The NonSmoking (well, sort of) update for July 30th - Contest Extension

So, how was your weekend?

Well, it started off pretty crapalicious, but ended pretty well.

Mmm-hmm. Do anything interesting?

Well, I had a great conversation with my freakStomp partners (things are about to escalate in a bigass way and I can't wait), I enjoyed a nice lightning storm, played some Guitar Hero II (I think I can safely move up to Medium difficulty and unlock some more songs), purchased one of the things I hate most on the face of this planet (I have already received some mysterious call from SC which is on my missed calls list and I'll just bet it was someone trying to sell me a bunch of junk, how do people find your number so quick - f*ck you, cell phones, just f*ck you to death), and when my real phone finally started working of course the very first call was from my old everpresent pal Dan E.

Nothing else?

No, that was about it, really. Oh, I had lunch at that cheapass CC's pizza joint. I figured I could afford all the extra grease since everyone's been telling me how skinny I've been getting (I do not feel all that skinny).

You don't have those apple cheeks with the dimples anymore?

They're still a little apple-esque. Maybe if you slice the apple in half. And dimples never go away, they just get smaller. I'm about 158-159 right now, which is within ten pounds of what I weighed back when I was twenty-one. I'll be satisfied if I can hit that. Then I might start running, or at least walking, depending on how blistering hot it gets.

YOU BROKE WEAK, DIDN'T YOU?

well...

SPIT IT OUT.

All right, all right. I forgot to buy some more nicotine gum on Friday, and by Friday night I was freaking the f*ck out, and instead of driving to The Wall-Mark like I should have I stopped at the Exxon station (which I always mistakenly call the Amoco) around the corner and bought cigarettes. Then I bought some more on Saturday, which I smoked with my other two friends who aren't smoking anymore. I feel like a giant douche.

You are. What brand did you buy, like I don't already know?

...Virginia Slims Superslims, the really long and skinny kind.

Those are quite possibly the gayest cigarettes ever manufactured.

Yeah, I know, that's why I bought them, so I'd feel like a dork every time I lit one.

Did you?

Oh yeah.

Good. You say your two goodtime buddies who don't smoke anymore smoked with you?

Yeah.

So now you're a snitch, too. Why do you keep looking over your shoulder at your back?

I'm just wondering when you're going to climb down off it.

Never, and let's not get cute.

You have to admit that was a little cute.

Breaking your promise isn't cute.

I'm aware of that.

Bet you feel pretty guilty about opening that DVD now.

I never opened it. I haven't had time to watch the movie yet.

It wouldn't be right to open it at this point.

No. I'm not going to beat myself up over it, though. I'm just not going to smoke anymore. These things happen, and beating yourself up over them will only make you give up and start smoking regularly again. I'm setting my own date for opening the DVD now, on August 12th. I went out Saturday and bought some more Nicotine Gum, so now I'm back on the wagon, and if I can make it to August 12th I can break the seal on that DVD and watch Harry Shearer stick a cucumber into his leather pants.

Hey, if you smoked this weekend, that means I also smoked, and man you really are a giant douche. Someone's going to get a nice chunk of Paypal money. How much?

I'm not telling. Let's just say someone will be able to have a nice sit-down meal off the current amount.

What's so important about August 12th?

Absolutely nothing. But speaking of the 12th, I've decided to extend the entry date for the contest until then, so get the word out. I'm also going to retroactively extend the "quit date" backwards. If you have quit AT ANY POINT THIS YEAR, you can enter. All you have to do is make the effort, and keep making it until Halloween.

So you really are feeling guilty about your little smoke weekend.

Yeah.

And you do realize that all the excuses you made while you were buying those chick cigarettes (really, man, how pathetic was that) were all just bullsh!t.

Of course.

What flavor of Nicotine Gum did you buy this time?

"Fruit Chill"

And how does it taste?

Like someone has been making fruit cocktail between their ass cheeks.

So, I guess it's back to "Mint," then?

Oh you know it.

Weekend of the Randoms

1. There was a terrific lightning storm here on Saturday, which brought the fury home for over two hours. There were flashes of electricity which lit up my whole living room, then the thunder would roll and overlap into one continuous rumbleboom. It was great. I watched some of it through the window (it was a bit too dangerous to go mucking about outside). There were visible strikes everywhere in the distance, arcs across the sky, and up until it knocked the cable out I was having a ball just watching and listening. My cable goes out, everything else goes out with it, because I have it all tied together. I didn't have a phone, or the internets, or TV (not that it matters since I watch very little TV nowadays) again until about 2 in the morning.

2. Actually, I didn't have a phone most of Sunday, either. A power surge strong enough to make my phone ring fried my cable modem (forgot to unplug that), leaving me without internets but with a working digital phone, so I had to go to Time Warner and exchange it. When I got home, I found that the cable worked but the phone wasn't connecting with the modem. So I had no way of calling Time Warner. I got so frustrated I went out and bought one of those $18 flip cell phones and a card to load some minutes on it. Did I ever tell you how much I despise cell phones? Well, I do. Every time I see a crowd of people and notice that they're all talking on their cell phones but not talking to to each other I hate them a little more. I do recognize that they are sometimes useful, though. My buddy/business partner was in town this weekend, and we went downtown to see the screenprinter, who wasn't there. We could've used one then. Then the lightning, and no phone, and could've used one there. Then the modem, and not being able to call Time Warner to tell them my digital phone wasn't working, could've used one OKAY I GIVE UP I'LL BUY A F*CKING CELL PHONE ALREADY. I picked the cheapest one I could find, and I am sure it will fall apart in three months, but whatever. It's just there in case I cannot be reached in any other way, and that's the only reason. I hate it, I hate carrying it and looking at that stupid screen with all that useless ringtone crap and wallpaper and"screensavers" and f*ck a bunch of connecting to the internet on your PHONE, and if that dude who runs this joint ever gets hold of my number that phone will fall apart a lot sooner than three months, because I will immediately throw it into the trash as hard as I can throw it the moment I see his number calling in. Hate you, cell phones. Hate you.

