't get away with stuff....but two things happen...you realize how uncomfortable it is being you sometimes, and then there's the whole "you're not a teenager anymore...you're an adult so start acting like one" which, much to my parents chagrin... I'm still working on.
The second thing coming up is my ten year high school reunion. Yes,... also very weird. Especially since for me, that means driving up to New England and that's about a 10-12 hour drive depending on traffic which will, no doubt, give me plenty of time to think about how much easier the entire thing would be if I could only smoke. ESPECIALLY since smoking was one of the things you were absolutely NOT supposed to do in boarding school. Which got me thinking this morning about how I'm going to handle this dilemma and I realized it's simple. The one thing that got me through boarding school, was my innate ability to do the exact opposite of what people expected of me or wanted me to do.
I shit you not, I was perfect at that school. Granted, the first day they made me change 7 times because...to be quite frank,...I didn't own a single pair of khakis and the only belt I had was covered in metal spikes. But they remedied that... and before I could protest they had me in a Wal-Mart with the most popular boy in school trying to convince me that khaki's and polos were cool. To put this in perspective, my idols at the time wore plaid pants and had mohawks and I was at Walmart with a gorgeous Senior and Co-Captain of the football team. Eventually we walked out of the Walmart with some khakis, and I called my mother that night to tell her I couldn't believe she could do this to her own daughter. (It's funny now, but at the time I felt like my own mother had thrown me to the wolves.) Well the story ends like this. Senior year a Freshman from the Hong Kong punk scene became my roommate. Something about "We think your influence could benefit her attitude." So it became my turn to take the rebellious punk girl to Walmart. Four hours later I just wanted to shoot myself.
"THIS IS NOT ME! I AM NOT WEARING KHAKIS UNTIL YOU CAN EXPLAIN TO ME WHY I SHOULD! I HATE YOU!" It was the first time I felt bad for the most popular boy in school but in the end, with tears in her eyes, she walked out with the same bag I had 2 years earlier.
Oh boarding school... this will be the ultimate test. Thank God I've got a few weeks to prepare for this.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Just Remember
I am so exhausted and I probably need a nap and some tea but I hadn't really written much all day and probably won't write much more than this post. I did, however want to say that quitting is so much harder than it looks. I have made it a point to try and be positive, and humorous about this challenge,...and not take the withdraw symptoms out on those around me. I've bit my tongue on so many occasions it's bled. I've walked away or chugged a coffee in moments of weakness and temptation but I have not given in. I say all this because I was accused of lying yesterday and I can tell you that I probably wanted a cigarette more in that very moment than I have since I quit. I will also tell you that I have not had a single cigarette, or a single piece of nicotine laced gum, or a single lozenge in 9 days. I have cried behind closed doors, and laughed at the relative success of my blog, but I have just as well mourned the loss and comfort of smoking and THAT is the truth. Thank you to all who continue to read and support me. It helps. It really does.
Hello Sunshine
Woke up early this morning. 4 am to be exact. Heartburn. It felt like someone had shot me through the chest with rock salt (and still kind of does). Must have been the Entenmann's chocolate frosted donuts I had while watching the third quarter of the Superbowl last night. Regardless of the fact that the two donuts I had were delicious, I blame them entirely for my negative attitude this morning. It was 4 am, and getting out of bed, and then having to walk across cold bathroom tiles when you're half awake and dying of heartburn sucks. Big time. Is it wrong I thought, "If I had been able to smoke a cigarette after my ginormously proportioned football food extravaganza, then none of this would have ever happened?"
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Superbowl Was Not In Waco
Sleepless, smoking helped pass the time. I hate to admit this openly but whenever I used to think about quitting and I do mean think... I would dream up a scene from pocahontas (yes, the Disney version) of the "elders". In their tee pees smoking their peace pipes telling the young ones how to be respectable adults,... And id think,... Well they smoked and it was all good so I should be able to smoke. Of course I don't live in a Disney movie, nor am I native American and you know what the last thing my "elder" said to me was? (after I told him the blog had over 200 visitors) "soon you'll have as many followers as that crazy man from Waco." ... Awesome dad. Seriously? What do you say to that? Exactly. I said nothing. Then we watched another pepsi max commercial and I made the prediction the Packers would win....
