I Am Angry
I am angry. You can tell I am angry because I am demonstrating my ire to the world by pounding on my keyboard with my clumsy, stubby, musically-challenged fingers, instead of just the gentle tip-tapping which is all that is required. Luckily, I only use two fingers to type as a way to limit the damage to my body. This strategy also helps maintain a supply of backup fingers, should something happen to my index fingers; being covered in chip dip, for example.
But I digress. This also makes me angry. I shouldn’t be digressing so much! I can’t help it, though, because I’m so angry, I can’t think straight when I get mad and lose focus with what I was saying. Man, do I love chips and dip, though! Especially shrimp dip. Oh my gosh I could eat my weight in it on just a couple crackers.
But I digress. Dang! Why do I keep digressing? Oh yeah, because I’m angry. And why am I angry? It isn’t because of the stupid hockey team I root for sucking so bad, they are lower in their league standings than my dart team is in ours; a statistic exceptionally unflattering to the Oilers. But I am no longer irked with the hockey club. My mental financial advisor has already written off as a bad investment, the case of beer I will lose when they fail to make the playoffs again. Luckily, my neighbor, Cam, says he will let me have some of his winnings to help with the pain of the loss.
No, the reason I am angry, and easily distracted and constantly hungry, is because I quit smoking as of 11:59 on Jan 1. As I abuse this cheap department store computer keyboard writing this column, I have quit for about nine days. I have a new found respect for the Logitech company that their product isn’t in tiny pieces by now.
It is unsettling being angry all the time. I am not generally known for being a grumpy Gus; more of a disarming doofus. I was so embarrassed at darts last week after I had only been off the tobacco for a day and my tolerance for the world was at an all time low. It was the only time I can ever recall not having fun at darts in all the years I’ve played. I was so cranky, when I went to darts last night I bought a round of drinks for our team and apologized for my poor behaviour. Judy from the medical office said she hadn’t really noticed being the sweet soul that she is, while Ed, the wily veteran of many dart wars, said he felt one drink wasn’t enough for the grouchiness he witnessed.
The only negative dart night that even comes close was one year when dart night fell on the evening before I was to have a colonoscopy. I was required to have this super-duper, all-powerful, nuclear-charged hyper-laxative before going, twelve hours before the procedure. That meant I had to take this stuff just before darts began. The laxative hit at about game four of a seven game match. I spent the rest of the night in the loo, apart from when I would dash out for my throw. It was, surprisingly, the only time I ever got a 180 in league play. The degree of difficulty would be akin to doing the competitive swimming with really aggressive hiccups.
But I digress. In fact, this constant digression is starting to drive me battier than the Cadomin caves. It’s hard to focus on anything when your mind is constantly wandering off to think about cigarettes. I now see them everywhere. A stack of toilet rolls becomes a cigarette. Those white tubular road markers on the highway become smokes too. Anything white and cylindrical is transformed, be it a rolled up sheet of paper or ladies hygiene products. Nothing is safe from my withdrawal-fuelled imagination, no matter what the sensory input. When a buddy at darts mentioned a woman who had a nice butt, my thoughts were that she had a good half a cigarette I could bum.
Of course I am trying to replace smoking with other bad habits. I have been eating sunflower seeds constantly since I quit the cigs and now my tongue resembles over-done beef jerky. Even my finger and thumb are cracked and dry from the desiccating nature of the seasoning salt. Cupcake bought them for me after reading that they have some enzyme or something that helps with smoking cravings. I would say her information is wrong unless you’re supposed to smoke the sunflower seeds.
Licorice is another smoking cessation aid Cupcake has read about and dutifully provided me with bags of black Twizzlers. I figure she is either very supportive of my efforts to kick the smoking habit or trying to kill me with elevated sodium levels from the spitz and the licorice. I must say, however, it is exceedingly difficult to type quickly while trying to open sunflower seed shells which may explain why I am more distracted than usual while trying to write, or do anything else for that matter. Plus I keep stepping on errant sunflower seed shells that stick to my wool socks like Velcro and jab into my foot if at an unfortunate angle.
It is too early to say if this will be a successful attempt at being smoke free. It is motivating to realize in the short time I’ve quit, I’ve saved almost $50.00, though. I do have to factor in the sunflower seeds and licorice costs which bring the savings down to about a buck and a half, but still, other than gaining five kilos and about a dozen zits, I’m doing great!
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