3. On my way to the Time Warner store at the mall, I saw this fellow sitting beside the road watching the cars pass. He was strapped into this strange combination wheelchair/bed, sitting upright. He looked like he might have been a paraplegic, and someone had wheeled him outside to get some air and watch the world move around him. I didn't mean to stare but I did, because when I see people in such conditions I tend to wonder how I would see the world, what I would think, how I would handle it, if I were in their situation, and I remind myself that even at the lowest points my life hasn't really been all that bad. At the mall I saw a fellow walking around who might have been a thalidomide baby He also had extremely bulging eyeballs, and from the way he was dressed I think he was a transient. I felt a little guilty about stressing over meaningless crap like digital phones and internet connections.

4. We were going to go to the Rusty Nail downtown on Saturday night, for the annual Cape Fear Blues Festival, but my buddy didn't really want to go. It would have been my first return trip there since 2003. After all the storming I was ambivalent about the idea, so no big deal, but it would have been nice to get out of the house. My other buddy/partner came over, and we all talked about freakStomp Novelties business instead, getting some things straightened out and writing down some choices for a large order of shirts. I'll be doing some ebay stuff for freakStomp in the next couple of weeks, as soon as the order is filled. We also have some people willing to model our shirts for us so that we can get some pics of the actual shirts on the site, so we'll be gearing up to do a photo shoot as well. Then we have to add to our stock of products. I suppose by the end of August there will be a lot of changes to freakStomp, so I'll alert you as they happen. The site has already undergone some changes - there's a comments/contact form page, and a FAQ, and the front page looks different, but it is all still being adjusted so it will change once again over the next few weeks. We have some limited edition sets/shirts planned which I think will be pretty damned neat (and not just because I came up with some of it), and that should happen before the end of the month, too.

5. One of the people who'll be modeling our stuff is Patika Starr, and you should go check her page out. She's a fire dancer. My friend Jackie (JS) put me in contact with her. Patika will be here in Wilmington on Wednesday or Thursday night for an art gallery opening, and I hope it's Wednesday night, because I already have a commitment Thursday -

6. A few weeks ago I found out the neighbor girls across the hall are in the Roller Derby, and they have a match this Thursday. I'll be going. They already said I could take pictures, so I'll show and tell you all about it when I get back. These chicks are rough and tumble. So between all this stuff, and telling you about the guy I know named Cosmo, and updating the Nonsmoking (well, sort of) Contest posts, and reviewing some more of the Shark Week DVD set, I should have a lot of content here for you by the time this week is over.

7. Cell phones. Still hate them. I want to throw it against the wall every time I look at it.

Vent post

If anyone needs to flip out because they can't smoke, this is the post to do it. Just leave any ranting in the comments - hey, you can rant in there even if you're not an ex-smoker, for all I care. I'm going to be inside a bowling alley shortly, and there will probably be a great deal of smoking people around since you really don't need that much wind to bowl, so I'll probably be doing a little flipping out of my own this evening. I am bringing extra nicotine gum. I wish I could bring my own shoes.

Obviously you're not a golfer.

I'm going bowling tonight, and I am actually fairly excited by the prospect. Not terribly excited about the actual bowling part, but the prospect of getting out of this house. I'm even going to buy myself a shirt this afternoon, and maybe a nice pair of jeans (all my clothes are beginning to bag out).

See, I want to get out and start doing things and actually living a life - but for one I hate Summertime, and for another I don't have anyone to do these things I want to get out and start doing with. It's just more fun to have someone I can crack jokes with, or who might point out anything I miss. Guess I'm just going to be forced into hiking up my britches and go about doing these things alone, though. Clear off my memory card and start taking those pictures I keep talking about taking, go downtown exploring, maybe just drive out a ways and see what I can find. I would go out to eat more, but there's really no more pathetic a sight than a dude eating at a restaurant by himself while staring straight ahead.

I like bowling okay, though. I don't completely suck at it (my buddy Alex was a bowler and he showed me a few tips and tricks way back when), and the bunch I will be with (the Wells boys) are rowdy and loud. I certainly hope the Big Lebowski quotes are kept to a minimum, even though I titled this post with one. That sh!t is played out beyond the beyond.

I'm so ready for Summer to be over. Fall is when I come alive, and I can't wait for all this crap to be over so I can enjoy my time more. Even if it's just bowling.

This Post Smells Funny

And so does this blog.

What is this?

It's a humor blog, just started yesterday, with a bunch of funny and talented people I know.

Another blog is just what the world needs. There are only five or six in the world right now.

This one is different. Only funny stuff. With six of us involved there should be something for you to laugh or cringe every day. Funny Youtubes, Funny Stories, Funny Audio, Funny Pictures and Photoshops, Funny News Links and Commentary, Funny Reviews, Funny Caption Contests, Funny Games carried over into the comments section. You know, funny.

Why?

This blog right here has multiple personality disorder. I veer from making jokes to whining, sometimes in the same sentence. I wanted to do something with people I like and respect that was a little more focused on one theme.

Fine. Why should I go there?

You'll laugh?

What if I don't laugh?

Everyone has a different sense of humor. There ought to be something there to amuse you.

I am not easily amused.

Well, you can't please everyone. So don't go, then.

Now I'm going to go just because you told me not to.

Fine.

Fine.

The NonSmoking Gun for July 18

This DVD has been on my shelf, unopened, for almost four years.

In August of 2003, I got a package with a bunch of DVDs inside, movies that the person who sent them knew I liked, but did not own. Most of them were for my birthday, some had little notes written and taped to them (I still have those notes in an envelope). Then there was this one. This one was different.

See, I'd made a promise to that person that I was going to quit.

I've never gone without a cigarette for seven days.

Oh, I tried, believe me, I tried my ass off. The patch gave me a rash. Nicotine gum sucked back then. Cold Turkey? Yeah, right. But I tried, in fits and starts, I tried.

Something always came up. Had a bad day, got a threatening letter in the mail, had to stay late at work, or just felt worthless for one reason or another, and I'd find myself standing in front of the counter of the Exxon station around the corner, pointing at the cigarette rack, not even second-guessing the decision.

"I'll take a pack of Camels."

"I'll take a pack of Winstons."

"I'll take a pack of KOOLs."

"I'll take a pack of Salems."

"Pall Malls, please."

I smoked Marlboro Lights, that was my brand. See, I figured if I picked a brand I didn't like, it would be easier to throw them away after the little Nic fit was over. You see how well that strategy worked. By the time it was all over I would smoke just about anything, even the generic brands that they make from the tobacco stuck in the machinery or piled on the floor of the factory. And then I gave up altogether, just started smoking my regular pack-a-day brand again. I'd quit someday, though. Someday. I promised. "Someday" used to be a common word for me, about a lot of things.

