How rich! It's more than 2 weeks after my first post and I'm only writing now. In case you're wondering why I've waited so long, it's because the last 15 day HAVE BEEN A LIVING HELL! Seriously. I talked to my Chantix rep about it* and felt that my withdrawal symptoms were atypically over-the-top. I agreee, but still.
I haven't produced much except for the already infamous Chantix dreams. Mine are mstly tedious, but this one gave me a laff:
Steve and I are part of a group of people being paraded down a street in Nazi Germany. Our captors are total movie Nazis in Gothic SS uniforms, tossing these brass bombs hither and yon like they're candlepin bowling among the POW's. It's stressful. I find an old pack of Dunhill menthols in my coat pocket. There's one cigarette left. Steve and I share it as we walk, but there's no satisfaction in it: no taste, no smell, no burn of the draw as the smoke enters the throat. Steve and I know this is our last smoke, and we glare at each other, thinking:
Fucking Nazis!
*boy, is she twitchy
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