Here's the deal. I quit smoking 36 hours ago. Cold turkey. I'm pissed the fuck off right now. My kid is on some kind of bender watching every fucking episode of Weeds ever made while lying on the couch playing his guitar at the same fucking time.
(One Freebird away from having his face slammed on the hot stove.)
I feel fat. I'm hungry. I want chocolate.
I made this kickass P.F. Chang's copycat Mongolian beef recipe for dinner. And when I say kickass, I mean this shit will make you slap yer momma.
Did I just fucking say that?
I ran like a fucking maniac this morning, trying to lose some of my nervous energy. I've been awake since 6:45 this morning. No where near tired. I ditched the stupid nicotine patch thingy yesterday, so I am full-on cold turkey right now. There is no fucking way I am taking a pill with a side effect of "suicidal thoughts." I'd rather smoke. And there is no point in weaning anything, just prolongs the inevitable. I'm 35 years old. It's fucking time to grow up. Wait. No. I don't mean that. It's fucking time to catch my lungs up with the rest of my
That was truly the nidus, too. Actually, I think that word barely fits this definition, but I'll leave it. Nidus, that is. But whatever, I forgot what I was talking about.
Oh yeah, health consciousness and blah, blah, blah. So yeah. Yesterday morning I was, you know, getting all in touch with myself and shit and doing my morning yoga (My Yoga Online is the bomb, by the way). And no, I don't get paid to say that. It really is. So anyway. The chick in the video said, "every breath is another chance for joy."
And then I quit smoking.
I swore I wasn't going to say anything, sure as hell wasn't going to plaster it all over my blog. So I'll just cover all my bases here and say that this little fucked up idea of mine can crash and burn at any moment.
I'm pissed. I'm prattling. Wait, let me make sure that's right... Okay, yep. I'm prattling alright. My fucking head hurts. I'm tired. Wait. Didn't I just say I'm not tired?
Okay, so I'm not tired, then.
But I'm still pissed. I think I've said that 3 or 4 times already.
Did I tell you about that Mongolian beef recipe I made for dinner? I think I did. It's here if you want it P.F. Chang's Mongolian Beef . You know my anima is fucked six ways from Sunday if I am actually posting recipes on my blog. Lord help all of you if I start talking about birth stories and gardening.
You know what's funny? I have one cigarette left in my last pack and it's been sitting on my kitchen counter since yesterday morning. It's still there right now.
Excuse me while I throw it away.
You know something else that's funny? In the time it took you to read this, you've already had an average of 20 chances for joy.
I'm just sayin'.