I will never smoke another cigarette again.
My last cigarette was midnight, Friday, September 15, 2006.
Don't congratulate me.
It's disgusting how long I've smoked, and how sick I got from it, and my quitting is something people should be indignant about.
I want your response to be, "it's about time you f-tard.", "Smooth move Einstein, you realized cigarettes are killing you. People have only been telling you that since 1981."
I smoked cigarettes off and on for 12 years... and I don't even come from a trailer trash upbringing. I was up to a pack to a pack-and-a-half a day at times the past couple of months.
I couldn't breath on Friday morning - I realized it was time to stop.
I went to buy nicorette to help me get through my show at the Improv Cafe last night,
so I walked into the Duane Reade, got a bottle of water and walk up to the counter:
"I'd like a pack of nicorette."
"That's sold in the pharmacy. The pharmacy is now closed."
My face reflects my crushed spirit.
"The pharmacy will open at 9am tomorrow."
I'm down right nervous now, scanning the gums along the counter trying to find a substitute.
"I can sell you cigarettes instead," she says with no irony in her voice.
I bought a pack of trident and used her stupidity as my opening bit.
Thanks Duane Reade, you really know how to help a gal out with her health.