 It’s been ten days since I’ve had a cigarette.
I haven’t been able to say that for over twenty years.
I was able to get through the first three days with a drug called
Chantix, which inhibits the nicotine receptors in the brain, which
means you go through the withdrawals before you actually quit smoking
so they’re not as severe.
The drug could only do so much, however. About three days in I found
myself in short supply of both Chantix and willpower. It was then that
I discovered the Greatest Anti-Smoking Drug in the World.
Benadryl.
Yep. I popped one of those suckers and washed it down with a beer
and within ten minutes I didn’t want a cigarette anymore. It’s amazing
how much willpower you can muster when you’re completely unconscious
I’ve also been using negative re-enforcement to make sure I don’t succumb to cravings. Every time I decide I can’t take it anymore and I’ve got to have just one little cigarette, I march into the bedroom and slam my testicles in a drawer.
That usually makes me forget about the cigarette very quickly.
In a particularly desperate moment at about two in the morning last week I called the Quit Smoking Hotline of the American Cancer Society.
A very nice guy named Jeff answered the phone and talked me down off the ledge, so to speak. He also talked me into continuing phone counseling sessions that they offer as a free service to anyone who’d like to stop smoking. It sounded like a good idea so I agreed and we set it up.
I of course forgot all about doing this and went about my business.
Early today I was home alone making myself breakfast and feeling unusually irritable when my cell phone rang.
Me: Hello?
Voice: Hi this is Jeff from the American Cancer Society.
Me: (Forgetting about the late night phone call I had made,) this is a cell phone! How in the Hell did you get this number?
Jeff: You called last-
Me: I COULD HAVE YOU ARRESTED YOU SON OF A BITCH! HOW IN THE HELL DID YOU GET THIS NUMBER?
(silence)
Me: Wait did you say the American Cancer Society?
Jeff: Yes.
Me: Jeff?
Jeff: Yes.
Me: How’s it going, Man? Sorry, I forgot about the…um…thing.
Jeff: I’m guessing you haven’t had a cigarette in a while.
Me: Not in a long while, no.
Jeff: How’s that going?
Me: I sleep 20 hours a day and my balls are killing me.
My wife is watching me with great interest. She is a smoker who would like to quit soon but we decided that it would be a bad idea for both of us to quit at the same time as that would likely result in the two of us brandishing broken beer bottles at each other at some point.
She still smokes but kindly not in the house.
She has, however had some upset stomach issues and has decided to stop drinking alcohol in the interest of not exacerbating the problem. I have made no such decision with regard to vodka and enjoy it with great relish in the absence of tobacco.
So here we are in the house, each of us enjoying the one thing that the other has sworn off.
It’s getting rather vindictive, too.
Me: Well I guess I’ll have a drink.
Her: You do that, Sweetie. I’m just going to step outside and have a nice long smoke.
Me: Boy this drink sure is good!
Her: Best cigarette I’ve ever had!
Me: There’s so much vodka in my glass that there’s hardly room for any O.J.!
Her: I can taste the sweet sweet smoke as it goes in my mouth down my throat and into my lungs!
Me: THE DELICIOUS BUZZ OF ALCOHOL IS CLOUDING MY JUDGEMENT AND CAUSING MY SPEECH TO SLUR!
Her: WELCOME TO FLAVOR COUNTRY, POPULATION: ME!
And that’s really what marriage is all about, People. Being able to enjoy something that you’re spouse can’t and rubbing it in their face.
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Quirkee Voices 
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