Bringing Sand to the Beach
My brother is the complete opposite of me in every way. He's tall, while I'm short. He has the best posture of anyone I know, while I struggle to "sit up straight." He's way good at math, while I chose my college, largely based on the fact that I wouldn't have to take math ever (which was highlighted in my college tour. Science 101 however, was a requirement...can't win em all...). He's great with saving and budgeting money, and I'm great at spending it. He's the most OCD person I know, and I well...they don't really have a cool acronym for what I am. He went into Finance. I went into Graphic Design. He shops at Brooks Brothers. I shop everywhere. His closet looks like a display in the Container Store catalogue. Each hanger is a finger width apart. My closet looks like the before photo in a Clean Sweep episode (not in a gross way,...it's just...eclectic?). And last, (but only for the purposes of this blog, I could go on for days on our differences) he's a non-smoker and I'm an ex-smoker.
I bring this up because last night was his "not- with-family" birthday party. You know, it's the party where you go out with a ridiculous amount of people, and see things you wish you could remember the next day? Well, I remember everything including having to sneak in a childhood friend because he wasn't dressed "appropriately" (whatever that means), which worked...but this is the one time so far that I can think of since I quit smoking, where NOT having a cigarette probably worked to my advantage because had I been smoking I would have felt super human. I would have probably copped an attitude, created a scene and said something I'd never regret later. Instead I stood there, trying not to stare at the group of guys complaining that "they need some hoes in their life" while chain smoking next to us. Not gonna lie,...I did take a few very deep breaths...
By the end of the evening, I was exhausted. I don't really go to clubs normally. I'm more a bar person...I like to hear my friends when they talk, I like not getting bumped into by big girls with paw prints tattooed on their cleavage (even if I could have totally taken her). I like not having to be grabbed onto a dance floor by a random stranger who smelled like shoe polish. I like having a few beers...not a few miscellaneous shots that were chosen for me, and I like that at a bar, there are just as many people outside the bar smoking as there are inside wishing they could smoke and one of the things I miss about smoking is the situational ability to talk to someone you don't know because you both smoke, without the small talk. I know...hard to envision, but completely possible. Like this:
Random Smoker: Hey do you have a light?
Me: Yeah sure...one sec.
Random Smoker: No worries, I should have taken some matches from the bowl.
Me: Matches? No. You shouldn't have.
Random Smoker: Yeah...matches are kinda lame. So none of your friends smoke?
Me: (flicking bic) Not really... something about,...it's bad for you?
Random Smoker: You know....you shouldn't believe everything you hear.
Me: I don't. Nice meeting you and stay off the matches!
Of course this is an abbreviated conversation of a real one I had last year with a guy that looked like he could be on Jersey Shore but it was nevertheless interesting. Last night however, again, was probably a perfect time for me not to be smoking. I would have been the awkward one in the group, feeling increasingly inadequate at my lack of ability to contribute to the conversation at hand. The topic being "needing hoes in ones life" and all... I would have had to have dug deep for that one...or not because I really don't think I need hoes in my life, or cigarettes for that matter.
PS: I know the run on sentences in this one are marathon in length but did I mention I did go to a club last night?
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Waiting for Godot
Natasha is the Godot of threading. She's worth waiting for. So here I am sitting on a bright orange sofa in a basement that looks like it was designed for a bollywood set. Waiting sucks but it sucks worse when you're sitting next to two girls that talk in decipals dolphins can hear. A cigarette in this case would solve two problems... The waiting issue and the proximity to pure obnoxiousness. And yes,... I know. I'm saving my lungs,... Now what's your solution for saving my ears?