You know, she actually started smoking because of me. Reverse psychology. She thought if I saw her smoking all the time, I would quit. I didn't. I just felt like an awful person when I saw her with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, and would ask her to please not smoke even as I lit another off the end of the one in my hand. This girl, this woman who cared about me, who had hated smoking all her life and had been told by her father that only losers smoked, started smoking herself just so that I would quit. She smoked for a little over six months, until she resigned herself to the fact that I was never going to give them up, and she finally quit for good just after she moved down here. I kept on smoking, but I would quit, someday. Someday. I promised.

I never opened that DVD, though. That would have made me a liar. I am a lot of things, and I am not saying I never lie, but I am not that kind of liar. I left it on the shelf, untouched. Opening it would mean breaking my word to her. I was on the honor system.

Tonight, I'm going to open it. I haven't even seen the movie in four years, because in my mind just watching it on TV would have been as bad as opening the DVD. I am busy, but I'll watch a little of it. I forgot Bruno Kirby was in it. I miss that guy, he was a good actor.

Honor system. I guess it took me four years to get some honor into my system.

Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies...

The Discovery Channel Shark Week 20th Anniversary box set review, continued

AIR JAWS

If I were five years old again, and we'd had DVD players then, this show would be on a constant loop.

Did I ever tell you about my freakout over Jaws when I was a little kid? I probably did, but I will repeat it here anyway. I don't have total recall of my younger years, but I will remember this forever.

My Dad took me to see Jaws at the theater when I was a kid. I was either five, or had just turned six, when we saw it. I remember wanting to watch it again, right then, but we didn't. I wasn't scared at the time, I was too busy collecting up the pieces of my five (or six) year old mind, which had been blown into tiny pieces.

During the Summers I would help the old man on the shrimp boat (a small boat we used to shrimp in the Intracoastal Waterway, we never had a big enough boat to shrimp the ocean). At that age my job was mostly just sitting there watching, or culling out the shrimp from the net haul as we trawled for a second load. I didn't mess with letting out the doors, or pulling in the net, until I was a bit older.

So, after seeing Jaws that weekend, my Dad took me on our usual weekday shrimping expedition. We'd get up around 4:30 in the morning, and drive down to the Wildlife boat ramp down by the Snow's Cut Bridge (the ramp is on the opposite side of the waterway, further down - that's just a pic of the bridge itself). The only other people awake at this time were drunks swerving home from the beach, and other shrimpers. There was usually a small line waiting to unload at the ramp (which was really just poured concrete which had broken into a hundred pieces over the years). Most of these guys were black dudes in their late 60s or older, fishing and shrimping to stock up their freezers or to ice down and sell out of the backs of their ancient trucks (you can't do this anymore without a license).

I started getting a little nervous, remembering the dock scene in the movie, the one with the ham on the chain, and how the shark had just pulled the whole end of the pier into the water, and how when you finally saw the whole shark he was much bigger than the boat we were getting ready to put in the water, and how he had demolished the Orca just by launching into it.


I asked the old man if there were any sharks out here, and he laughed and said Yeah, maybe a few sand sharks. In my little mind a sand shark was something that could not only swim, but also tunnel through the sand and take a chunk out of you right on the beach.

He let the boat off the trailer and looped the line to a post, leaving me to stand on the dock and watch over it as he parked the truck. I remember looking out nervously over at the tall water grass and wondering what was hiding in there, and watching the old black guys crank up their outboard motors, waiting for that huge mouth to launch out of the water and bite their boats in half. It always smelled of gasoline and cigars and rotting fish and old men on the boat dock in those still dark Summer mornings before dawn, I can close my eyes right now and the smell will come back to me.

The old man came back and got into the water, leading the boat away from the dock and out of the shallows so he could jump inside and crank the motor. He was up to his chest when I saw it.

A fin, as wide as the one which sliced through the water in Jaws. It was just sitting there, waiting for us to come into range.

I completely lost it. I jumped up and started pointing and screaming and crying for my Dad to get back in the boat, he's coming to get you, he will eat us all, it's the shark, the shark , THE shark that that dog and ate Quint, he's back. I swear, I could see his huge body under the water, that tail slowly waving back and forth as he hovered in place, just biding time until the opportunity to spring forward arose.

All the people on the dock stopped what they were doing and started watching me.

My Dad asked me what the hell was the matter with me, and I screamed even louder because he was wasting time instead of getting in the boat.

He shook his head and moved towards the fin. He moved towards the fin. I nearly sh!t myself from all the screaming.

He grabbed the fin. Grabbed. The. Fin.

And pulled it out of the water. Just a piece of wood, that's all.

I was too young to feel like an idiot (those feelings would begin to occur frequently a few years down the road), but I knew I wanted to go home. NOW.

I had to listen to him curse a blue streak while he loaded the boat back onto the trailer, and all the way back across the bridge, and all the way back home, and I think I might have started to feel like maybe the shark eating him wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world.

***

So, if I were five again, the section of the DVD of this show would be worn out, but I would also never get into another boat again, ever. Because these sharks can fly.

This is one ton, moving at about 20 mph, launching from the ocean

There's a small island off the coast of South Africa, called "Seal Island." It is populated with, you guessed it, seals. The waters surrounding the island are populated with Great White Sharks. It's the only area in the world with this much concentrated Great White activity. The ferocity of the attacks on the seals is breathtaking. We're talking a ton or more of teeth and flesh launching out of the water, sometimes several feet into the air, sometimes with enough force to flip the shark end over end.

This is Dr. Rocky Strong, and that's a pulp fiction name if I ever heard one. Doc Savage, The Shadow, The Spider, The Avenger, Dr. Rocky Strong. See, fits right in.

Dr. Strong and his team study Great Whites, and they have come to the island to find out why the sharks launch from the water when they attack, and also record their behavioral patterns. They are all inside a boat not much bigger than the sharks themselves. At one point in the program Dr. Strong says that if one of the sharks breaching the water were to land on the boat, the force of the strike would surely sink it, and they'd all be paddling around in the most dangerous place in the world for swimming.

This is a chart of recorded attacks off the coast of Seal Island. The heaviest concentration falls into what they call the Ring of Death.

