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.
