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2002-07-31
Beware of Dog
Ow. My lungs.

Since things have been lousy lately, I've kind of started smoking a lot again. I�m not proud, but it�s happened.

I have a long and torrid history with cigarettes. I started smoking cloves my freshman year in college, which rapidly escalated into a pack-a-day habit. Smoked on my way to class, in the car, while studying with coffee, and especially when drinking. Since that�s pretty much a list of my collegiate activities, I smoked all the time. Then, my junior year, the Marlboro Lights weren�t doing it for me anymore, and I was dating a poet. So he introduced me into the world of rolling my own cigarettes. Djarum. My roommate couldn�t wait for me to get out of that, because I left nicotine crumbs everywhere. I used to get a kick out of rolling smokes out in public though � people would stop and stare, thinking I was rolling a joint, or they�d just look at me with this expression on their faces like, �Man. That girl is making a doobie right there on the sidewalk. What a gutsy little stoner.�

Sometime during my senior year, I switched over to Marlboro Lights menthol. Oh, I remember why. My roommate that year and I both came down with some cold/flu/nasty disease that neither of us could seem to shake completely. After a month, we made a pact to stop smoking until we were better. I wussed out, and started partaking in mentholy goodness because it made my sinuses feel clearer. By the time I got better, regular, non-menthol cigs no longer tasted right.

I�ve been gradually cutting back since college. The secret was to break one habit at a time. First, no smoking while walking. Then, no cigs in the car. No smoking at work. No cigs with coffee was kind of a tough one, but I stopped that, too. The only thing I never shook was smoking when I went out, so I compromised with myself, thinking less than a pack a week wasn�t too bad.

When I started running a few months ago, I cut down even more.

But since the middle of this month, I haven�t been doing as well. I�m definitely still not a pack-a-dayer, but I�ve been smoking occasionally during the day. And I was weak, weak, weak this weekend.

Of course, we were drinking beer on a boat all day Saturday, so that didn�t help. So went out Friday night, smoked. Smoked all day Saturday, and then continued into Saturday night. None yesterday, but it�s only because I�m pretty sure my lungs are bleeding. I�ve even got a slight cough, and my voice has sounded better.

Sunday night, Shawn and I went to a friend�s house for dinner, which was being cooked by another couple of friends. Several dogs live there, and one of them is not very popular, because he�s a biter. He just� bites. Everyone. He bit Shawn�s hair. It�s sort of a mystery, because his owner raised him just like his other dogs, and his other dogs are wonderfully well-behaved.

While we were waiting for dinner, this guy T all of a sudden comes running out to the front door, carrying Bitey. T was extremely pissed off, and walking kind of funny. He tossed the dog outside and waddled back to the bedroom.

When we finally got him to tell us what the hell had happened, some of us probably wished we hadn�t. T had been taking a leak, when Bitey nosed his way into the bathroom, and bit the only thing that was jutting out at the time.

Cockbiter.

People. The dog put a hole in T�s pants. He walked strangely for a good half hour. About an hour after the initial bite, we were all sitting around watching a movie, when out of nowhere, T let out a small groan.

�I think my balls finally just emerged from my torso.�

He still finished cooking dinner, and it was great. Even though I told Shawn I only wanted a little bit, she dished me up this huge plate of garlic bread, pasta, meat sauce (which she KNOWS I don�t like) and sausage (which she REALLY knows I don�t like). I ate a little, and pushed the rest around.

Shawn walked over, noticed my plate, and started shrieking (she had been drinking beer, and was past the level �Shrill�): �Don�t you want your sausage?! It�s turkey sausage! Turkey sausage! Eat it! Don�t you want it?!�

Now, the whole room was staring at me, and another girl had even started to chime in with similar shrieking. While I was looking at my plate, trying to think of a polite reason for refusing food, I saw a golden window.

�Actually, I thought I�d wait and make sure that T didn�t need it, first.�

I didn�t have to eat the sausage.

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