It’s Fursday! Bring on da funny!

I’m starting with the kind of hoopties I grew up with- big scary trucks. All the cool boys drove trucks with engines so loud you could hear them a mile away. (Oh shit- I am giving away the fact that I grew up in a tiny town- now you will all know that my urban cool was learned as soon as I got to the big city at the ripe old age of 18). I spent many hours with my high school boyfriend and all his friends sitting in the garage while they worked on big scary trucks or putting back together old muscle cars to race. I learned how to grease the hub of a 4 by 4 and what a manifold was. There is a bonus to all this knowledge- I am smarter than the average girl (and a fuck of a lot of boys) when it comes to dealing with mechanics. On at least 2 occasions I have told mechanics exactly what the problem was (alternator on one, starter on the other) and the mechanic then wasted several hours trying to prove me wrong only to have to apologize in the end.

Three days in and no one is dead or even slightly mutilated. I haven’t even yelled at the monkey boy (which is why I quit trying to quit the last time I tried to quit- I was bordering on Joan Crawford levels of scary).

I have this sudden massive swell of energy. I woke up at 6:30 this morning to clean my carpets. I was going to use the carpet cleaner, but instead I got a bucket of hot soapy water and a giant scrub brush and started cleaning the carpet by hand. If I hadn’t just quit smoking I would think that I am bi-polar and in the midst of a manic phase. Seriously, who scrubs their entire living room carpet by hand? I got about half-way done this morning and am going to finish tonight. Then I am scrubbing the walls.

And just like DeeK said, my sense of smell has gotten much better. It was pretty good before. I could tell if a car has transmission or antifreeze problems by smell. I have a baker’s nose and can sense the fine line when cookies are just done without being burnt on the bottom. I can usually figure out the scents that make up someone’s perfume.

But having my sense of smell increase is not actually a good thing. I tried to eat an almost Cobb salad at lunch today (almost Cobb because there was no avocado). The smell of the blue cheese and green onions was overpowering. I love cheese, even blue cheese, but I fear that the intensity of the smells may put me off it forever. And then there is the bus, oh my god. I have been riding the bus for the last 3 years since I gave up my car and got a plush job a seven minute walk from my house. I got on the bus the other day and I thought I would be done in by the smells. It was an unholy combination of cheap cologne, dirty feet, vomit, urine and bad breath. It was like climbing into the body of a homeless giant. Needless to say, I’ve been walking a lot more.

There is one more weird thing. I am not having the smoking dreams yet, or waking up in the middle of the night dying for a cigarette. Instead I am craving weird food. Last night I woke up a 3am with an unquenchable desire for these chocolate covered cherries I get at Christmas every year from our friends in Atlanta.

I am sure you are all thrilled to bits to be reading the diary of a girl trying to quit smoking (insert knowing look of snark here). But just like any junkie it is still a minute by minute struggle not to think about smoking. I have been smoking everyday since I was 14, more than half my life. I read that the relapse rate for smokers is 95%, same as heroin junkies. Since this is at least my 10th time trying to quit, I am hopeful that I actually get to be in the 5% this time. Hell, I am in the 20% of Americans who have a passport, the 10% who read a book weekly, the 9% who are either Agnostic or Atheist. Since I like being in the minority, I think I belong in the 5%.

without smoking and nobody is dead yet. But the foggy-headed, blurry-vison thing has set in. I feel like my witty reparte has been muzzled.

How long does the blurry vison thing last? It’s like someone smudged my periferal vision. I’ve had some offers on substitutions for the oral fixation (fucking Freud, oral fixation my ass). But it isn’t the act of smoking that I miss. There’s really only been one moment where the habit of putting something in my mouth was the issue and it took about 2 seconds of rational thought to end that.

I wish nicotine patches came in mega doses, or I could keep the nicotine happiness without the death potential of smoking. If they have methadone for heroin junkies I don’t understand why I can’t just take a big ole nicotine pill.

The NY Times thinks the Dems aren’t just gonna take the House back, but could get the Senate as well. So why is Bush Co all smiles and surety? Where’s all the confidence coming from?

Maybe because it’s undesirable voter disenfranchisement time. You know, that special time of year when Republican hacks try to dissuade left leaning voters by sending them letters saying they will be deported if they try to vote.

