Wednesday, February 05, 2003

It's been at least 48 hours since the last time I told you all how much I hate you, so...

I hate you.

I've been assured that all of this will pass, but until then...

I hate you.

Especially if you smoke.
Every other time I've quit, the one thing that's thrown me off is drinking. Even just having one beer, and the cravings go from mild to must-have-one-now-or-WILL-kill. So I've given up drinking (to quote Bobby DeNiro "that's like a double or a triple tragedy"), too. I don't have much of a problem with this, or at least I thought I didn't until somebody rang up and said "It's happy hour at Patrick Malloy's!", and I replied "Oh yeah? Well, it's "FUCK YOU" hour at Emily's house! I hope you choke on your hot wings!"

I think a self-imposed reclusive exile would be sensible at this point.
DAY THREE

One of the tips provided in the "literature" provided is to refrain from doing things you usually associate with smoking. Make a list, it suggests, and then a list of alternative activities that you don't associate with cigarettes. Okay.

Things I associate with smoking:
-coffee
-alcohol
-reading
-watching television/movies at home
-driving
-going to clubs
-eating
-shagging
-breathing

Alternatives:
-Death

Ahem, I'm going to make it through this *just fine*.

Tuesday, February 04, 2003

Angie has suggested I kill and eat a Guardian columnist to make things better.

The words "tastes like chicken" immediately spring to mind...
DAY TWO

Gggrrrrrrrr......

Monday, February 03, 2003

I just passed Gary outside. Gary was smoking. I hate Gary. A lot.
So I popped in the inspirational tape that came with the nicotine patches, which is just a person with an irritatingly soothing voice insisting “YOU CAN DO IT!”. Mercifully, it stops short just before the crashing waves and chirping birds chime in.

I figured when I started yelling “Inspire this, lepton. If you were standing in this very room, I’d be choking you right now” that it was time to turn the thing off.
This place is too goddamm colorful. It should be dark and dreary, or as a family friend is wont to say, "as black as my soul" (actually, he's German, so technically he says "Schwartz wie meine Seele", but that's being nitpicky, isn't it?).

Yeah, this perky-changing colors shit has to go.
Just for the record, strangling pillows really does make you feel better.
The Nicorette booklet also has this little tear-out card that you're supposed to write down your most important reasons for quitting on and carry around in your wallet. My most important reasons: none. Not one decent reason. Hell, why the fuck should I worry about dying of cancer like 40 years from now. I mean, I could get killed in a car accident any time, but that doesn't keep me from driving, right? RIGHT? So I should start smoking again, no?

No.

Biggest reason: I promised my daddy.
When is the last time that I told you that I hate you?
This would be the part where I go downstairs and have a cigarette, but I can't because I quit! Hrmmmph. Maybe I'll just go put those retarded fucking stickers from the Nicorette box on the calendar instead. I will surround myself with messages of inspiration like "cancer" and "just think - no more hacking lung butter!". Then I will go and strangle a pillow.
Nicorette chewing gum tastes like death.
I hate cigarettes. Woopee for me. This is the place for me to "talk about my feelings" and "share my experiences with making a positive life choice".

Wow. This is really fucked up.