One of the people on board says he's seen around 400 successful breech attacks in a four year period, with around that many unsuccessful ones. Sometimes the sharks miss:

You root for these little guys, even though what's happening is just circle of life and all that bullsh!t. These seals really work their asses off to get away from the sharks, doing backflips out of the water, juking and jiving and circling the shark and I was on the edge of the couch the whole time. One of the crew said these gruesome dances can last five minutes or more, and if the seal can last that long he or she usually makes it to shore safely.

This is what happens to a Great White when it is struck on the nose. It loses coordination, it's jaws reflexively fall open, and it veers off. Apparently the focal point of all the shark's internal sensors is in the nose area, and striking a blow there makes all those signals go haywire.

Dr. Strong and his crew put together a dummy seal and trolled it behind the boat, performing some tests on attack angles and such. I think they just wanted to take some wicked cool pictures:

They made another fake seal, this one with a camera inside. Another camera would be dropped deeper into the water, and run parallel to the Sealcam, so that they could gauge the speed and angle of attack from start to finish.



The Sealcam. Dr. Rocky Strong says that it is made of material that won't harm the shark, to which I thought Who gives a f*ck if the shark gets hurt or not? The sharks don't give a f*ck if the seals get hurt; in fact, that is their sole intention. Shark gets a tummy ache because he ate some fake Sealcam? Tough sh!t, shark.

The real seals are fascinated by the underwater camera:

See how cute they are? I spared you from screen captures of seals that the sharks had mortally wounded flopping around in the water, or when the crew had to pull a wounded seal into the boat because it was using the boat as cover and the shark might have attacked too close to the boat and damaged the hull.

They recorded attacks on the Sealcam, and found out that the shark attacks at an almost vertical angle, upwards of 20 mph. That's like a car with teeth hitting you and biting down at the same time. Most of the seals die instantly, but some roll around in the water, bleeding out, until the shark turns around for the mercy kill.

Then the crew found a dead whale near the African coast, which they drug out to the Ring of Death near seal island. Groups of Great Whites gorged themselves on rotting whale meat and blubber, reaching a euphoric state as they filled their guts. At which point they became almost stoned in a way, bumping into the boat, rolling around aimlessly. Dr. Strong went into the shark cage, because they were showing all the signs of presenting themselves for mating, and he realized a Shark Orgy was about to go down:



I am not 100% sure, but I believe this is a Great White Shark's willy johnson

The next morning, only a small section of the whale was left in the water. Dr. Rocky Strong climbed out onto the whale's decomposing, slippery carcass to take some close-up shots of the sharks:








Dr. Rocky Strong: Fearless Explorer, or Moron? You decide.


After the sharks had finished shoving whale down their necks, Strong knew that they would have a window of opportunity to explore the bottom of the area, in a specially made single-man propelled shark cage:



He found countless seal bones along the bottom, and mapped out the area so that they would have a better idea of why this was such an ideal place for breaching shark attacks. They found several deep channels surrounding the island, perfect spots for the sharks to gain the momentum needed for the spectacular aerial assaults.

Great Whites are swift, maneuverable, and voracious in their appetite. The island and the waters around it form a perfect capsule picture of the food chain, and gave much insight into the behavior of Great Whites. I still think of them as the sharks that ate the little Kintner boy, but after seeing that shark's junk they aren't as mysterious to me.

***

And this, this is why I don't know about the blogging deal anymore. I spent a lot of time capturing stills, writing and assembling this, and for what? I mean, really, for what? Other than the same four or five people that always read my stuff (and thank you for that, really, I don't mean to downplay what that means to me), who's going to see it? No one. Same thing if I were to travel around taking pictures or video, or recording audio, and writing about what I saw. It isn't a case of me having only been back at it for a couple of months. I know in my heart that this situation will be the same a year from now. The internet is flooded, like the back half of the destroyed Orca. There's no room for me in it anymore, and I don't have a compressed air tank to shoot and make a big enough bang for people to notice.

"Cage goes in the water, you go in the water. Shark's in the water."

So I bought myself a little something as a reward for not smoking. I was going to wait until a week had passed, but it was only on sale until Sunday. For $18 I got the Discovery Channel Shark Week 20th Anniversary Collection boxed set. At Best Buy you get a bonus disc, "Dirty Jobs: Jobs That Bite."

I can completely relate to the title of this Discovery Channel program.

I hadn't been inside Best Buy for a month or so. They have all their flat-screen televisions mounted on the walls now, so there's this impressive line of HDTV running almost the entire length of the store, but they still insist on splitting the HD signal 1287 times so the picture quality still looks like sh!t on every single television. I don't get that. I never have. I mean, for a television, isn't the way the picture looks the single most important aspect? Over and above being mounted to the wall? "Man, you can't see sh!t and everything's all jittery, but it sure does look good on that wall. Like a Jackson Pollock painting, only not on purpose."

Anyway, Shark Week. You can find this 4-disc boxed set for around $20 retail just abot anywhere, and it's well worth it for the most part. There are 14 different shows spanning the 20 years that Discovery Channel has been showing Shark Week, around 12 hours worth of material. You get a lot of bang for your $20.

I have only watched a couple of the shows so far (my TV time has been curtailed through the Summer), but I have already come to the decision that I really only like watching animals eat people in crappy 1970s movies starring Bradford Dillman. Stephanie Star Smith, I wish to marry you.

I just can't really get into real-life-animals-on-humans snackery. The narrator always makes a point to say the sharks are misunderstood creatures, but that doesn't stop the rest of the film crew from using horror movie music and quick "Psycho" camera cuts during the recreations. It gives off a number of conflicting vibes: Am I supposed to be enjoying this? Why can't they pick actors who vaguely resemble the people they are supposed to be portraying? Do I need to understand the shark's motivation in this scene? Are the shark actors paid scale? Is that unintentional pun one of the worst jokes I have ever posted on this blog?

Yes. Yes, it is.

One of the expert dudes they talked to was this guy from South Africa who was a pretty straight shooter. They were giving all this advice on how to avoid shark attacks, talking about breaking up your profile and junk, and he was all like "Once that shark sets his sight on you, there's nothing you can do about it except get bitten."

So, I didn't get into the shark attack programs too much. I did like the other shows I watched, though, so I'll get into them later on today. With pictures!

Your Nonsmoking Update for Sunday, July 15

1. Did you know that you can snap and pop Nicotine gum just like regular gum now? You can even blow little bubbles. They need some grape or watermelon flavors, or maybe they should shred it and put it in pouches like Big League Chew. Or in the center of a sucker.

