So I decided to quit smoking a few weeks back although I soon discovered that when I was drinking, I was bumming cigs left and right, so while "Sober Amber" was doing her darndest to live nicotine free, "Drunk Amber" was doing her best to thwart "Sober Amber"'s plans... Per usual. Remember that vow of celibacy? That lasted about 4 days after I made it and the guy I fucked up my year long "social experiment" with ended up promptly relegating me to the "friend zone"! Worth it? Well, uh, yeah, actually, it was but that's beside the point.
After realizing my drunk self's smoking habits, I decided to throw myself in, haphazardly and partially unwilling, to the cause of "no more smoking". If I were to give it a catchy campaign name, it'd probably be "Amber's Smokin' Hot! But Not Smokin' Cigs! 2010".
Now I'm five days without a cig, having smoked a few (or a few packs, probably) when I was in Iowa and Illinois because, to quote that Jeff Tweedy scamp, when you're back in your old neighborhood, the cigarettes taste so good. And also because there was a keg of Spotted Cow. And I was in a barn seeing favorite band of 2009 Dawes and favorite band of my 17 to 20 year old self The Walkmen! How cool is that shit?! Good times.
These days, however, nothing's good. My head? That constantly hurts. My back? Achey. Legs? Yeah, them too. My hands are shaky, my forehead's clammy and sweaty. I can't concentrate and I can't sleep. I have no energy. I'm constantly crabby. All I want to do is drink beer and sit outside and - You guessed it! Smoke cigarettes! But two of those three things I've been abstaining from as of late and sadly, sitting outside hasn't been one of them. But at least I have this to orchestrate the whole ordeal:
Andrew Jackson Jihad - Still Smokin'
Art via Natalie Dee this time 'round.