Laugh when he jokes, slap him when he chokes...

... it's time to give up the smokes. *

And it is. I quit for two years, then in a moment of, "ahh fuck it all" I started again. I was living alone, after all - I could do what I damn well liked - I would go through all my old bad habits one by one just for the sheer hell of it and there would be no consequences.

Up to a point.

My most delightful dinner companion looked me up and down yesterday and, after a moment's deliberation, declared that I should start using moisturiser otherwise in ten years time I would have a face like a knackered handbag and she wouldn't be seen in daylight with me (or words to that effect). It gave me a moment or two's pause for thought. I'm really not sure if it was a joke or not...

It's no shock to learn that apart from cancerousness et al, long term smoking kippers your skin and makes you look like a shrivelled apple at a time when you really want to clutch on to the last of your vanity. So, apart from poverty, an inability to walk at any great pace without wheezing like a clapped out accordion, smelling like an ashtray and gaining a grey pallor and yellow teeth, I now have to contend with fast encroaching wrinkliness and a lonely old age....Someone get me to Jenners' beauty counter, quick

- and along with that portent of doom, I quit smoking again yesterday. My bestest boy buddy pointed out in a well-timed email that I am the only person he has ever met who can smoke with application and seriousness and then quit on a whim without batting an eyelid, so I'm reasonably confident I'll stick with it. *sigh* Procrastination- and eating junk, naturally -would appear to be the last truly bad habit left (unless others could tell me differently). Ah well. Welcome to the Cheap Seats indeed.


* And ohh when he cries don't wipe his eyes,
take the wine from the swine,
and remind him of his crimes.
Ohh in another world............
yeah he could wear a dress.
Imagine his surprise when he opened his eyes,
and I'd run the lawnmower over his thighs.
Imagine the disturbance,
at the time of the occurrence,
when his life became a burden,
and we laughed at his cries.
Welcome to the cheap seats,
where your life's seen through cracked spectacles.

The Wonderstuff, "Welcome to the Cheapseats" . Ahh.... nostalgia!