HERE COMES THE MEN IN TOBAC...
March 8. 2007
at 17:09
Posted by Heather Duffin in The Chronicles
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Posted by Heather Duffin in The Chronicles
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View as PDF: This entry | This month | Full blog
I quit smoking a year ago January and made it six months before the alcohol smoking would start on occasion. I was able to maintain my "social smoker" status until I accepted my job in High Point, North Carolina. The only glory this town holds is that it's the Furniture Capital of the World, though the talk of the town is that Las Vegas is trying to steal our bi-annual International Furniture Market event. The thought of moving and leaving all my dear friends freaked me out. I was leaving Seattle, a land of great music, the arts, diversity, and open-mindedness for a small town in the South whose pride was a giant chair in neighboring Thomasville. This would cause a nun to start smoking.
I have had brief quit spells here on numerous occasions, but being in the land of tobacco, not far from the world empire of the tobacco industry, has it's drawbacks. You can smoke everywhere in this town. Restaurants, bars, and I've even busted the clerk at the Shell station on the corner smoking in there! You can't escape it, so it makes the chore to quit more difficult.
Then something happened two nights ago. Something that struck me like a thunder bolt, that showed me what my life would be like if I did not quit smoking.
I have had brief quit spells here on numerous occasions, but being in the land of tobacco, not far from the world empire of the tobacco industry, has it's drawbacks. You can smoke everywhere in this town. Restaurants, bars, and I've even busted the clerk at the Shell station on the corner smoking in there! You can't escape it, so it makes the chore to quit more difficult.
Then something happened two nights ago. Something that struck me like a thunder bolt, that showed me what my life would be like if I did not quit smoking.
It was Wednesday night. It had been a beautiful, glorious day and the temperature reached to almost 70. It was heavenly. It was so nice, I decided to de-stuffify my apartment and came home at lunch to open the windows. After work I'd gone walking with my mom, went grocery shopping, then drove home in the warm darkness with the windows down. I even sighed out of contentment. SIGHED, I tell you!
I got home, put away my groceries, made myself a nice dinner and settled in for some TV. Now for those who aren't aware, I am addicted to the show LOST. I think that the fact this show has been on for three years now, is the only thing that has gotten me through my nearly two years without sex. I mean, who needs sex when once a week I am blown away by the new mysteries that this island holds for the passenger of flight 815? It's 815, right? Plus there's Sawyer. Watching him is better than any sex I've ever had...okay, that's a complete and utter lie, but I have to tell myself this so I don't dwell on the fact that I'm practically a virgin by choice nowadays.
So 10 PM rolls around and LOST is starting. I'd smelled someone barbecuing earlier, but paid no attention to it. This was the smell of a nice day, so who was I to question it? I cozy in and the smell of BBQ is getting MUCH stronger now, and I notice that it actually doesn't smell like food on the grill. It had a strange, chemical smell to it instead.
I have a bad issue with closing my blinds. I like light, and I always leave my blinds open, except for my bedroom blinds, and even those I don't close until my eyes are heavy with sleep. Though I have been chewed out by boyfriends in the past for not closing the blinds, or met with the comment, "I wish you'd been MY neighbor when I was a boy," I still prefered natural light over any paranoia of modesty. This did bite me in the ass once, when I was on the toilet with my patio door blinds open and my neighbor may have possibly seen me taking a dump as he walked to his apartment.
So being the non-blind closer that I am, I had a view out my window, and thank god I did! I turned my head to see that a HUGE plume of smoke was billowing off my balcony! Instantly I knew what it was. I'd been using an empty flower pot as an ashtray, and it had filled up to the rim. Apparently someone, being me, didn't put out her ciggie out very well and was now trying to burn herself, her cats, and her handicapped downstairs neighbor, to death. I ran into the kitchen and started looking for a glass. They were all dirty though, and this in my illogical mind, didn't seem right. I had to find something CLEAN to put the fire out with. I finally found one clean, martini glass, filled it with water and went running onto my deck. There were no flames, but it had been smoldering for quite some time, and the amount of smoke coming out of it resembled that of an old-fashioned choo-choo train.
