Smobriety Charticle Nine

Weight: 175 pounds (There was a particularly delicious, although diet-destroying, trip to Dick’s yesterday. New diet procedures will begin in earnest tomorrow.)

Pulse: 68 beats per minute

Smoking Resumption Risk: Aqua (No real risk of resumption)

Song Stuck in Head: “Jackie,” Scott Walker

Symptoms: Worsening cough, inability to concentrate on my retail job (Please note that this is more a symptom of real life than any kind of smobriety symptom.)

In honor of Shatner’s kidney stone, I’m going to begin selling any bits of my lung that may come up in the next few weeks. Keep an eye on eBay!
The most obnoxious thing about quitting smoking is that people no longer believe me when I say that it’s been an incredibly easy experience. They lean in and whisper, “But really, what time of the day do you miss it the most?” The answer, that I haven’t really wanted a cigarette since that first day, usually results in some variation on “Well, it’ll start getting difficult any time now.” Because people want me to be in tremendous pain, apparently, and I need to be struck down for my arrogance.
Well, thanks. Thanks a lot.
Fucktards.
That’s all I have today. Maybe I’ll suffer tonight or something. Cheers.