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Tuesday, January 17, 2006

My Smobriety, Day Nine: The Fifth Sense

Posted by on January 17 at 13:14 PM

Smobriety Charticle Eight

Weight: 174 pounds

Pulse: 64 beats per minute

Song Stuck In Head: “Cheap Sunglasses,” ZZ Top

Risk of Smoking Resumption: Ultraviolet
(Low to none)

Symptoms: A nagging cough which is getting worse, making my speaking voice very quiet, and also kicking up disgusting things. The disgusting things which are being kicked up are vaguely making me nauseous. The being nauseous is making me slightly pale. Ultimately, if this keeps up, I could wind up here.

There is one horrible thing about quitting smoking. In this week-and-a-few-days, I seem to have recovered my sense of smell. I don’t understand how you people who don’t smoke can do this day in, day out. Seattle, frankly, stinks to high heaven. Here, a whiff of dog shit. There, a wrinkled pastel-wearing freakshow who thinks that a gallon of perfume could somehow make her wattles more desireable. The smokers stink, yes, it’s true…a smoker walked into my place of employ the other day and I had to turn to a coworker and ask, “Is that what I smelled like?” (Her response, a moaned “Oh, my God, yes,” still makes me wince with embarrassment)…but there are plenty of nonsmokers who stink, too. Here I’m talking about grown men, men in suits, who reek of ass and Pomade. Here I mean the children who answer the heretofore eternally-unanswerable zen koan “What do boogers smell like?” Have you ever actually smelled cooking eggs? Disgusting!
I understand that I haven’t had a sense of smell since I was a lad of 18, in rural Maine. And I understand that I will probably get used to these smells very quickly, that I’ll soon be as unaware of them as I was when I was smoking a pack a day, but for right now: Seattle, you smell like urine. I hate to be the one to tell you, but you’ve really gotta do something about that.


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First, congrats. Way to keep up with the de-tarring of your lungs.


Secondly, for the love of God don't go to New York . With your newly recovered sense of smell, such a visit would only be an exercise in nausea and olfactory pain.

Seriously, if you think that Seattle (the ever-rain-washed city) smells bad, the urine-soaked, garbage strewn, dirty, disgusting, cramped, crowded, rotting carcass of a city that is New York would clearly kill you in your present state.

Cheers!

You may also want to avoid most third-world countries.

I commend you again for your endeavor—and for your highly entertaining posts.

I can't wait until you start writing about the ongoing process of hacking up all that shit that has built up in your lungs for the last howevermany years. I remember when I quit smoking, I was hacking up shit for about 3 months. After that I was amazed at how much NOTICEABLY easier I could breath. Funny things, lungs.

Rural Maine? Really? I've met some Mainers out here on the west coast of course but none of them have used the prefix "rural" and I eventually find out they are from Portland or other such southern un-rural parts of the state.
I hope you are at least from north of Newport lest you besmudge the "rural" name.

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