Crock pot the bane of my wifes existance
They are a whole bunch of big, fat, huge, stinky, cheese headed, pigeon toed, horned, lying, liars. They fill the world with putrescent untruths that would kill several small baby robins in one blow without even slowing down to check the tires. They lie like a barracks room bathmat. They lie like my dog. They lie like a whole bunch of big, fat, huge, stinky, cheese headed, pigeon toed, horned, lying, liars. The only way they could tell the truth is if it did not apply to the situation at hand. All they do every day twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year, ten years a decade, ten decades a century is LIE. They lie like there is no tomorrow, in fact if you asked them if there were going to be a tomorrow they would tell you "no". Unless of course, they had incontrovertible proof that the world would in fact end tomorrow. Then they would probably just say "maybe". And that is the key to their filthy stinking fish licking lying ways. They don't tell the blatent out and out obviously night is day type of lies. Oh-no. they tell you lies that you would like to believe. Pleasant, little lies that make you trip along through life "tra-la-la" until WHAMMO. splat smack the enormity of the truth trout-smacks you right upside the left ear, making you spin in a circle, and do a deranged version of the macarena while you see little dots and poodles bouncing around in your field of vision. Which on the whole are vastly crueler lies than simply telling somebody the opposite of the truth. This is what makes them such filthy despicable worthless wastes of oxygen.
On a completely, totally, and one hundred thrity-six point four percent unrelated topic. Today begins the tenth day of non-smoking. And, for the past 9 and a half consecutive days (Counting weekends, because I do know where they live) my co-workers have remained completely and one hundred percent alive. To be fair a few of them (no more than 7) actually only appear to be maybe 85 percent alive. But they have appeard so for years before the cigarette free days. Although I must say that they are having less fortuitous circumstances in the Sims environment. There they burn to death every night. Sometimes 2 or 3 times a night. Video games have got to be one of the best (or most appreciated) tools in the smoking quitters arsenal. They have everything. Violence, fire, violence, blood, fire, violence, mayhem, chaos, violence, blood, fire, violence. Everything a smoker craves, except the nicotine. Which is provided by a little square piece of gum which is not even close to the same as smoking at all no matter what some filthy pig intestine eating toad of a lying liar may tell you.
Another thing such a person (although I think person is too kind for the gutter dwelling vermin who spew such wicked and cruel lies into the universe) might be inclined to say is, "The first seventy-two hours are the hardest." That has got to be one of the most massive, smelly, rodent ridden, hairy, toe-jam licking, monstrous lie in the history of mankind. (well other than that one about women being equal.) The first seventy-two hours are a piece of cake compaired to the second week. Physically the difference between the first seventy-two hours, and the middle of the second week are miniscule. At least from inside the body. I am certain that objective observers who have little regard for truth, honesty, decency, and superman would tell you that there are measurable differences to heart rate, and respiration, and trivial stuff that has no real effect on how your brain is telling you you are feeling. None of that matters. THe quitter still has the pressure, and the desire, and the irritablility. (fortunately I have suffered no irritability on this quitting attempt.) The advantage the first 72 hours has is that YOU HAVE JUST STARTED. There is all the willpower, and the determination. You are swinging along the vines singing to yourself how great life will be after you are finally free of the nicotine devil. Imagining all the great things you will be able to afford now that the cigarettes are not burning holes all over your wallet. Thinking about how long life will be, and fresh. How nice it will be to smell things again. A truly glorious vision that helps you past the horrible, depressing, miserable, experiences that your body and mind are putting you through. It helps, and those three days go by like an appendix operation. Lots of anxiety and nervousness, but then it's gone, and you barely noticed they happened. Suddenly and without warning you are plopped smack into the middle of the second week. The point where I am sure most quitting attempts fail. The dreaded miserable horrible second week.
The problem with the second week of not smoking is that you are forced to realize that quitting smoking is hard work. It is miserable, painful, and takes huge amounts of self control. The feelings hang around poking and prodding, well beyond the first 72 hours. Making life a living hell, and making the quitter wonder if this kind of garbage is worth it. What is a few extra weeks, or months of life if they are going to be spent feeling like this? What point is there in spending money on cool new stuff if you are not going to feel good enough to enjoy the cool new stuff? Why bother quitting at all, who is going to notice? in the grand scheme of history, what difference is there between living 54 and 1/2 years, and living 136 years? Not a whole lot just ask the dinosaurs. The absolute worst part is even with the lousy stinking nicotine substitution there is still the fact that I really want to be smoking. The nicotine is a miniscule concern. Well not miniscule, but I want the cigarette. I want to feel the pollutant sear into my lungs. I want to cough and hack and spit up a gob of phlegm. That would be so heavenly right now. Fortunately I am not going to do it because I am at work, and have no stinking cigarettes. But that is what the second week does to you. It makes you realize that the process is going to drag out for the rest of your natural life. And there is nothing you can do about it, except start smoking again. I am sure it gets easier, but now I have no idea when. I think it never will be easier. I think all those smug smirking lying filthy egg ridden vomitrocious ex-smokers are all still a bunch of miserable little specks of lint on the lapels of humanity, and they just say it will be easier after the first 72 hours or month, or whatever their chosen time frame is because they can't stand the thought of somebody else being less miserable than they are. Well they can just put that in their pipes and smoke it. Actually they can't, because they are a bunch of lying no good dirty rotten worthless dishonerable horse faced cheating quitters.
