I just got through the first five days of no smoking PLUS surprise PM-fucking-S.
I’m basically better than Mother Theresa.
Harry Potter. That’s so Ravenclaw!
You know how in He’s Just Not That Into You, Ginnifer Goodwin’s character think she’s the exception to the rule? And how dudes just have issues and would otherwise like her insane, crazy, terrifyingly co-dependent character?
That’s how I am. But I’m dating Camel Lights. Sure, EVERYONE gets cancer. But not me. I won’t get it. Because he IS into me, he’s just really scared and fucking some other girl.
I hate Day #3.
Replace writer or singer or ANYTHING with smoker. Thanks, Sister Mary Clarence.
Mark Twain
I feel you, homeboy.
These little bastards not only take away your greatest love but also increase your dress size. What goddamn darlings.
Jed Bartlett. Smoke on, Sexy.
You know after you’ve watched The Killing? Or, like, The Believer? And you’re all “Oh SHIT Ryan Gosling is crazy good as a Neo-Nazi / Self-Hating Jew. I wish I had a cigarette.”?
That’s where I’m at right now. Having a personal Holocaust.
Does this mean I can never use my Hillary Clinton “We Are The President” lighter ever again? Fuck.
Things I’d tongue-kiss for a cigarette:
Kim Jong-Il
A cactus
A cockroach
Your butthole
An albino
Jackie Earle Haley
