I hate smoking. Seriously. I hate the occasional nicotine-tobacco-tar-induced headaches. I hate the smell it leaves on clothes and furniture. I hate the health risk. I hate the cost. I just hate smoking.
Which is probably why I started again last Monday.
Yeah, that didn't make any sense, and as I'm deliriously tired from an insane month, don't expect any sense from tonight's boredom-inspired writing.
Anyway... so I headed down to Atlanta last Sunday night in order to work on a television show. When I got there, I noticed that I was dangerously low on nicorette, my primary crutch when I attempt to quit. As I chewed my second-to-last piece, I did the respectable, sensible thing.
Yes, I went to the nearest store to buy more gum. No, wait... like a fucking moron, I bummed a cigarette off of my friend Brad. Why? I don't know. Because I'm a fucking moron.
Of course, I can always use the excuse "but all people on set smoke" (see: "but all soldiers smoke" for my military excuse), but the fact of the matter is I just felt like it. Maybe I just felt like it because I usually hate Atlanta (I loved it this time) and needed some edge off, but it's probably just because I'm a fucking moron.
Since Christmas Eve of 2005 I've been a non-smoker for a total of 17 months and even managed to ditch the nicorette during that time, but I can't seem to shake the relapses. Oddly enough, those relapses always seem to occur when I work a reality TV show.
Anyone have any suggestions (other than quit working reality TV shows)? Send them my way ASAP.
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