On a completely, totally, and one hundred thrity-six point four percent unrelated topic. Today begins the tenth day of non-smoking. And, for the past 9 and a half consecutive days (Counting weekends, because I do know where they live) my co-workers have remained completely and one hundred percent alive. To be fair a few of them (no more than 7) actually only appear to be maybe 85 percent alive. But they have appeard so for years before the cigarette free days. Although I must say that they are having less fortuitous circumstances in the Sims environment. There they burn to death every night. Sometimes 2 or 3 times a night. Video games have got to be one of the best (or most appreciated) tools in the smoking quitters arsenal. They have everything. Violence, fire, violence, blood, fire, violence, mayhem, chaos, violence, blood, fire, violence. Everything a smoker craves, except the nicotine. Which is provided by a little square piece of gum which is not even close to the same as smoking at all no matter what some filthy pig intestine eating toad of a lying liar may tell you.
Another thing such a person (although I think person is too kind for the gutter dwelling vermin who spew such wicked and cruel lies into the universe) might be inclined to say is, "The first seventy-two hours are the hardest." That has got to be one of the most massive, smelly, rodent ridden, hairy, toe-jam licking, monstrous lie in the history of mankind. (well other than that one about women being equal.) The first seventy-two hours are a piece of cake compaired to the second week. Physically the difference between the first seventy-two hours, and the middle of the second week are miniscule. At least from inside the body. I am certain that objective observers who have little regard for truth, honesty, decency, and superman would tell you that there are measurable differences to heart rate, and respiration, and trivial stuff that has no real effect on how your brain is telling you you are feeling. None of that matters. THe quitter still has the pressure, and the desire, and the irritablility. (fortunately I have suffered no irritability on this quitting attempt.) The advantage the first 72 hours has is that YOU HAVE JUST STARTED. There is all the willpower, and the determination. You are swinging along the vines singing to yourself how great life will be after you are finally free of the nicotine devil. Imagining all the great things you will be able to afford now that the cigarettes are not burning holes all over your wallet. Thinking about how long life will be, and fresh. How nice it will be to smell things again. A truly glorious vision that helps you past the horrible, depressing, miserable, experiences that your body and mind are putting you through. It helps, and those three days go by like an appendix operation. Lots of anxiety and nervousness, but then it's gone, and you barely noticed they happened. Suddenly and without warning you are plopped smack into the middle of the second week. The point where I am sure most quitting attempts fail. The dreaded miserable horrible second week.
The problem with the second week of not smoking is that you are forced to realize that quitting smoking is hard work. It is miserable, painful, and takes huge amounts of self control. The feelings hang around poking and prodding, well beyond the first 72 hours. Making life a living hell, and making the quitter wonder if this kind of garbage is worth it. What is a few extra weeks, or months of life if they are going to be spent feeling like this? What point is there in spending money on cool new stuff if you are not going to feel good enough to enjoy the cool new stuff? Why bother quitting at all, who is going to notice? in the grand scheme of history, what difference is there between living 54 and 1/2 years, and living 136 years? Not a whole lot just ask the dinosaurs. The absolute worst part is even with the lousy stinking nicotine substitution there is still the fact that I really want to be smoking. The nicotine is a miniscule concern. Well not miniscule, but I want the cigarette. I want to feel the pollutant sear into my lungs. I want to cough and hack and spit up a gob of phlegm. That would be so heavenly right now. Fortunately I am not going to do it because I am at work, and have no stinking cigarettes. But that is what the second week does to you. It makes you realize that the process is going to drag out for the rest of your natural life. And there is nothing you can do about it, except start smoking again. I am sure it gets easier, but now I have no idea when. I think it never will be easier. I think all those smug smirking lying filthy egg ridden vomitrocious ex-smokers are all still a bunch of miserable little specks of lint on the lapels of humanity, and they just say it will be easier after the first 72 hours or month, or whatever their chosen time frame is because they can't stand the thought of somebody else being less miserable than they are. Well they can just put that in their pipes and smoke it. Actually they can't, because they are a bunch of lying no good dirty rotten worthless dishonerable horse faced cheating quitters.
posted by Pher at 11:30
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