May 19, 2004

  • I have a confession to make. I'm in love with...wait.  A mosquito just bit me.  First mosquito of the season.  Damn the bugger.  Now I'm in a piss-ass non-confessional un-lovey-dovey mood.  Did I ever tell you that I quit smoking when I was 7 years old?  Yeah, I was a young whipper-snapper on a mid-summer's night and my little buddy friends decided it was 'my turn' to light the first one up. So the gang took me under the cover of foilage, handed me a pack of Winstons, a book of matches, and waited. I dutifully selected what I thought was the best cigarette, put it in my mouth, pulled off a match, and struck. Then *puff* *puff* *puff* *puff*. But my buddies started laughing. Half of them were rolling on the ground. I decided I wasn't puffing hard enough so I puffed harder: *PUFF* *PUFF* *PUFF*. They started laughing even harder, laughing so hard they were crying. Finally, I pulled the cigarette out of my mouth and asked "What?" One of my co-conspirators informed: "You're smoking the filter, stupid!" aiieeeee! The cigarette fell out of my mouth, I ran home, and cried for two days. Finally, on the 3rd day, I emerged from my house to be greeted by my buddies telling me to forget it and just try again. "Fuck you," was my response -- that day and henceforth. Flash forward 10 years, teenagers, Friday night, everyone's hanging out on the porch of an abandoned house..."Hey, Steve. ..wanna smoke?" "Fuck you." "What, you still hold that filter-thing against us?" "Damn right."


    I owe my buddies a lot. I think they all died from cancer years ago or I'd thank them now. Now where was I? Oh, yeah....damn mosquito!

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