Friday, February 4, 2011
Anything Worth Doing
I feel like shite right now. I seriously want to heave and the only thing stopping me is knowing how much that five star meal just cost me. It's not that I hadn't thought about it,...I definitely thought about what would happen if I had a glutenous moment, but I thought I could handle it. I thought...why not treat myself because it has now officially been 7 days since I've had a cigarette. Might as well have a really amazing meal with one of my best friends. Sure. Fine. A really amazing meal... and a coffee after will be like the replacement to my after dinner cigarette. Don't get me wrong,..coffee is my bitch but its just not the same.
It really was a perfect evening though and the food was insane but it's been so long since I've had a meal where I DIDN'T top it off with a cigarette that I forgot how bad it sucks when you've stuffed yourself stupid and you don't have one. And for all the people out there who have no idea what I'm talking about...just trust me on this one. It reeeeeeeallllly sucks. But you'd be proud because I didn't dig into temptation. I rode the friggin' suck train. Actually I'm riding the suck train right now in pure agony hoping that by the time I finish writing this, I can shut my eyes and sleep this one off. Never.....eatting...tha...muh...ch...a..........zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
It really was a perfect evening though and the food was insane but it's been so long since I've had a meal where I DIDN'T top it off with a cigarette that I forgot how bad it sucks when you've stuffed yourself stupid and you don't have one. And for all the people out there who have no idea what I'm talking about...just trust me on this one. It reeeeeeeallllly sucks. But you'd be proud because I didn't dig into temptation. I rode the friggin' suck train. Actually I'm riding the suck train right now in pure agony hoping that by the time I finish writing this, I can shut my eyes and sleep this one off. Never.....eatting...tha...muh...ch...a..........zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
TGIF
This week has been glorious! I've got gum all over my car, I've flicked off 2 drivers on the way to and from work, I've dreamt I was on Chelsea Handler's show, I've played air guitar 3 times in the bathroom (okay, who I am kidding, I do that all the time), I've threatened all my friends on Facebook, I've spilled coffee on my iPhone so now it's got this brownish (or should I say sepia), tint to the screen, um...and I've started a blog (yeah I know...I never pinned myself as the type either) but this is what happens when you quit. You lose your marbles... I told my college roommate that I thought we could both quit smoking while maintaining our badassness. I mean...I can still spit really far, I still have a tattoo, and I clearly still curse like a drunken sailor so that should count for something right?
Morning People
I am not a morning person unless I have my coffee and get in earlier than everyone else. If I can do those two things, I turn into some really REALLY annoying version of myself... super chatty and happy and shit. But don't worry... today is not that day. Today... I am not a morning person.
The thing about being a morning person, is I need that alone time which I guess you could say I had in my car this morning. I hate to say it but if someone had seen me, they would have thought I had Turret's Syndrome.
It took me half an hour to find my keys. Up and down and up and down the stairs I went, biting my tongue so as not to wake "the others." Finally I found my coat which was hanging in the bathroom on the towel rack. Seriously...why I would hang my coat up in the bathroom instead of just throwing it down on the floor like a normal person is beyond me.
By the time I got into my freezing cold car, I decided to sit for a second. Collect my thoughts. Have a piece of gum. God that just doesn't sound as cool as having a smoke. (Admit it. It doesn't!) So I reach for my gum which I bought at Target. It's like some fancy crap Trident is doing where they put the gum in a silver box, tell you it's blended with white tea, and it will give you vitality (whatever that means) oh and it looks cool but then when you open the box you realize it has the same stupid 10 pieces that you normally get with regular Trident. So I went for the gum, but instead of it gently popping out of the foil, the gum literally flew over my head and into some part of the car that only tiny hands can get to.
So I try again, and the same thing happens so I literally went ballistic and so did my gum. At one point, three pieces shot into the air and then vanished. 8 pieces of gum later, I finally got one... or should I say "harnessed."
I had a rough night last night so on a normal smokers day this would have been the perfect morning to run to starbucks, grab a coffee for the car ride and enjoy a smoke in peace but instead I just cursed the Gods and Trident for their bullshit packaging job and vowed never to buy that shit again.
The thing about being a morning person, is I need that alone time which I guess you could say I had in my car this morning. I hate to say it but if someone had seen me, they would have thought I had Turret's Syndrome.
