Smoking, Kashi and Blonds
People who quit smoking are annoying. They are really proud and loud. They talk incessantly about their great “feat”, which nobody else gives a shit about. They are like somebody who just redpointed their first 5.8 trad line. They sit they and tell you every move, every piece of gear and it never crosses their mind that nobody else cares. We all pretend to care. We all congratulate them. It’s like conversion stories Christians have about getting “saved.” Every Christian has one. None of them are interesting.
Anyway, that’s just the long way of saying that I’m about to annoy the hell out of you with something you don’t care about.
A couple months ago I was really bored and I, along with half of humanity, posted a note on facebook called “25 things about me,” which is a list of 25 completely boring facts about yourself which you think the entire world ought to be aware of but which are actually of no interest to anybody. Number 2 on my list was “sometimes I think I’m too honest.”
When I originally wrote that I meant it along the lines of “I should lie about my income on adultfriendfinder.com to get laid.” But that point is actually proving to be a lot more powerful than I first imagined. This last Saturday, I went to this River Days thing in downtown Boulder. This is a very strange event that is like the retarded bastard child of a redneck county fair and a yuppie’s wet dream about organic fields of gluten free rice cakes. I had just polished off a funnel cake and was licking the grease and powdered sugar of my fingers when I was informed that the Kashi tent was giving away free shit—food, little canvas bags, and a Feel Good About Yourself daypass. Normally, I would never enter the Kashi tent. It’s not that I don’t like organic healthy food. I do, kinda. Partly I have a hard time giving a shit. Mostly, I’m too poor to afford it, so I pretend I hate it.
Anyway. The reason I went in their was because I was still hungry and they were giving away free food AND they were giving away these little cloth shopping bags like the ones that people in at the Spot or Rifle use to carry around their snacks. It’s a subtle mark if hipness. I wanted one of those bags. In order to get that bag, you first had to go around to all these little booths where they indoctrinated you about the virtues of unbleached whole grain flower, the evil of genetically engineer food and a thousand other reasons you should spend 5 times as much for a box of cereal.
I didn’t really care. I wanted that bag.
The last hurdle before my little bag was this booth where you had fill out a questionnaire asking if you would make an effort to be healthier this week through eating better, healthier activities or other shit I can’t recall.
Normally, I would have checked the “NO” box. But the attendant was this chick who was HOT. I mean really hot. The kind of hot that turns most guys into cavemen retards who blather like a 4 month old with down syndrome. I was about to check the “NO” box, but I could feel her judging eyes piercing the top of my head. To me, that stare said “If you check that box, if after all this evangelizing you still remain unsaved from your unhealthy ways, I will not sleep with you.” To anybody else, that stare was one of utter boredom and she wasn’t going to sleep with me anyway. I was too blind to see that and some idiotic part of my brain seemed to think that if I promised to stuff my mouth with Kashi, this girl would be so impressed overcome with gratitude that she would immediately stuff her mouth with me.
The part of my brain that says “do whatever you can to sleep with anything blond and a C cup or larger” kicked in and I promised Kashi that I would become a healthier person. Unfortunately, I’m too broke to buy better food. I’m too lazy to start running. And I’m honest to a fault. Thus, unable to break my promise to Kashi and the big busted blond I’ll never see again, I quit smoking.