It’s not telepathy, kiddo, it’s a series of tubes we call “The Internet”
SO SOME PEOPLE DECIDED NOT TO QUIT SMOKING TODAY. SOME PEOPLE ACTUALLY DECIDED TO BUY A WHOLE NEW PACKAGE OF TOBACCO THIS MORNING, MAKING THEIR PROMISES TO “QUIT SOON” SEEM ESPECIALLY FLIMSY. AMONG THESE PEOPLE IS AN INDIVIDUAL WHO EXPRESSED SOLIDARITY WITH MY KICK-ASS DETOX PLAN BUT NEVERTHELESS ALLOWED ME TO CONTINUE TAKING SUGAR CUBE AFTER SUGAR CUBE AFTER SUGAR CUBE DURING OUR TEATIME. A TEATIME THAT HAPPENED TO TAKE PLACE AT ONE OF THE BEST PLACES EVER FOR FALLING OFF THE NO-CARB WAGON AND ROLLING AROUND IN SOME REFINED SUGAR AND BUTTER WITH YOUR EYES GLAZED OVER AND TONGUE LOLLING IN UNADULTERATED JOY.
LET’S JUST SAY I KNOW WHO I’M NOT GOING TO ASK FOR HELP WHEN I NEED TO KICK MY METH HABIT.
God, that’s annoying. No way I can possibly keep it up, even for spite. I don’t know how Kanye can live with himself. Oh wait, yes I do. Who needs lowercase letters when you have piles and piles of cash to roll around in? Suckers, that’s who.
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Photo courtesy of the matchless M. Starik, who better get her butt back to Paris pronto. We’re getting into all kinds of trouble without her calm Soviet wisdom to guide us.
I have two things to point out here.
First, as I indicated at said tea-time, dying of lung cancer is a proud Hoosier tradition, one I consider part of my cultural heritage and patrimony. You can take the boy out of Indiana…
Second, I am nothing if not an enabler. This should have become clear when I bought two handles of tequila the other night, if not long beforehand.
Seriously though, it’s on now. As soon as this pack (and possibly other
packs) are finished, I’ll quit. I promise.
I guess what I am trying to say is that the only difference between me , Rosa Parks, and Mother Theresa is lack of trying.