Useless Smokers

Every once in a while I like to go out for a night on the town, to try and forget all the shit you people give me to write about. There is nothing like having a couple of cocktails, getting out on the dance floor, having a little fun. However, after a couple of hours, I feel like a 7 year old Malaysian kid in a sweat shop. So I will usually take a step outside to get a breath of fresh air and cool off. Usually, at this point I have forgotten all the stupidity that raises my fucking blood pressure. Unfortunately, this is the time that someone brings me back to reality and gives me chest pains.

A person will walk up to me and every other person outside and ask me for a lighter or even worse a smoke. Now some of you who smoke might think I am an asshole. My defense against such allegations . . . is you can go fuck yourselves. How does someone have a habit, that gives those cravings that makes them irritable pricks every forty five minutes, and not have everything they need to satisfy those cravings. Listen you fuckers; do you really think you won’t be craving a smoke in 45 minutes? So fucking stupid. “Can I bum smoke”? Hell no, but you can go fuck yourself.

And don’t confuse me for someone who is anti-smoker. I know a stress-related heart attack will get me before lung cancer gets any you assholes smoking. I don’t give a shit how you end you fucking life faster. Booze, smokes, sex, drugs; fuck it, who gives shit. Name your poison and take it.