It took me half an hour to find my keys. Up and down and up and down the stairs I went, biting my tongue so as not to wake "the others." Finally I found my coat which was hanging in the bathroom on the towel rack. Seriously...why I would hang my coat up in the bathroom instead of just throwing it down on the floor like a normal person is beyond me.
By the time I got into my freezing cold car, I decided to sit for a second. Collect my thoughts. Have a piece of gum. God that just doesn't sound as cool as having a smoke. (Admit it. It doesn't!) So I reach for my gum which I bought at Target. It's like some fancy crap Trident is doing where they put the gum in a silver box, tell you it's blended with white tea, and it will give you vitality (whatever that means) oh and it looks cool but then when you open the box you realize it has the same stupid 10 pieces that you normally get with regular Trident. So I went for the gum, but instead of it gently popping out of the foil, the gum literally flew over my head and into some part of the car that only tiny hands can get to.
So I try again, and the same thing happens so I literally went ballistic and so did my gum. At one point, three pieces shot into the air and then vanished. 8 pieces of gum later, I finally got one... or should I say "harnessed."
I had a rough night last night so on a normal smokers day this would have been the perfect morning to run to starbucks, grab a coffee for the car ride and enjoy a smoke in peace but instead I just cursed the Gods and Trident for their bullshit packaging job and vowed never to buy that shit again.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
When Times Get Tough
I know this blog has been pretty light hearted in nature and to be honest, the reason I really wanted to start this was to have a frank conversation about what it is honestly like to try and quit doing something that you may not actually hate. I wanted to do it in a way that was me... sarcastic, and honest. Truth is...It's really hard.
At this very moment it sucks because it would appear I'm having a true addict's breakdown. It's difficult when people only understand one side of the argument... Don't smoke because it's bad for you, or smoking causes wrinkles, cigarettes are bad for your skin and your teeth, and your lungs and your heart and you know...it becomes a laundry list of facts most smokers know by heart. A list that is supposed to scare you or make you feel guilty or perhaps worst of all...feel stupid. But what people don't understand is that those of us who have smoked for awhile,... enjoyed it and there is one reason the lot of us quit and that's because we don't want to go through the pain of cancer or of disappointing and making life difficult for those around us. The ironic thing is... that is a big reason why I enjoyed smoking to begin with. It was like my F.U. to all the things I couldn't stand and despite what others thought about it, or about me...I somehow felt slightly empowered by the idea that no matter what...it was my choice and that if it came down to it....I would live with the consequences whatever they may be. Selfish? Yes. Of course. Stupid? Maybe. But a choice that was mine? Definitely.
What friends, and forums and others don't ever talk about is what it's like to actually miss it. Most of the articles and forums and blogs talk about what you gain from quitting, and while of course that's important and good... I'm going to tell you what I miss:
1. When you are a smoker, there is absolutely no such thing as waiting because waiting has been replaced with smoking....
2. Smoking in the car... and flicking my cigarette out the window at the car that just cut me off. 3. Smoking after a meal.... who needs dessert? Smoking is sugar-free and low in calories.
4. Smoking while drinking coffee. Something about the two combined is like bonnie and clyde...a dangerously hot combo.
5. Watching a movie where everyone is smoking and then going outside and lighting up. If you don't get this one, then you just don't get it.
6. The people you meet. I'm not talking about mooches. I'm talking about other smokers...I've met some seriously interesting and intelligent and extremely cool people because of smoking.
7. (and I did touch upon this earlier...) NOT getting approached by kids with clipboards and a cause.
8. Having it be a way out of awkward conversations, blind dates, uncomfortable situations, and stressful moments.
9. The fact that it gives you an excuse to leave your desk and stop staring at a computer screen.
10. The smell. Yup. I f-ing said it. The smell which is almost completely gone from my car but I always felt like it was warm... inviting even.
It's important for me to think about these things and not just dismiss them... because to deny the very fact that I enjoy(ed) smoking...is a lie. I loved smoking I just probably love those around me and the idea of dying without a tube down my throat...a little more. And that ain't a lie.
