Ashtray Juice

Funny, I still use the same password for certain web things as was assigned to me randomly 4 years ago by some online dating site I can't even remember the name of now. Yes, that was the one that brought Dave and I together... the fucker who shagged his aunt, yes that's right, and while living in my house I might add. Ahh the memories.

Sitting here in near silence, save the purr of the CPU, wanting a cigarette so bad that I'm almost willing to drag my daughter out of bed to go to the store. --I said almost; I'm not quite that selfish. Actually, the irony is, I hate smoking. I grew up in the backwoods armpit of the piedmont, Johnston County. It's come a long way since I was 14 years old and saving my lunch money to buy bootleg whiskey on Friday nights... and well, that's when I first began smoking -- something to do to pass the time waiting to get drunk. Anyhoo... Never been one to keep a pack on hand, usually just comes with the mood, and I'd rather throw up than smoke a cigarette first thing in the morning. Generally, I hate cigarettes. Hate the smell, the taste, hate the way the stench permeates everything and leaves the world smelling like an ashtray. Like the way my mother smells, has always smelled. I remember as a small child how she used to do the 'thumb-lick-rub' mother thing to my face and I remember thinking that my mother had just smeared ashtray-juice on my face. Disgusting. I generally don't date men who smoke either. Maybe that makes me a bit of a hypocrite, but well, aren't we all to a degree? To add to the further irony, I still consider myself a 'non-smoker'. "It's kinda like my peace-pipe," I say, "helps me think when I write." And well, I have conditioned myself so that when I do sit to expel as such, I instinctively want a smoke, kinda like "When you give a mouse a cookie"...

Ahh yes, which reminds me, I hate cigars and football too.

I'm in a rather foul and distant place tonight. Antisocial. Very antisocial. The kind-of mood that would make me hide behind a display of Krispy Kreme donuts if I happen across someone in the grocery that I know well and should want to say hello to... and most especially, God forbid it be someone I haven't seen in 5-10 years. There's just no way to catch someone up on all my shit... much less expect any reaction other than a deer-in-headlights-wtf-is-she-talking-about look with an occational chuckle when I toss in some twisted humor at my own expense, you know, to keep the trauma "light." Pfft... And I hate small talk too. Nope, "You'll just have to wait 'til the movie comes out" I say.

Ohh, so negative tonite aren't I? Okay, good karma and stuff... Good things about my day: 1) I made my daughter giggle by blowing raspberries on her tummy, 2) I made it thru yet another day without being pulled over for an expired inspection sticker, and 3) I have not yet fallen victim to the world's apparent epidemic of natural disasters. Yay! [*knocking on wood...*]

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"Good can imagine the possiblity of being evil..."
--W.H.Auden