Thursday, October 14, 2010

Running for Camel Dollars

I rarely run. I am a man who likes easing my way into and out of things. Sluggish and fucking easy.. Right now me thinks, it's about time to haul some fucking ass though! The way I used to run when I wore my old school Chuck Taylor's.   (which I referred to as my fast shoes.) I might make it a half a block before my lungs start bleeding, but it's a novel idea. I'll do it a little later.

I'm a smoker. I love it! "Give me the patch, the gum, and a cigarette." This has been my credo for sometime now. What can I say, it makes my coffee taste better. I know all of the risks involved. I do it anyway. Again, I love it. Many of my peers and other nameless bench warmers have never understood why. They question my intelligence. I am the guy who offers cigarettes to strangers. Maybe at this point CAMEL should offer me a marketing gig. "When's the last time you put your lips around the butt of a Camel?" I don't mind pushing cancer on folks. It sounds like such an asshole thing, to say it like that. I do it anyway. Not because I'm wishing death on them yet, but because I enjoy it, and believe it may good for them too.

Have you ever had one of those people who ask you for a smoke while they are putting a cigarette out? I have. I hand it over. I understand the mystique of wanting to appear cool. I started smoking to "look cool". It just feels like the right thing to do in those scenarios. Here's another question I have that has plagued me. Who are you fucktard's that visit a friends house, use their restroom, take a shit, wipe your ass, and throw the "toilet paper" in the trash can? That is ten times worse than me smoking a cigarette with your 15 1/2 year old high school drop-out.

Anyway, just to let you know, I buy your kids cigarettes. Yep, that's me. I wait outside convenient stores all day long sometimes. Just chillin. Waiting on little Hezekiah or Gertrude to sneakily ask me to buy them some Newports. Why not? I figure. It saves you from having to head down to the police station to pick them up for shoplifting them. (that's how most underage lil shits get'em if you're curious.) Oh! It also puts a couple bucks in my pocket for my 1 box of shitty wine a day habit too. So thanks for their allowance.

Back to running. I got the jump on these "fat men in little coats". I figure if I get all Usain Bolt for about 100 yds., they'll just give up and I'll be on my merry way. I just despise running. It isn't even remotely fun. Trust me, I know. I have all the modern day running equipment. I own the Nike Shox running shoes, an ipod with the "Top Gun" sound track, some super fucking short shorts, I even got the Lance Armstrong "Live Strong" yellow bracelet. I don't wear the shit anywhere except to the bar, but I got them. I appear to be athletic.

Anyhoo, I'm picking up the pace on these rent-a-cops and making my escape. Just as I thought, they gave up. This may be a sign from CROM, (the god of steel and inventor of bacon and carnival red candy apples.) telling me that I need to slow down and relax. To live a drama free life. To leave your chitlins to their OWN wants and desires... Hmmm.. I think I need a smoke break to ponder this..

P.S. I like Regular cigarettes, the ones that taste like bark. Not Menthol, or Lights, or Ultra faggoty fag lights, or Slims.. Those are for amateurs.


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