I yelled, "ACK!" and dumped the water on the pile of butts in the flower pot. I could hear them extinguishing, as more smoke came pouring out. There were so many butts, I knew it had gone deep and I needed more water. I ran in for more, and came running back out to the flower pot giving off what was surely smoke signals claiming, "I am retarded". I didn't want to dump more water on the smoldering pot of butts while it was on my deck because it's a slatted deck and the dirty nicotine water was going to flood the lady's patio below me. I couldn't let my stupidity flood her patio. I picked up the terra cotta flower pot, but it was SO hot and I dropped it. I ran back in and grabbed a pot holder and ran back out. The smoke was still billowing.
With pot holder in hand, I picked up the flower pot and leaned WAY over my deck so that the water would pour through the hole in the base of the pot and onto the grass below. I looked like a moron. There I stood in my pajama bottoms that were too big, so I'd bundled the excess fabric with a ponytail holder, in my over-sized 100% Camper t-shirt, which is kind of funny now that I think about it. I obviously shouldn't be a camper with my lack of knowledge of fire safety.
I finally got the smoldering fire out and entered my apartment, shaking and paranoid. I laid in bed, smelling of camping and finished watching the remaining 40 minutes of LOST. Every five minutes, I would glance out the window to ensure that there was no remaining smoke. I was afraid to go to bed, in fear that the butts would continue to burn and I would wake up hovering over my body. I often see stories of people burning their homes down due to a cigarette that wasn't extinguished, and I always think that these people are idiots. The realization that I had almost been one of these people hit me. I could not die a stereotype! I ran into the bathroom and flushed the rest of my cigarettes, and laid out my nicotine lozenges. I was DONE smoking!
The next morning I woke up and popped a lozenge. I was feeling great and doing well with it. Then I came home and started being all productive and cleaning up my apartment. I went to put away a lighter laying out. I opened my "lighter drawer" and as I opened it, I gasped! There in my lighter drawer was half a pack of cigarettes! Where had these come from? They weren't there last night. Oh my god, did they resurrect themselves? Was God trying to prove his existence by resurrecting my flushed cigarettes? No, that would be dumb. I knew what had happened. RJ Reynolds had sent one of their men.
I emailed Amy who was still at work and told her what had happened. I wrote that I was convinced it was the MIN - Men in Nicotine. Men that I was sure RJ Reynolds deployed to the homes of those trying to quit smoking. They'd planted cigarettes in my fucking house while I was at work, those bastards! I was freaked out by the mysterious appearance of the cigarettes. Amy emailed back and asked if they really had MIN? I told her I was sure that they did, but that they typically disguised themselves as cute skater boys in their early twenties, and told her I was sure I'd slept with one in Kentucky.
I went to my closet and looked for any men's shoes trying to disguise themselves amongst my boots, Chucks and heels.
"If you're in there, you get out you bastard! I don't want to smoke!"
Nothing happened. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and ended up going outside and smoking a couple of them before I flushed the rest. I waved them good-bye as the toilet sucked them down.
"Bye ciggies! I know you'll be back tomorrow when the MIN come by," I muttered. "THOSE BASTARDS!" I shouted into my closet so that the MIN would hear me if they were still there.
I think I just saw a shoe move.
I got home, put away my groceries, made myself a nice dinner and settled in for some TV. Now for those who aren't aware, I am addicted to the show LOST. I think that the fact this show has been on for three years now, is the only thing that has gotten me through my nearly two years without sex. I mean, who needs sex when once a week I am blown away by the new mysteries that this island holds for the passenger of flight 815? It's 815, right? Plus there's Sawyer. Watching him is better than any sex I've ever had...okay, that's a complete and utter lie, but I have to tell myself this so I don't dwell on the fact that I'm practically a virgin by choice nowadays.
So 10 PM rolls around and LOST is starting. I'd smelled someone barbecuing earlier, but paid no attention to it. This was the smell of a nice day, so who was I to question it? I cozy in and the smell of BBQ is getting MUCH stronger now, and I notice that it actually doesn't smell like food on the grill. It had a strange, chemical smell to it instead.
