no... this is not the confession of a closet smoker, or someone who has quit 8 different times. this is a prelude to a good story by a social smoker. i just like how it gives me something to do with my hands and my mouth. anywho, i do it on occasion... usually when i end up at a party or bar, or in a circle of smokers who are just chillin... and... smokin.
so yeah, i think it was menthol... because it had a minty hint to it.
i held my second puff in and found myself spinning in that happy cig-buzz that i still brag about. the day i can get through a whole cigarette without getting a high from it will be the day i truly question my happiness. so yeah... i was buzzin and chatting with a few starfux outside the store. drove one of them home.
about halfway to her house... i started to get nauseous. like... full blown... i am going to ralph all over my steering wheel nauseous. i try to fight it and ask her about her new puppies and her upcoming move. she gets out. i pull away.
my head is spinning now and my stomach is twisted all the way up to my throat. i don't remember how i got home.
i stripped down, put on a pair of pj pants and parked the spinning on my bathroom floor.
but i couldn't throw up. i tried... but stayed there for about 30 minutes just staring at the toilet bowl. and only 7 of those minutes were spent envisioning redman on a jetski talking about his toiletbowl cleaner. "we get the brown out."
for those of you who haven't seen the chapelle show... the 23 others were probably the most painful and wretched minutes i've experienced this year.
... it was wonderful.
thanx, for the cig.
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