Nicotine gum used to be this awful piece of crap that you would chew while making the dookie face the entire time. Now the gum starts off all minty and tingly and fresh, but midway through it starts to taste like that prank pepper gum. Modern Nicotine gum technology has cut the time of your dookie face in half!

2. I have caught myself several times with the keys in my hand, headed towards the door, all set to race to the store. I took that card out of my pocket, looked at both sides, remembered the promise, and put the keys back. Then I just sit there and feel miserable until it goes away.

3. All this gum chewing. Between Nicotine gum pieces I chew regular gum. I am going to have jaws like Popeye has forearms before this is over.

4. There is something I haven't opened sitting on a shelf in here. It has a little handwritten note on both sides. I never opened it before, because I hadn't been able to fill the requirements of the note, so it's been on that shelf for the last four years. I will be opening it Wednesday evening, and posting about it here.

5. I get the cravings at weird times. I don't usually get them when you'd expect, like when I wake up, or after I eat. I get them at the oddest moments, like when I am washing the dishes, or when I was zipping up my Rockstar Cowboy Boots to go out to the grocery store yesterday evening (this is where I wear my Rockstar Cowboy Boots, in the hummus section of Lowes Foods). Weird.

6. I threw away the glued cigarette after day two. I just felt stupid beyond belief with that thing hanging out of my lip, and the looks I was getting weren't helping. I held on to the lighter, since it was a little gift from the girl in the front office from her trip to Vegas, and I like to play with it. So I still like portable fire even if I have nothing to set aflame.

A Reminder

The Quit Smoking Contest with FABULOUS PRIZES is open for entries until July 31st.




I am doing well, by the way, for the none of you who read this. No freakouts yet. Lots of chewing Nicotine gum like it was Bubblicious, though.

:( Part Three

I highlighted the best ones

:(

Pen Names

Let's say I were going to come up with a pen name for some project I wanted to do. What would be a good one?

Quitting Smoking - Weird Tips, Tricks, & Prizes!

There is a contest with some fabulous prizes to be won at the end of this post

DIGG THIS POST

I really want to quit smoking, for good this time.

I understand. So do I. It smells bad, it costs a lot ($3.50+ a pack here), and you feel like a Third-Degree Douchebag standing out in the rain while all your nonsmoking goodtime buddies laugh at you through the window because you just had to have one in the middle of a downpour.

Oh, yeah, and you're dying a little bit every time you put the flame to the tip.

You don't understand, man. I really, REALLY want to quit.


I totally understand. So do I, really, REALLY.

If I didn't have all this stress in my life today/this week/this month/this year, I would quit.


I've made all those excuses before, myself. Any reason, any tiny lie I could wrap the fingers that weren't holding the cigarette around, I would grab and hold onto it for all I was worth. Holy crap, look at all these problems I can use as an excuse to light another f*cking cigarette. Truck broke down, flick. Dude at work was being a jackass for no good reason other than he is a jackass all the time, flick. IRS sent me another letter printed on a picture of a big mean guy shaking his fist at me, flick. Lonely, flick. Black thoughts, flick. Watching Captain Kangaroo, flick.

It's your pal. It's your buddy. When it's late and all you can hear is the sound of the dripping faucet and your own worries, why look at that he's right there to put his skeletal arms around you, give you a light affectionate punch on the chin, and tell you things could be worse.

And they are worse, because your pal, your buddy, is trying to kill you.

I know all your little mind tricks and the bargains you make with yourself because they are the same mind tricks and bargains I make with myself, I know all about digging around in the ashtray late at night to find the longest butt because you're out and you don't want to get dressed and drive to the store, so let's just drop all the bullsh!t and be straight with one another.

But, but, it's an addiction!


Of course it is. And it's a drug, and it's a mental thing, and blahblahblahwhatever. You want to quit. I want to quit. Not for the afternoon, not for the week, not until you can get home and rip that patch off your shoulder and fire it up, baby. For good. Like, as in twenty years from now you will be celebrating the day you decided not to die.

So, again, let's cut out all the extraneous sh!t and do it.

HOW?


I can't really tell you how to do it. All I can do is tell you how I'm going to do it, and if it helps you, then it helps me. And really, people who are addicted to shredded bits of plant matter wrapped in paper which they then set on fire and draw into their lungs pretty much need all the help they can get.

I'll break it down into steps, because everyone seems to love all these steps, there's steps all over the place, you can't turn around without tripping over a step from some program. I can't guarantee it will work. If it doesn't work for me, it might still work for you. And if it doesn't work for me, I'm going to the doctor and telling him to cut one of my eyeballs out if that's the only thing that will work, because I am sick of it to the point of willing to wear a Bazooka Joe eyepatch forever. Can't see in 3D, but smoke-free, and here have some really crappy gum and a bad joke. I thought these things got me through some pretty dark times over the last couple of years, but when it came down to it all they really did was make the times darker.

Okay, so I'm ripping some of this off from various articles, books, tapes, CDs, etc. I've read over the years, and making it into my own plan. Years and years (and years and years and) ago one of my teachers asked me why I had to be such a nonconformist all the time. I'd turned in some project, but had done it the way I wanted to instead of the way she wanted me to, plus it was way late, and she was pretty exasperated with all my crap - up to here, even. The answer, of course, was I don't know. Sometimes you just have to do things your own way, and maybe it'll turn out even better. I got a C-(mostly because it was late beyond all reason), which was a lot better than the flunking which would have landed on my lap had I half-assed it her way.

So, step-lovers:

STEP ONE

I want you to think about the person you love and/or admire the most in the world. I mean a real person, not some fantasy celebrity creepiness you have going on in your damp little mind. If at all possible, I want you to promise this person face-to-face that you're going to quit smoking, and tell them the date you are going to quit. If this is not possible (it isn't for me, as I am trying to live up to some long-ago promises besides not wanting to die - have I written the word "die" enough for you yet? Wait, there's more) then you can email them, or call, or just whisper it under your breath or whatever. Just make that promise.


Every time I say I'm going to quit, my coworker/friend/spouse/family/special other always rolls their eyes at me and makes smartass remarks and it's just not very encouraging at all. It is the opposite of encouraging. It is, in fact, decouraging. Is that even a word?


No. Decouraging is not a word.

