I prefer my coffee with cat piss...

Let me tell you about my very odd weekend, and pissy day today (which has become the norm for me.)

This weekend I read an article in Esquire about a man who tried smoking for five weeks. He didn't enjoy it, but had always wondered what the experience was like. I decided to follow suit. So, I drove to my local Hess gas station for a pack of small cigars. I opened one up, and gave her a light. Didn't smell too bad, as I was used to various smokes that my grandmother would have around me. ...I didn't inhale.
Next I tried Swisher Sweets. They're actually very nice. The filter has a sweet taste to it, but doesn't add to the smell or taste of the smoke. They're okay. Again...I didn't inhale.
I had some idea in my mind -- a fantasy -- that lead me up to this point. I imagine myself, standing with all the other smokers, and talking about eachother's life stories. It's okay with me I don't mind the idea of smoking so much. What does bother me is that there is a suspicion that the smoke from these things can cause cessation of the olfactory nerves. I won't smoke these as often as I thought I might. I can't NOT smell things.

Now...to today's bitch-fest. Things were fine up until the end. Then some man came in to the credit union. Blue SUV, short hair cut, password on his account. You must get the idea here. I ask him how he's doing, and get a reply something to the effect of, "I need a pen." Alright, ya bastard, here it is.
My insides explode, and everyone else notices it -- including my new best buddy teller. She gives me some comfort in the fact that I'm right (which I know is bullshit). My long-time annoyance with the redneck lifestyle is coming to its pique. I need to move on and out...

Plans for the future:
1) Go to college (not in redneck region)
2) Get writing degree, and some much-needed talent (not in redneck region)
3) Live in a more progressive region (not in...you get the point)


Alright

/end rant