I have a bad issue with closing my blinds. I like light, and I always leave my blinds open, except for my bedroom blinds, and even those I don't close until my eyes are heavy with sleep. Though I have been chewed out by boyfriends in the past for not closing the blinds, or met with the comment, "I wish you'd been MY neighbor when I was a boy," I still prefered natural light over any paranoia of modesty. This did bite me in the ass once, when I was on the toilet with my patio door blinds open and my neighbor may have possibly seen me taking a dump as he walked to his apartment.
So being the non-blind closer that I am, I had a view out my window, and thank god I did! I turned my head to see that a HUGE plume of smoke was billowing off my balcony! Instantly I knew what it was. I'd been using an empty flower pot as an ashtray, and it had filled up to the rim. Apparently someone, being me, didn't put out her ciggie out very well and was now trying to burn herself, her cats, and her handicapped downstairs neighbor, to death. I ran into the kitchen and started looking for a glass. They were all dirty though, and this in my illogical mind, didn't seem right. I had to find something CLEAN to put the fire out with. I finally found one clean, martini glass, filled it with water and went running onto my deck. There were no flames, but it had been smoldering for quite some time, and the amount of smoke coming out of it resembled that of an old-fashioned choo-choo train.
I yelled, "ACK!" and dumped the water on the pile of butts in the flower pot. I could hear them extinguishing, as more smoke came pouring out. There were so many butts, I knew it had gone deep and I needed more water. I ran in for more, and came running back out to the flower pot giving off what was surely smoke signals claiming, "I am retarded". I didn't want to dump more water on the smoldering pot of butts while it was on my deck because it's a slatted deck and the dirty nicotine water was going to flood the lady's patio below me. I couldn't let my stupidity flood her patio. I picked up the terra cotta flower pot, but it was SO hot and I dropped it. I ran back in and grabbed a pot holder and ran back out. The smoke was still billowing.
With pot holder in hand, I picked up the flower pot and leaned WAY over my deck so that the water would pour through the hole in the base of the pot and onto the grass below. I looked like a moron. There I stood in my pajama bottoms that were too big, so I'd bundled the excess fabric with a ponytail holder, in my over-sized 100% Camper t-shirt, which is kind of funny now that I think about it. I obviously shouldn't be a camper with my lack of knowledge of fire safety.
I finally got the smoldering fire out and entered my apartment, shaking and paranoid. I laid in bed, smelling of camping and finished watching the remaining 40 minutes of LOST. Every five minutes, I would glance out the window to ensure that there was no remaining smoke. I was afraid to go to bed, in fear that the butts would continue to burn and I would wake up hovering over my body. I often see stories of people burning their homes down due to a cigarette that wasn't extinguished, and I always think that these people are idiots. The realization that I had almost been one of these people hit me. I could not die a stereotype! I ran into the bathroom and flushed the rest of my cigarettes, and laid out my nicotine lozenges. I was DONE smoking!
The next morning I woke up and popped a lozenge. I was feeling great and doing well with it. Then I came home and started being all productive and cleaning up my apartment. I went to put away a lighter laying out. I opened my "lighter drawer" and as I opened it, I gasped! There in my lighter drawer was half a pack of cigarettes! Where had these come from? They weren't there last night. Oh my god, did they resurrect themselves? Was God trying to prove his existence by resurrecting my flushed cigarettes? No, that would be dumb. I knew what had happened. RJ Reynolds had sent one of their men.
I emailed Amy who was still at work and told her what had happened. I wrote that I was convinced it was the MIN - Men in Nicotine. Men that I was sure RJ Reynolds deployed to the homes of those trying to quit smoking. They'd planted cigarettes in my fucking house while I was at work, those bastards! I was freaked out by the mysterious appearance of the cigarettes. Amy emailed back and asked if they really had MIN? I told her I was sure that they did, but that they typically disguised themselves as cute skater boys in their early twenties, and told her I was sure I'd slept with one in Kentucky.
I went to my closet and looked for any men's shoes trying to disguise themselves amongst my boots, Chucks and heels.
"If you're in there, you get out you bastard! I don't want to smoke!"
Nothing happened. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and ended up going outside and smoking a couple of them before I flushed the rest. I waved them good-bye as the toilet sucked them down.
"Bye ciggies! I know you'll be back tomorrow when the MIN come by," I muttered. "THOSE BASTARDS!" I shouted into my closet so that the MIN would hear me if they were still there.
I think I just saw a shoe move.
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