Listen, this world is filled with douchebags. That's not me being cynical, that's just a solid fact. Read the paper, and you'll see that between the ads for mattresses and fast food coupons it's just a near-solid block of text about douchebags. And some of these worldwide douchebags are going to work in the hamster cage next to you, or be related to you, or call you friend, or snuggle up on the couch with you to watch some Lifetime movie about housewives quitting smoking. People, even people you love, sometimes secretly love to watch other people fail even if they're not aware of it, because it makes them feel a little bit better about themselves, a little bit superior to you, in some subconscious way.

Watching you fail also makes some people feel better in a fully conscious way, which brings me to

STEP TWO

Now I want you to think about the person who would most like to see you fail in life. For some of you this might be the very same person from STEP ONE. I don't want to know that story. I mean, the person you can picture smiling smugly whenever you break weak and light that weed. The person you'd love to put that smoldering weed out on, right in the middle of that smile.

STEP THREE

Now, take a business card sized blank piece of paper, one that will fit into your wallet or purse or whatever inside a credit card slot that's easily accessible. On one side of the card, write the name of the person to whom you made the promise. On the other, write the name of your nemesis. Put the card into the credit card slot. Whenever you feel like going to the store and buying a pack so you can just have one and then throw the rest of the pack away (right), take out that card and look at both sides. One person you will disappoint, and one person you will empower. Think about that, and put the car keys back in your pocket.


That sounds an awful lot like a guilt trip.


It is. But it's the good kind of guilt, the kind you need to kick the thoughts of just one more out of your head so you can straighten the hell up. And hey, Catholics use guilt all the time, just look how well that's worked out for them.

That might be a bad example.

You get the point, though.

STEP THREE

This is where it gets a little weird. In every quit smoking deal I've ever read, they always tell you to change your habits, to rearrange the furniture and all your stuff around the house, to avoid places where people smoke. Personally, I think that's a lot of horseh!t. For a lot of you (like me), it's going to be nearly impossible to avoid such situations. People smoke all over the place, and putting your phone on the other side of the room isn't going to make you not want to smoke, it's going to make you think about having a cigarette as you walk out of your way to answer the phone. I like my phone where it is, right where I can see the answering machine kick on with that generic message (it confuses the wolves, and they need to remain confused until the Summer's over). And breaking ingrained habits is a lot like quitting smoking, so let's just deal with one thing at a time. It is probably a good idea to dump out all your butts and throw the ashtrays and stuff away, though.


So, here's what I'm doing.


See that picture up there that made no sense when you first saw it? I took a cigarette from the last pack I'll ever buy, and dipped each end into the same glue I've been using for various art projects. I let it dry. It is now unsmokeable (not a word, either). I'll hold onto this, or stick it in my T-shirt pocket (because I'm one of those dorks who thinks having pockets on your T-shirts is beneficial in some way).


I don't know about you, but I'm the type who can walk around with a cigarette hanging off my lip for an hour without lighting it. I play with them in my fingers, because I get all fidgety and awkward if I don't have something to do with my hands. I need the feel of one there, and a straw or a breadstick just won't be the same, won't have the same weight and size that my old deadly buddies have. A cigarette I can't smoke will. Torture? Yes, a little. I bet lung cancer is pretty torturous, too.

I'd have to tear it to pieces to try and smoke it, so there wouldn't be much point.

Now, when the people around me smoke (and they're going to), I'm going to pull out my doofy glued-up cigarette and I'm going to go through the same motions I always did, just for a little while, until I no longer need it. I'll put it in my mouth, and pretend I am still catching that smoke with them. I'll carry a lighter in my pocket (because I play with those, too), and maybe an empty cigarette pack, so everything remains familiar except the actual smoking part. If you see me walking around Wilmington NC with a cigarette in my hands, or hanging off my lip, you'll see that bead of glue on the end or you'll see me flicking at that lighter and you'll know that I'm an idiot, but I will be a nonsmoking idiot. When that cigarette wears to pieces, I'll bum another off someone who smokes, and immediately glue the ends of that.

This may not work for you. We'll see if it works for me.

That sounds pretty stupid, but whatever floats your boat. What about the physical addiction part? They don't make any glue for that.

STEP FOUR

You're a little on your own here. There are all sorts of medications and substitutes available to ease that withdrawal, that crazy hunger at 2 in the morning, so you have many choices. I'll probably get some of those nicotine lozenges to use for a while, since I believe I am allergic to some ingredient in those patches (I broke out in a swell rash all over my arm using them before). So in addition to looking like a fool playing with a fake-real cigarette I'll be spitting a lot. That should bring the ladies running. Seriously, I don't really care how I look, I just want to get this 20 year old monkey off my back.

So choose your poison, and carry it with you at all times. Remember to follow the cessation instructions, and buy the weaker stuff as directed.

Okay, fine. Big help, you. You seem to have a stranglehold on the obvious. What about all the mental torture and irrational thoughts? What about when I'm sitting in traffic and that Eagles song comes on the radio and I remember the bar I first heard it in and I was smoking then and pleasantly drunk and I WANT ONE RIGHT NOW YOU AND YOUR STUPID GLUED CIGARETTE WITH ALL THE GLUE AND STUPID?

STEP FIVE

I downloaded an mp3 by Paul Mckenna, a hypnotism thing I've been listening to at least once a day to gear up for this. I listened to it once all the way through while I was fully awake, just to make sure it wasn't just some dude whispering in a weird voice telling me to send him a blank check over and over, or that it wasn't specifically for women like what happened to Chandler in that episode of Friends.

At first I thought it was hilarious, with two different things being said out of both earphones, and that New Age crystal music in the background, and that English accent (I kept thinking about that old SNL sketch, "Well you know my name is Simon, and I like to do drawrings."). But when I seriously tried it, really sat down and listened and relaxed without snickering like a smartass and thinking "This is the stupidest goddamned thing I've ever heard," it actually made sense.

Something like that may work for you. Or a notebook to write down these times. Or a carrot to chew on. Or a fingernail. Or whatever. Find whatever works best for you, whatever sends your mind away from the memory of that Eagles song and that smoke-filled bar for those few minutes, and stick with it. Use it 100 times a day if you have to. Just don't smoke.

There you have it. That's all there is to it. I don't want to die, you don't want to die, your friends and family don't want you to die, and your enemies do want you to die. That should be all the motivation you need, the not-dying.

