Saturday March 28

Well THAT was a wash.

I'm sorry to say that there are no photos to post of naked asses in chaps. The $20 went unclaimed. I have a feeling the closest anyone came was when I pulled my pants down while on the balcony just low enough to press my gluteous up against the window for the enjoyment of the crew in the teepee. Did I mention there was a teepee in the living room?

Yeah, there was a teepee in the living room.

This party reminded me about the part of quitting smoking that I hate the worst, and that's the loss of control over the brain-mouth connection. Knowing when to shut the fuck up is a skill that takes years to hone, and it's amazing how all those years of careful craftmanship and self-improvement can be rendered moot by a couple of poorly chosen words uttered at a volume about 3 levels too high. After that, there's really nothing left to but drink until you can't feel feelings anymore, and smoke lots and lots of cigarettes. Fortunately, in this case, my ability to fixate on every tiny embarassment I've ever endured made it impossible for me to do either of those things. I had a couple more beers, but I didn't fall into oblivion; rather I reminded myself that I knew a guy who, at an office party, got so slammed that he was literally running up behind people, jumping on their backs and biting their necks. So it could be worse.

I did smoke at this event, but not to the level that I usually do. Ordinarily, at a house party, I'm the guy who lives on the balcony sucking down one cigarette after another after another. In a 3 hour stay It'd not be uncommon to go through 15 cigarettes. At this event, I burned through 4, 5 at the most (so let's say 5). That's a long way from Quitsville, but still, I'm not too disappointed. I wound up WAAAY overstaying my welcome and was one of the last 3 people to vacate the premesis. Got the hint when people were crawling into bed. Subtle.

TOTAL CIGARETTE COUNT FOR FRIDAY: 7

THE NEXT DAY

Saturday morning was spent doing exactly 2 things: Pounding my fists into my temples and groaning loudly at my self, and taking care of Pam, who drank so much that the resulting hangover displayed the exact same symptoms as the Honta virus. (For the record, I have no idea what the symptoms of the Honta virus are, but with a name like that, I would imagine loud painful moaning and chronic full-body heaving are part of the package.) It was a good day of reflection, and I took the time to remind myself that sometimes, the effects of quitting smoking are as bad, and even worse, than the effects of smoking. Knowing myself, and the fact that I'm on something of a hairtrigger when it comes to saying stupid shit in public anyway, I decide to not beat myself up about it any more and chalk it all up to life experience. I also wonder whether my resume is up to date. Did I mention this was a work-related thing? Yeah, it totally was.

Saturday night I'm invited to another birthday party for another friend, and although I promised I'd go, I'm feeling too stupid, am too concerned about Pam, and am too angry about smoking so much the night before that I decide to bail. Instead Tim drops by with a case of beer and we spend the night playing Little Big Planet and watching Righteous Kill. All day long I want a cigarette, and all day long I stay glued to the couch, staring into my giant TV. I think I only left the couch long enough to use the bathroom and pay for the pizza we ordered. When Tim leaves for the night, Pam heads back to bed and I decide to chill out on the couch for a while longer to watch the end of SNL. I wind up falling asleep there. Thus ends my first smoke-free day so far.

TOTAL CIGARETTE COUNT: 0
Saturday