This ain’t new folks. You know in the last election they told black voters that if they had credit issues or unpaid parking tickets they would be arrested if they tried to vote. They also put fliers up on cars in minority neighborhoods with the wrong election date on them, encouraging voters to show up a day after actual voting took place.

Nice, that’s democracy in action for ya.

A few weeks ago The Stranger ran an article on how you can fuck with Focus On The Family and James Dobson by ordering their books for free. And order I did. Saturday night, when it became apparent that none of us were watching the movie because we were to busy talking and drinking and chain-smoking on my last night of nicotine happiness, I pulled out the books and we all had a huge laugh, followed by several of the books getting chucked across the room so hard I thought the drywall might be damaged. But I think Satan was protecting my drywall cause it’s all good today. (wow- no nicotine equals run on sentences, who knew)

Since I am in the nicotineless mood to kick some ass- I am going to give you some choice quotes from one of the books.

Conversation just had between my little brother and me. This is proof that there is some genetic tweak where we love morbidly gross humor.

Me:Modesty is for people with nothing to brag about
Bro: Huh
Me: I’m trying to be Dorothy Parker so after I’m dead people will quote me
Bro: You want people to call you Dororthy parker after your dead
Me: No, you know, Dorothy Parker, writer from the 30’s, famous for saying things like “If you don’t have anything nice to say come sit next to me”. I want to be quoted like that after I’m dead, and I’m starting with “Modesty is for people with nothing to brag about”
Bro: We’ll put it on your tombstone
Me: That would be cool except that I’m getting cremated.
Bro: Then we’ll make your ashes spell it out
Me: Oh I’ve got an idea- you could get my ashes compressed into a diamond and have those people who write names on rice write it on the diamond.
Bro: Sure, that’s what we’ll do
Me: You’re totaly going to get me cremated at the local bar-b-que place and then dump me in a trash can, aren’t you?
Bro: No, it would be cool if you were a diamond, I could wear you in a ring and say “Hey you want to meet my sister- here she is”
Me: This is my sister, Bling Bling
Bro: Yeah, first name Bling, last name Bling
Me: You could tell them we have different dads and that’s why I’m a bling bling. But if I’m going to be a ring I need to be the most ghettofabulous giant creation ever.
Bro: Sure, we’ll make it like 19 carats,

Do you need more clues to win the giant galleta, I mean cookie?

Come on and let me know
Should I give you a clue
or Should I go

I have found myself thinking and doing things that would have been completely out of character for me 6 months ago. For example, I am actually considering marriage (to someone who is not Cary Grant, but is about as charming). Until recently I didn’t think I was the marrying kind, but maybe I grew up a little. It’s a bit strange (in a very good way) to be considering a relationship where marriage is the ultimate goal.

What’s even weirder is that I am considering the life of a stay at home suburban housewife. This is a much further stretch. I’m urban and except for 2 years after my son was born I’ve worked since I was 14. I’m hopeful that there is negotiating room on this one, like say a cool urban townhome instead of a sprawling suburban ranch and I stay in school. So basically, my life now only in a place with a sunnier climate and having to share decorating decisions with another grown-up.

There is a political side to this. Am I good little progressive feminist even if I enter into a very traditional style relationship? I know that if I stayed home all day I would be driven to chewing my hair and muttering strange things in corners, but I also don’t particularly care about making money. And then there is the issue of privilege. There is privilege in being able to marry while so many gays and lesbians are not. There is also privilege in having the choice to stay home and live in a family where one income is enough. Am I a complete sell-out for taking advantage of those privileges? Would it make me lose some credibility? I have always been independent and very capable of handling things on my own. If I had someone making things easier would I lose some of that toughness?

Oh yeah- and come this Sunday night I am quitting smoking. Totally out of character, but recently cigarettes have started to taste bad (you non-smokers won’t understand how they ever tasted good, but trust me). I have smoked more than half my life, I think it’s time to be done now. I just hope that I don’t kill anyone during nicotine withdrawal and that my friend Ruth was lying when she said that the foggy-headed stupidness you get when you quit doesn’t go away. I think quitting smoking may temporarily turn me into red-state personality, you know, stupid and mean. Wish me luck.

Shakespeare’s Sister calls this the best political ad ever. I have to agree.