But I know it isn't that simple, and I know all the little bargains you'll try to make. So I'll just make you an offer that you can't refuse. Or maybe you will. I don't really know you.

What are you talking about? You make no sense. Between that kind of nonsense and all that whiny personal crap no wonder no one reads your blog.

Ouch.

I'm talking about bribery.

THE CONTEST

It's a simple contest, with simple rules, fabulous prizes, and anyone who is quitting smoking, has quit within the past month, or is thinking about quitting can enter just by posting a comment in this post here at http://kevinparrott.blogspot.com/, or in this same post on my myspace blog here - http://blog.myspace.com/kevinparrott, or in the same post at that blog I paid money for and only update because I feel stupid for spending cash on here - http://blog.kevinparrott.net/

The rules:

1. Pick a date you're going to quit, and post it in the comments at any of the blogs listed above. This date should be sometime in the next two weeks or so, and not in 2010. Use your real name and a real email address so I can contact you in case you win something. If you don't, your entry is discarded.

2. You have to quit.

3. You have to update me on your progress at least once. I'll be posting update blog posts for you to vent, or whatever, and I won't make fun of you for backsliding once or twice. Just be honest about it. I may be a little disappointed, but you have to trust me when I tell you that I won't be nearly as disappointed in you as I will be in myself if I break weak and huff that weed.

4. The deadline for entry is July 31st. So you have 21 days to post that comment, and tell all your goodtime smoking buddies about it. Contest is over on Halloween (it's my favorite day out of the year). So you have to quit for three solid months. If you can do three months, you can do forever.

And that's it.

So, basically what you're saying is that even if I'm not a smoker I can pretend to be one just to get free crap from you.

Yes, but that would make you a lying douchebag. And as I said earlier, this world is already filled with them, they're slopping over the rim and spilling all over the counter, so why make yourself one more drop in the cup?

What if no one enters? I mean, let's face it, you've pretty much been talking to yourself for the last couple of months you've been back.

I harbor no illusions about the amount of people reading this blog. 90% of my clicks from the past week at blogspot/blogger come from some weird page association with this picture, which I only linked to because I thought one of my jackass buddies would laugh. Hey, I just doubled my clicks!

When I first started blogging back in 2002, blogging was still a tiny above-ground pool party, and if anyone peed in it you could feel the water get warm around you. I had a little (little) group of regular readers, and then a bunch of people came all at once because I stirred up some sh!t I won't get into here. Then I left. When I came back, that tiny pool had been replaced with an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and everyone was peeing in it at the same time. There's no way I'll ever be able to get back a sizeable readership, not even if I was crapping out Shakespearean epics on a daily basis.

So, that's where you come in.

I don't know if I want to be associated with anyone who talks about peeing in pools or crapping Shakespeare or links to pictures of women wearing bras shaped like human hands.

I see your point, but I need your help. I need for you to spread this link around. Anywhere you can, doesn't matter. On your blog, on a message board you like, get a tattoo of the link, whatever. As far and as wide as you can, just spread it around. I'm giving away free stuff, so people will come. No one can resist free stuff. I once watched a person I knew get genuinely excited over receiving a free tampon sample in the mail, and this person was not a woman. I don't have a story to go with that - and would you really need to hear it if I did?

The point is, if out of every ten people who comes here, one actually quits for really-real, that's one who won't die from smoking, and that makes me happy. I have been thinking about death a lot the past year or so, due to a friend passing away. He didn't die from smoking, but I knew him for over half my life, and I don't handle death very well so it has always been there right beside me ever since. So if quitting with you, and bribing you with free stuff helps both of us to not to die, terrific.

If no one enters, I keep all this stuff for myself, and to be quite honest I'll feel like a fool and be a bit broken-hearted that no one entered. This is taking a really long time to write.

Get to the prizes.

Okay. All winners will be drawn at random on Halloween. You only get one entry, no matter how many times you post, but please keep posting anyway and let me know how you're doing.

GRAND PRIZE

I am part owner of freakStomp Novelties, where we sell T-shirts (and soon posters and stickers and greeting cards and handmade art featuring our designs and some other neat stuff I can't mention). Click that link, and go to the shop page. Pick a design you like, choose the color and size, and that T-shirt is yours. Everything is hand silk-screened here in Wilmington, NC at Soleil Screen Printing by our pal Mike. We use American Apparel shirts, not that underwear shirt crap you can get just anywhere. We may have actual pictures of actual people wearing our shirts shortly, but until then, if you want to see what one of or designs looks like when it is printed, click this link. We sell these shirts for $20 onsite, so that's $20 worth right there, but

That's not all you get.

We also do handmade art featuring our designs deep within the musty tents of the freakStomp Novelties sideshow, of which you will get a one-of-a-kind piece made by yours truly. This part of the site hasn't gone live yet, so you're getting a bit of a sneak peak here.

Check it, and please excuse the photo quality and lack of detail, as it is a combination of bad camera and bad photographer (me):

These are just a few samples. I use a combination handpainting/stencil/decoupage technique for the canvas, with blended colors for the inner background around the prints (on archival paper), and metallic blends for the borders, then everything is sealed up tight in a satin or gloss lightly antiqued finish. It's a Shabby Chic piece of art, finished and ready for any wall you wanna nail it to. They look a lot cooler in person, you can't see all the detail and brushwork here. The "Relish the Rainbow" piece looks especially cool, all wrinkled and aged like an antique poster, with a black and red iron oxide background and a copper blend trim.

I wish I could take better pictures. When it goes live at the store we'll have someone more professional than me behind a better camera take them for us. I'm not sure how much we'll charge for these, but you can safely figure around $30 each. No two will be alike.

This was taught to me by someone special years ago, although I altered it somewhat from the basic lesson. Anyway, I'm gonna make one of these for you, using the design you choose. I'll make sure yours is special.

So that's $50 worth all together, but

That's not all you get.

You'll also get a complete set of our Two-For-One Mystery Stickers (not pictured because they're a mystery, see). Those would go for about $15 altogether.

$65, but

That's not all you get.

I'm also going to give you a $25 gift certificate (or buy something equalling $25 off your wish list) from Amazon.com. Spend it on whatever you want.

So, $90 worth of stuff, just for quitting something you want to quit anyway. Not a bad deal, huh?

This is not a plug for our site, by the way. I am paying for and making this stuff out of my own pocket. If this were a plug I would just be giving you a discount coupon or some other crap. I want you to quit more than I want you to buy a shirt (but I still want you to buy a shirt).

