Tuesday, October 21, 2008


I've been listening to a lot of Bob Dylan lately. Too much for my own good. I can even tell you the exact moment it started:

[disclaimer: this has been grossly exaggerated - although the epiphany did happen]
It all began when I woke up on Saturday morning. I went to the bathroom – as all normal humans do when they wake up to bad morning breath and a hangover.
As I reached for my toothbrush, my tongue scraped the underside of my bottom teeth. It brushed against something rough, scratchy… something raised?
I freeze.
I quickly opened my mouth and looked inside. There inside was a rough white patch that had seemingly invaded my mouth and had instantaneously spread rapidly overnight.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
I gasp. Is it mouth cancer? I knew I was up to a pack and a half a day, but I figured I had at least six more years of being a smoker left before I would actually get hit with all the warnings that the Surgeon General (who I'm sure is some fat-ass old bag) left on the side of the box.
That was it. That was the moment.
I opened my mouth and raised hell. Shrieks of panic, complete hysteria, Amazon-warrior cries, giant fat tears rendered me blind.
Complete overreaction of course.
Especially when I woke up in the arms of my roommate, Aubrey Jackson, after I had passed out on the bathroom floor to her pouring water into my mouth and holding my hand.
I explained what had happened. My fear that it actually was mouth cancer and not my gums that had been infected with bacteria, that my dentist has been treating me for lately.
She walked over to the computer and typed in ‘Mouth Cancer’ in Wikipedia.com.
As she was reading what the signs of mouth cancer were, she looked up at me and with all her vegetarianism-environmentalist-hotness-actually healthy-eats three meals a day-non-smoker glory- she opens her mouth and says the words that I’ve been hoping for someone to say to me for a very long time:
“It’s your fault, you know.”
I sighed. “I know.”

there you have it, kids. I haven't smoked a cigarette in the last four days and I don't intend to anymore. I am slowly replacing my addiction with World of Warcraft, Avatar/Bleach episodes, and bouts of crazy rants turned on randomly by the irritation of not having nicotine in my bloodstream. Why these certain interests you ask? Because I already acknowledge that I have an addictive personality - and I hear WoW is better then sex and even the obligatory cigarette after said coitral - I also intend to become the ultimate WoW player (better then you Sweden/Norway fucks) I will dominate. I will prevail. I will still be single.

I hate my life.


Ella said...

girl, a lot of people think wow players are hot.

granted, i don't think you might find them hot...

i'm proud of you. have you gotten it checked out?

i love you.

Cherlaine said...

lol, carolyn would probably find many WoW players to be hot.

but you know it's worth quitting. i'll be your support system.