At this very moment it sucks because it would appear I'm having a true addict's breakdown. It's difficult when people only understand one side of the argument... Don't smoke because it's bad for you, or smoking causes wrinkles, cigarettes are bad for your skin and your teeth, and your lungs and your heart and you know...it becomes a laundry list of facts most smokers know by heart. A list that is supposed to scare you or make you feel guilty or perhaps worst of all...feel stupid. But what people don't understand is that those of us who have smoked for awhile,... enjoyed it and there is one reason the lot of us quit and that's because we don't want to go through the pain of cancer or of disappointing and making life difficult for those around us. The ironic thing is... that is a big reason why I enjoyed smoking to begin with. It was like my F.U. to all the things I couldn't stand and despite what others thought about it, or about me...I somehow felt slightly empowered by the idea that no matter what...it was my choice and that if it came down to it....I would live with the consequences whatever they may be. Selfish? Yes. Of course. Stupid? Maybe. But a choice that was mine? Definitely.
What friends, and forums and others don't ever talk about is what it's like to actually miss it. Most of the articles and forums and blogs talk about what you gain from quitting, and while of course that's important and good... I'm going to tell you what I miss:
1. When you are a smoker, there is absolutely no such thing as waiting because waiting has been replaced with smoking....
2. Smoking in the car... and flicking my cigarette out the window at the car that just cut me off. 3. Smoking after a meal.... who needs dessert? Smoking is sugar-free and low in calories.
4. Smoking while drinking coffee. Something about the two combined is like bonnie and clyde...a dangerously hot combo.
5. Watching a movie where everyone is smoking and then going outside and lighting up. If you don't get this one, then you just don't get it.
6. The people you meet. I'm not talking about mooches. I'm talking about other smokers...I've met some seriously interesting and intelligent and extremely cool people because of smoking.
7. (and I did touch upon this earlier...) NOT getting approached by kids with clipboards and a cause.
8. Having it be a way out of awkward conversations, blind dates, uncomfortable situations, and stressful moments.
9. The fact that it gives you an excuse to leave your desk and stop staring at a computer screen.
10. The smell. Yup. I f-ing said it. The smell which is almost completely gone from my car but I always felt like it was warm... inviting even.
It's important for me to think about these things and not just dismiss them... because to deny the very fact that I enjoy(ed) smoking...is a lie. I loved smoking I just probably love those around me and the idea of dying without a tube down my throat...a little more. And that ain't a lie.
The Last Time I Quit (No, not the time I tried the patch and failed)
The last time was over a year ago and I remember it about as well as I remember being born. Okay that's not true. I remember I quit for 3 months, and I really didn't have a hard time doing it until I had to confront someone at work. Then I collapsed like the Berlin Wall, crumbling on all sides, while the people cheered and shook there heads knowing this day was a long time coming.
The strange thing is, I made this huge deal about quitting, in fact I told my friends to meet me at Starbucks an hour before it closed because I had some news to tell them. They all arrived on time (surprisingly) and cheered when I told them I was serious about quitting and to prove it to them, we were going to burn my cigarettes. I know...it's like when will the constant lapses in my judgement end.
So after the last lonely Starbucks employee closed up for the evening, we created a bonfire with the New York Times... (yes...we should have used the Post) and in went my cigarettes. Well, this party lasted two seconds before a cop car literally bucked a U-ey, rolled down their window and said, "What the hell are you doing?" I was elated and thought...there's no way this cop can be mad at me. I'm quitting! I'm quitting a dirty, nasty habit and it's awesome and they should be supportive. So I told the cop my story and she furrowed her brow and said, "Okay well congratulations, can you put the fire out and next time, don't do this shit in front of Starbucks?"
The strange thing is, I made this huge deal about quitting, in fact I told my friends to meet me at Starbucks an hour before it closed because I had some news to tell them. They all arrived on time (surprisingly) and cheered when I told them I was serious about quitting and to prove it to them, we were going to burn my cigarettes. I know...it's like when will the constant lapses in my judgement end.
