Profile for Yank:
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- a member for 16 years, 5 months and 28 days
- has posted 3 messages on the main board
- has posted 0 messages on the talk board
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- has posted 2 stories and 1 replies on question of the week
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» Addicted
Thanks, kid!
I started smoking to impress a cute girl back in the mid-80s. Just a smoke or two in the evenings, and next thing I know I was a broke, three-pack-a-day smoker.
What finally made me kick the habit was an event in April 1995. The cute girl, now known as Mrs. Yank, came from the doctor's office, said, "I'm pregnant." and handed me her pack. I quit a few months later, and I owe my daughter a big thanks.
I'd tried a dozen or more times to quit in the past. I tried electronic rationing gizmos, Cancer Society programs, setting a "quit date," eating sunflower seeds, smoking less, switching brands... Finally, I tried the gimmick of going cold turkey and still carrying around an open pack of cigarettes. I had to convince myself that I could have the forbidden cigarettes whenever I wanted, I just didn't want one.
After a month or so I was out drinking with friends. I caved in and had one. It scorched my throat, tasted like hell and about made me pass out. The magic was gone. I was an ex-smoker and have been for the last 13 years.
(Thu 18th Dec 2008, 21:28, More)
Thanks, kid!
I started smoking to impress a cute girl back in the mid-80s. Just a smoke or two in the evenings, and next thing I know I was a broke, three-pack-a-day smoker.
What finally made me kick the habit was an event in April 1995. The cute girl, now known as Mrs. Yank, came from the doctor's office, said, "I'm pregnant." and handed me her pack. I quit a few months later, and I owe my daughter a big thanks.
I'd tried a dozen or more times to quit in the past. I tried electronic rationing gizmos, Cancer Society programs, setting a "quit date," eating sunflower seeds, smoking less, switching brands... Finally, I tried the gimmick of going cold turkey and still carrying around an open pack of cigarettes. I had to convince myself that I could have the forbidden cigarettes whenever I wanted, I just didn't want one.
After a month or so I was out drinking with friends. I caved in and had one. It scorched my throat, tasted like hell and about made me pass out. The magic was gone. I was an ex-smoker and have been for the last 13 years.
(Thu 18th Dec 2008, 21:28, More)
» Karma
Wedding Dances
I used to play in a band for wedding dances -- mostly oldies and country to keep the elderly relatives doing the polka and headache-free 'til 10 p.m.. The idea was to play what would keep the person signing the check happy.
Wherever we played, there was always one 20-something guy that hassled the band all night "Play Freebird!" and "AC/Fekkin'DC!!" Or they'd launch into a long conversation about "Whassh weh shoulbbd plarry" in the middle of a song -- all the while, fumbling a drink over electronics that cost more than their 9 years of college loans.
The party ended and everyone went somewhere else. We finished tearing down to an empty room.
I stopped by the can on the way out and there was our music critic. He was sleeping it off under the urinals, covered with his own puke and quite a few people's piss.
And no, I didn't piss on him -- or offer to help. I figured that he and I and the universe were "even" at that point.
Length: Not enough to reach the urinal from the floor.
(Tue 26th Feb 2008, 17:48, More)
Wedding Dances
I used to play in a band for wedding dances -- mostly oldies and country to keep the elderly relatives doing the polka and headache-free 'til 10 p.m.. The idea was to play what would keep the person signing the check happy.
Wherever we played, there was always one 20-something guy that hassled the band all night "Play Freebird!" and "AC/Fekkin'DC!!" Or they'd launch into a long conversation about "Whassh weh shoulbbd plarry" in the middle of a song -- all the while, fumbling a drink over electronics that cost more than their 9 years of college loans.
The party ended and everyone went somewhere else. We finished tearing down to an empty room.
I stopped by the can on the way out and there was our music critic. He was sleeping it off under the urinals, covered with his own puke and quite a few people's piss.
And no, I didn't piss on him -- or offer to help. I figured that he and I and the universe were "even" at that point.
Length: Not enough to reach the urinal from the floor.
(Tue 26th Feb 2008, 17:48, More)