FIRST PRIZE

One of our shirts, your choice, your size, your color. Plus a full set of stickers. $35 value.

FIVE RUNNERS-UP

I'm going to send these five people a list of DVDs. They are from my personal collection, so they are used, but I try to take care of my stuff so they aren't scratched or anything. Pick one, and an alternate in case someone already picked first. It's yours. If there's nothing on the list you want, give it to a friend, or go take $2 in trade for it at that ripoff Moviestop joint. That's up to you. $10-15 value here for each DVD.

MY PUNISHMENT PRIZE

I'm going to put a little bit of money into my paypal account. And I do mean a little. Every time I break down and smoke, I will add to it (I am pretty honest and guilt-ridden, so I won't cheat). You could get a little money, or you could get a lot, depending on how weak or strong I am. One person gets it all, but don't complain if it isn't that much, because that means I am not dying.

That's it?

That's it. I'm just one dude and I am not made of money.

What's the catch?

No catch, unless you consider quitting smoking and not dying a catch. I'd prefer it if you weren't a lying douchebag and were actually a person trying to quit, but there's no way I can prove it if you're not.

So, tonight before I go to bed, I am going to shred up all the cigs left in the pack except the glued one. All the ashtrays are dumped, ashtray and all. I'm going to listen to that English magician dude tell me it's a good thing in that special effects voice. When I get up tomorrow, I'm not a smoker anymore. I'm going to cross post this in the blogs I mentioned above. Then I'm going straight to the Walgreens and buying some of that nicotine stuff. That's my date, July 11th.

I'm not updating the blog until the weekend (really busy right now), but I expect to see a lot of comments and not a lot of disappointment by then. Spread this link.

Good luck on the contest. I'd wish you luck on your chosen quitting date, but you're stronger than luck.

You are beginning to sound like one of those motivational speaker douchebags.

I know. That hypnotism mp3 is having a weird effect on me. I'm not living in a van down by the river yet, though.

FUN FACT

I used the word "douchebag" in this post...well, a lot of times. Like I'm actually gonna scroll back up and count.

***

DIGG THIS POST

Transmission from the Intermission

She really liked the shirt and gift, guys. Thank you, Scoldy. That made my day after coming off a very long and very bad week.

We need tank tops for the girlies, btw. There have been a couple of requests.

That smoking challenge thing comes later today. I didn't get to finish it last night.

Be prepared to spread the word across the blogosphere and beyond, because I am giving several valuable prizes away over this deal.

Even though I don't know you, I don't want you to die, and I'm prepared to bribe you not to kill yourself.

And, Again

:(

I wish more normal people would read my blog.

Sometime tomorrow, we are going to talk about smoking, and quitting permanently, and a blogger challenge. We're going to help each other, you and I. And by "you and I," I don't mean any of these freaks above.

Everlong - Painterboy part 7

First Part - Second Part - Third Part - Fourth Part - Fifth Part - Sixth Part


I'm not going to tell you everything. You don't need to know everything, so I'm going to leave a lot of parts out. And I mean a lot. Some things are just for me, like her name. It's a common name, but it's shortened from a quirky longer one that I like a lot.

I can see you rolling your eyes. Oh, you say, so it's about a girl now.

I've got news for you. It's always been about a girl for me.

This is very long, but it seems way too short to me, if you can dig that.

***

1997, and I'm over at my folks' house for Sunday dinner. I'm at the dinner table, flipping through half the Sunday paper. My Mom is at the other end with the other half. She slides a section over to me and asks if I'd seen it yet. It's already folded, like she'd been saving it from earlier. My Mom sometimes acts like Georgette from the old Mary Tyler Moore Show, but she's a lot sharper than I give her credit for, and she remembers things. My folks aren't the kind of folks who nose up in my personal affairs, they still aren't, but my Mom knew about this one from long ago, she knew how I still thought about it even if I never talked about it, so she wanted to make sure I saw. I took what she showed me and clipped it out, and when I got home I slipped it into an envelope filled with other memories, and put the envelope back inside the drawer.

I acted like everything was all right whenever I mentioned it or it was mentioned to me, but for a week or so afterward, whenever I was alone at home, I sort of mourned over it like I had clipped out an obituary instead of a wedding announcement.

***

There were other girls. I mean, I didn't live like a Monk or anything. I think even though I wasn't aware of it myself, I was always just looking for a replacement. That wasn't fair to any of those girls, and if I had realized it I would have tried to stop it, but like I said I never really realized. And there never was a replacement.

So, 2002, and I had started this here blog. For a while it seemed like a suitable time filler, and I was making plans and schemes to get my act together, plans and schemes I fully intended to implement, someday. Someday. Sometimes it takes me for-f*cking-ever, but I always try to keep my promises, even the ones to myself.

And I was going out, trying to mix, trying to shake some of the rattling in my head loose and just not worry all the time, and plus it gave me funny stuff to blog about. I like to make people laugh because it makes me feel better - even if my humor is pretty lame at times (don't think I don't know it).

So it was all right, I guess, and I was feeling like everything was starting to level out, sh!t, somewhere along the years I had even finished that novel, so even if the business was a failure at least I could say I had started one, at least I could say I had written a novel that needed a second draft or a freshly struck match (I couldn't decide which), so that was SOMETHING, right? I had all these plans to fix everything and get on the right track so, something, right? People seemed to like coming to the blog, so THAT was something, right? Right?

Almost every apartment I paint out here is empty, but even though mine was filled with stuff it seemed like the emptiest of all.

I'd moved my blog over to kevinparrott.com in 2003, and had a working comments section. I never got a whole lot of comments, but I got a kick out of every one. Still do.

I got a weird (well, I thought it was weird) comment on July 16th, 2003. Someone asked if I went to JTH High School. I replied that I had.

Then I got a weird (well, I thought it was weird) email , and I knew who it was. Wow.

I have to be honest - at first I was wary, and a little suspicious. I had some Internet enemies (keyword there is "Had"), and who knew what lengths, what digging they'd do to get at me. She'd found my name on the net while searching for something in the library she worked. She told me things only she would know, and we started emailing back and forth, just casual, just friends, she'd recently been divorced and was still on the mend, but oh my heart skipped around whenever I came home and saw her name in the inbox.

Eventually I suggested that all this back-and-forth email business was silly