So after the last lonely Starbucks employee closed up for the evening, we created a bonfire with the New York Times... (yes...we should have used the Post) and in went my cigarettes. Well, this party lasted two seconds before a cop car literally bucked a U-ey, rolled down their window and said, "What the hell are you doing?" I was elated and thought...there's no way this cop can be mad at me. I'm quitting! I'm quitting a dirty, nasty habit and it's awesome and they should be supportive. So I told the cop my story and she furrowed her brow and said, "Okay well congratulations, can you put the fire out and next time, don't do this shit in front of Starbucks?"
Keyser Soze and the Patch
Good morning. At least so far it's good. I got to work at 7:45 am which leaves me about half an hour to write this before I have to dig deep for the long day ahead.
I first want to start off by telling you that I slept better than I have in so long I can't even remember. I slept so well that when the alarm went off at 6:05 am, I didn't throw my phone on the floor. (I know...that's really destructive and abusive behavior but my phone has a case so I wouldn't worry too much about it). I actually can't believe I got through a night without a nightmare and cold sweats and I bring this up only because I know it's got to have something to do with the fact that I haven't been smoking and here's how I know...
The one time I tried the patch was quite possibly the stupidest thing I have ever done. I tried it with no intention of actually quitting, and believe it or not, placed the patch on my arm after just having had a cigarette. Not only did I do that....but I didn't read the instructions until about 30 minutes after I put the patch on. Why? Because I was microwaving a hot pocket and I thought monitoring the progress of my mid day snack was far more important than reading the instructions for the patch. After all...it's a sticker. I mean, right? You put it on...and you walk away, then you EAT your hot pocket and THEN you read the instructions. But that's not how it played out. I actually finished the hot pocket, and fell asleep on the sofa chair while the Price Is Right carried on in the background. Classic. I know. The nap didn't last long. I woke up 20 minutes later crying.... and not just like...a few tears.... like someone was after me crying...sobbing is probably a better and more accurate description. Then when I had collected myself, and realized that Keyser Soze clones were NOT chasing me,... I calmed down, and read the instructions at which point I realized... the patch isn't like birth control. You don't shower with it. It's like a 10 minute deal which means I basically got 3 times the dose of nicotine I should have had which means I basically O.D.'d on nicotine which means I'm officially an asshole.
Next time,...will read directions before taking on hot pocket... I mean...patch.
I first want to start off by telling you that I slept better than I have in so long I can't even remember. I slept so well that when the alarm went off at 6:05 am, I didn't throw my phone on the floor. (I know...that's really destructive and abusive behavior but my phone has a case so I wouldn't worry too much about it). I actually can't believe I got through a night without a nightmare and cold sweats and I bring this up only because I know it's got to have something to do with the fact that I haven't been smoking and here's how I know...
The one time I tried the patch was quite possibly the stupidest thing I have ever done. I tried it with no intention of actually quitting, and believe it or not, placed the patch on my arm after just having had a cigarette. Not only did I do that....but I didn't read the instructions until about 30 minutes after I put the patch on. Why? Because I was microwaving a hot pocket and I thought monitoring the progress of my mid day snack was far more important than reading the instructions for the patch. After all...it's a sticker. I mean, right? You put it on...and you walk away, then you EAT your hot pocket and THEN you read the instructions. But that's not how it played out. I actually finished the hot pocket, and fell asleep on the sofa chair while the Price Is Right carried on in the background. Classic. I know. The nap didn't last long. I woke up 20 minutes later crying.... and not just like...a few tears.... like someone was after me crying...sobbing is probably a better and more accurate description. Then when I had collected myself, and realized that Keyser Soze clones were NOT chasing me,... I calmed down, and read the instructions at which point I realized... the patch isn't like birth control. You don't shower with it. It's like a 10 minute deal which means I basically got 3 times the dose of nicotine I should have had which means I basically O.D.'d on nicotine which means I'm officially an asshole.
Next time,...will read directions before taking on hot pocket... I mean...patch.
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