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Smoke Jonesing and Ewok Dreams by Ray Printer Friendly

Just sitting around, trying to get in the groove. Man, I had such big plans. I mean, The Ultimate Battle! How can you bungle that one? I did a pretty good job screwing up the Batman/Crow thing, though (yeah, I do realize how much cooler that could have been). I just a have a special talent for screwing things up.

So I was thinking. Yep, I do that sometimes. I was thinking about cigarettes and smoking, because thatís pretty much Iíll Iíve been thinking about since three this afternoon. I started trying to count how many people have known me as a smoker, and thatís it. Like how many people did I know and hang out with and now I donít really know them anymore, and they only knew me as a smoker. The number is surprisingly high. Eight girlfriends, man.

I had eight girlfriends that never knew me as a non-smoker. I donít know why, but I find that really strange, for some reason. Eight people that wandered into my life, hung out there for a bit, and then left (sometimes forcibly ejected). And I smoked. I donít know why I find that so fascinating, but I do.

Jobs are the same way. Did you know that I have had ten jobs in my life as a smoker? Ten jobs where I took smoke breaks or went out of my mind. Ten different jobs where if my boss asked me if I smoked, I said sometimes. Guess how many years.

No, come onÖguess. Give up? Twelve years. By the way, the girlfriends and jobs thing, thatís purely estimated. I keep remembering new things, and Iím tired of changing it. Just so I donít have to keep changing it (does the job where I worked for the three-fingered carpenter for a week even count?), Iíve opted to call this post a work of fiction. Also, itís hard to put up a number of girlfriends, you know? Too few and my guy friends give me shit, too many, and my princess throws me out a window. Itís a fine line. So this is all just estimatedÖto make a point, you know?

Anyways, so I smoked for a long time. The best way to sum it up is an incident that my princess brings up all the time:

This was back in NYC, and it was about six in the morning, and Trey and I were sitting in my bedroom, drinking, smoking, and being loud and assholish, especially considering that my princess was trying to go to sleep. We somehow ended up talking about addictions (go figure, when we each have a bottle of liquor in hand, and a pile of empty cigarette packs at our feet). And he goes, ďWhere did you get your cigarettes when you were a kid?Ē

Itís hard to decide what was more frighteningóthat he had to ask a question like that, or that I was able to tell him without a momentís hesitation. My princess sat up, ďWhat? Did you just ask him where he got his cigarettes when he was a kid?Ē She asked Trey. And then to me, ďAnd did you just answer him?Ē We both just sat there, looking at her. Itís always surprising when youíre real drunk, and someone who you thought was asleep sits up and starts talking. I donít know if we ever answered her, but since both Trey and I get talkative as hell when weíre staying up all night dinking, we probably did.

Anyways, enough about that.

You know what I think would be a great addition to The Ultimate Battle? Ewoks fighting Sesame Street. That would freakiní rule, I think.

I had a dream about Ewoks the other night, actually. They were running around, being very threatening, and I kept thinking about how weird it was that they were being so violent because they were supposed to be cuddly and lovable and comedy relief-ey. And yet, they kept killing members of my search party.

Iím not entirely sure why I had a search party, if you want to know the truth. Maybe we were looking for Ewoks, but I sincerely doubt it.

And then I was at work, and my manager was telling me to open the front doors. I took it in stride, like you do in dreams, and as I was unlocking the doors, I noticed all these zombies getting out of their cars and walking up to the doors. I asked my manager if maybe we shouldnít keep the doors locked, but she told me that we had to open the store. I tried to explain to her that there were zombies out there. She goes, ďI can see! Iím not stupid! But we have customers that need to buy TVs. Now go open the doors.Ē I tried to at least compromise, like maybe not turn on the automatic doors. That way, real customers could come in for TVs, but the zombies wouldnít be able to figure out how to open the doors. But she would have none of it.

There was quite a bit more to the dream, but itís only interesting in that dream-you-just-had kind of way, and since it wasnít your dream, you would probably find it rather dull. Iíll tell you the end, though: All the zombies got in, and they killed my manager and ate her, and then they were coming for me. I pulled a pistol out of the cash register and I put it under my chin just as all the zombies were climbing over the customer service desk. And I go, ďI really hate this fuckiní job,Ē and then I shoot myself.

I always hate killing myself in dreams, because it messes me up so bad when I first wake up. Like, ďWhat just happened? Did I do it wrong? Was it a dream?Ē And Iím all looking to see if I have a gun and if thereís a hole in my head. Just not a great way to start out the day, you know?

You know what is a good way to start the day out, though? Like when you open your eyes, youíre just starting to wake up, and you suddenly realize that you can smell coffee. And then, when you stumble out to get some coffee, you realize that your princess has picked up McDonaldís for breakfast. Yeah, that happened to me the other day, it was awesome.

Hereís something that sucks, just to counter-balance that: my glasses just fell apart. Iíve been wearing these same glasses as long as Iíve been smoking, what do you think about that? They come unscrewed and fall apart all the time, so I usually have a little bitty screwdriver handy. It sucks though, because Iím really blind, so when my glasses break, itís hard as hell to track down the things I need to put them back together.

Once I woke up because I had to pee real bad. I staggered into the bathroom, and right in the middle of my pee, the lens fell out of my glasses and dropped into the toilet. The thing is, I couldnít stop, because Iím so blind that my aim would be off, and nobody wants that. I just had to finish up, knowing that a part of my glasses was in the toilet, and also knowing that I was going to have to get it out.

Try sticking your arm into a toilet bowl full of warm piss first thing in the morning. Heck of a way to start the day, let me tell you. I washed my hands and my arms for about twenty minutes, and then I went right back to bed. A day starts out like that, the only sensible thing you can do is go back to bed and maybe try to start over again later. There isnít a reset button in real life, but going back to bed is the closest thing there is. Iím not stepping out of my front door if I canít even get ten minutes of being awake before I have my hand in a toilet bowl. Thatís just asking for trouble.

Anyways, speaking of bedÖI guess itís time for me to call it a night. I hope youíre all holding out better than I am.

Peace out, liíl homies.

posted 7/24/05


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