Because I don’t want to be a Snatchel when I grow up
I have been a smoker for over half my life.
It’s come to my attention that quitting may be a good idea. Cigarettes are wallet-rape expensive, and will make me age violently if I don’t stop this shit soon.
I’ve quit lots of “things” in my life. Difficult, gut wrenching, “but I need you” things. Cigarettes have to be the ONE VICE that I don’t want to let go of. Ever.
“But, why?” Non-smokers ask.
Because smoking is delicious and emotionally nutritious. And it warms my soul like five-star Thai food and orgasms. That’s why.
I fucking love non-smokers. They always have the best, non-asked for advice on quitting smoking, and it usually goes as follows: “Quitting smoking is easy! You just stop, DUH!”
You know what? FUCK YOU, that’s what. Let your blood stream and pleasure centers be penetrated with the glory of nicotine repeatedly over a long period of time, and try to “just stop”. Sure, you get a pat on the back and an “atta boy/girl” if you’ve never started in the first place, but don’t come at me or any other butt-sucker with your clearly well-intended, TOTALLY not self-righteous words of wisdom in which you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Unless you actually have (successfully) quit. Then, seriously, FUCKING KUDOS. This shit is ridiculously difficult.
I’ve “quit” three times in my life. The first two times were easy, ’cause I was pregnant and the whole maternal instinct thing made quitting easier than a drunk prom-queen. The third time was because “I don’t want lung cancer”. So I stopped. Successfully. Miserably. For a year and half.
All it took were a string of unfortunate events that found me at a bar getting shit-faced with Boyfriend and “I just want one smoke” turned into a reunited love-affair with Joe Camel, as though we never broke up in the first place.
Non-smokers who’ve never smoked ever: Wanna know why your advice sucks and makes smokers want to punch you?:
1. When you’re a smoker, cigarettes are your best friend, and quitting means HAVING TO SAY GOODBYE. That is some painful shit. When you’re a smoker, it becomes your one and only truly reliable support system. Having a bad day? Tell your old pal Joe Camel all about it. He’ll listen to you vent and NOT INTERRUPT ONCE. Did something awesome happen? SHARE IT WITH JOE. He’ll celebrate with you and applaud you on a job well done. Need to brainstorm? WORK IT OUT WITH JOE, and the two of you will come up with AMAZING ideas together. Need to off someone? HE’LL TAKE CARE OF THAT MOTHER FUCKER.
Er, wait, wrong Joe. Anyways, you get my point. Saying goodbye SUCKS. Ever see the movie Marley and Me when Dude has to say goodbye to his dog before he puts him down? IT’S LIKE THAT. But with withdrawals. And homicidal tendencies. Which leads me to number two:
2. Quitting smoking turns you into a hellacious thundercunt.
Well, it does for me, at least, and I’m fairly positive I’m not alone. When you quit smoking, all of your senses are heightened, and NOT in a good/fun way. Horrible sounds are twice as loud and pleasant sounds are aurally abrasive. Your nose starts smelling things the way it was supposed to, and it dawns on you that most people/places/things stink like shit. You want to crawl out of your fucking skin and that sensation seems to be a magnet for annoying personal-bubble rapists to come up to you and TOUCH YOU or pat you on the head or privates* or some shit. The pulsating “please feed me nicotine” headache makes light a bit too bright and you want to cry and claw your eyeballs out. Dealing with these sensations and feelings make day-to-day bull shit down right unbearable, and it brings out the murderous in you. But, you can’t murder anyone because the symptoms of quitting are temporary and you’ll feel really bad once they pass and you see what you’ve done. Plus, murder makes people frown at you. Oh, and because murder is wrong. There’s always that.
So, in a way, we’re doing you folks a favor by not quitting. You’re welcome.
*kidding. People don’t walk up to me and pat my privates. Thankfully. That would be so fucking awkward.
3. Did I mention that dishing out advice or enlightenment on something you know nothing about makes you an asshole? Yeah. It does. Sorry, Cupcake, but you really need to consider swallowing a hefty load of shut the fuck up.
Once again, I’m at a “fuck cancer and wallet rape” point in my life. And “OMG I’m going to look like sixty year old brown leather snatchel* if I don’t knock this shit off” point.
*total typing error, but “SNATCHEL” made me giggle, so it fucking stays.
More importantly, my kids are getting older, and before I know it, they’re going to be using teenage angst and daddy issues to fuel the reason for experimentation and bad decisions. I doubt my kids will take me seriously when I tell them “smoking is a horrible thing, so don’t do it EVER” while I’m sucking them down quicker than they suck down Capri Suns. Seeing as how my oldest is the same age I was when I lit my first one, I feel like NOW is the time to get a handle on this shit and break up with my beloved Joe FOREVER. And I’m having a really hard time ending this post, so here’s a picture of what a brown leather snatchel looks like: