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This is a question Your first cigarette

To be honest, inhaling the fumes from some burning leaves isn't the most natural thing in the world.
Tell us about the first time. Where, when, and who were you trying to show off to?

Or, if you've never tried a cigarette, tell us something interesting on the subject of smoking.

Personally, I've never ever smoked a cigarette. Lung damage from pneumonia put me off.

(, Wed 19 Mar 2008, 18:49)
Pages: Latest, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, ... 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, ... 1

This question is now closed.

The discovery of the Gravity Bush
aged 15, the first time I ever tried smoking we used cigars and joints, it was also the first time I'd ever touched alcohol.

This was the night I discovered the sneaky effects of the Gravity Bush. You can quite happily be walking along one minute, then it sucks you into it's strong gravitational field, you can't escape, no matter how hard you try.

Then, when somebody rescued me, I baptised the pavement with vomit, leaving a stain that's still there to this day.

*see also: Gravity Walls, Gravity Kerbs, Gravity Ditches, and worst of all, the Gravity Toilet.

*Edit* I'm confused by the whole new 'b3ta friends' thing, can someone please explain to me what the difference is between a fan and a friend?
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:23, 3 replies)
Late comer
considering my parents were 40 a dayers and I spent my childhood reeking of smoke (I knew no different) I actually didn't try it until I was 18.
An act of rebellion against my controlling ex, he hated smoking, tattoos and piercings. So day after we split I did all 3. Although I got stoned before I had a cigarette. It was a slippery slope. Run out of hash and just had a ciggie instead.
I gave up 6 months later when I got pregnant.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:22, Reply)
Child Abuse, Tobacco Style.
For long time readers of my stories, you'll be aware that my mum's method of raising me and my brother was, how should I say, unconventional. Despite this, the lessons learned from her days bringing us up from the gutter still hold true, no matter how nuts they might seem.

For example...

It was the day of my thirteenth birthday, and much was made of the fact that I was now a teenager and rapidly ascending (or descending, depending on how you look at it) into adulthood.

Now, my mum was apparently an advocate of some kind of aversion therapy, and had already put me and my brother off drinking booze until the 'right time' (as she saw it) by letting us drink Colt 45 lager at an uncle's birthday and letting us learn our own lesson when we ended up pissed and sick and generally pretty shitty afterwards. I was 10, he was 8 (and him being the cocky show off of the family, downed a whole can without realising the horror ahead). Thus, I didn't touch another drop until years after, scared to death about what might happen to me.

Anyway - my 13th birthday. Well, to celebrate, my mum had decided to let me have a party, and so we'd gone to the supermarket in the afternoon to get the usual junk food and fizzy drink for such proceedings. For some reason though, she seemed to have a determined look in her eyes as we sauntered through the aisles of ASDA.

In addition, in an unusual step, she stopped off at the cigarette counter, and bought 10 Marlboro lights and Clipper lighter.

Odd, I thought... my mum doesn't smoke, neither did my stepdad, so I was certainly bewildered. But, as I was to find out, that was just the beginning.

When we got home, I was directed to the sofa, my mum called for my little bro (11 at the time) to sit next to me, and then the aversion therapy began.

She told us both to pick out a cigarette from the packet, light it, and smoke it. Caught in two minds about what was about to happen, I just went for it.

Despite being surprisingly adept with lighting the fag, I didn't know how to actually smoke it, and it just sort of hung there, between my lips. I looked at my brother - who was welling up at this point, and he gave me this kind of 'WTF?' look that suggested he was suffering the same feelings as me on this matter.

When my mum said "right, inhale!" - I finally got it.

Now, you've all had that first cigarette, right? The odd feeling of smoke hitting the back of your throat, accidentally breathing out through your nose for the first time and it stinging? Eyes watering as you choke on that first nicotine infused puff?

I experienced all that and more - I was nauseous, half crying, wondering why my mum would put me through this... my brother puked on the spot, unable to overcome the same feelings... it was all very surreal and if anyone from social services had been walking past, well, the rest of my upbringing would have been very, very different.

Anyway, once my mum had got us tearful, vomiting and bright red from all the choking, she took the cigarettes off us, stubbed them out, and gave us this stern warning...


Now, this might sound very wussy (she's only 5'2 and there's more meat on a pencil), but that was it for us. There was no fucking way I'd be able to even hold a John Player Special, never mind smoke one.

The next time I had a cig was 7 years later, and even that induced some kind of Norman Bates-style 'MOTHER, NO!' moment in me, still traumatised by the horrible event on the sofa, all that time ago.

I love my mum, she's made me and my brother the educated, independent lads we are, but fuck me if she didn't make us work for it.

Length? About a couple of inches, give or take a bit of ash.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:20, Reply)
This has nothing to do with smoking.....
But when I first moved out of my parent's house and into my own flat, it was great, I could have a wank pretty much whenever I wanted.

I had an office towards the back of the place, that had a door going onto the garden.

I was in the throws of passion when suddenly I see a shaddow in the window of the door and the door begins to turn. Shit shit shit, someone's breaking in, and i've left the door unlocked. So I slam it back on the person and there is a little tug of war* and a lot of screaming...after what seemed like an age but was probaly only about 20 seconds, I jump back, pick up a golf club and turn around back towards the door, ready begin to swing it over my head.

I then turn around to see about 10 of my mates (of both sexes, including the girl I had secretly fancied for over a year), bursting out laughing.... and I'm standing there bottom-less, holding a golf club ready to take a swing, with my withered cock (by that point, I had totaly lost it) and some MILF on my computer.

We then had an impromptu BBQ where someone brought a load of cocktail saussages.

* for lack of a better expression.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:13, 9 replies)
I have a vague feeling...
...that the very first thing I smoked was a breadstick at a party once. A long long time ago.

As I recall it actually worked rather well as a cigarette substitute but for god's sake don't try it; it's minging.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:11, 1 reply)
Is very bad for the head and for the body, innit.

I first smoked on the school minibus as a callow 15-year old i puffed and puffed and didnt inhale (honest). I couldnt understand the fuss to be honest, other than the dry mouth sensation that it provided.

My first inhalation was about a week later in the woods behind the house; i managed to throw up having inhaled and tried to hold it down for as long as possible, giving me a feeling of lightheadedness and general nauseousness leading to my vomitting.

Spliffed up when I was 19 at uni. Didn't do anything for me the first time and again didn't see what the fuss was all about.

Second spliff led to a mild psychosis involving paranoia and unwrapping some already pretty badly wrapped mentalism. Hmm.

So don't smoke either now, in fact, if someone asks if I mind if they smoke my stock answer has become "smoke? burst into flames if you want!"
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:02, Reply)
CHCB reminded me
Of the first time I mixed lots of alcohol with weed...

When I was working in a bar in north London, there was a South African guy there called Nic, who managed to get himself some rather stupendously strong weed. We finished work one night, had a few beers, and then went back to my house to sit in the garden smoking.

After half a joint, I started to get seriously paranoid. There was a bush just behind Chris sitting opposite me, whose foliage (to my addled brain) looked like it was made up of many multi-fingered hands that happened to look like leaves. If I took my concentration off the bush, I had an overwhelming feeling that it was creeping towards Chris, getting ready to reach out and rip his head off.
Not good.

If I looked directly at it though, it will have quickly shuffled back to its original place, looking all noncholant and innocently plant-like. But I knew its murderous intentions. Oh yes. And the only way to stop it murdering my friends and myself and going on a leafy rampage was to stare at it non-stop for 3 hours. At first they were worried about me, but because I was still breathing and blinking, my mates just left me to it. Besides, they were getting rather concerned themselves about the gently rippling paving stones we were sitting on, and were getting worried that we were going to drown in a sea of crazy paving.

That was the first time that I learnt the vital life lesson of not getting very drunk and then smoking extremely strong weed.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:50, 3 replies)
Peer Pressure
When I was around 12 years old my parents went away on holiday. They would always bring cartons of fags home with them for my uncle. Sneakily i took one of the cartons and hid it in my room.

Later in the day i decided to go down the park where i met one of my new friends (new being about 2 weeks). Cooly i produced a packet of cigarettes and offered her one. Sat on the swings we tried to clumsily light our first drags. It took a good 5mins but after the first puff my new friend promptly puked up all over the floor.

Me, i loved it and had the whole thing. Her sitting next to me trying to look as cool as me. I decided to take her home as she looked incredibly peaky and very green.

At her front door we rang the bell and waited. The door opened and there was a HUGE brute of a pikey father, with tattoos everywhere. My mate promptly started:

"Dad, this is...."

And promptly spewed again all over her father.

There was nothing else for it, I.. just.. ran.

Incidentally after a phone call to my parents, i was banned from seeing this girl again. Funny that!

I'm still puffing away to this day.

On another subject:

One afternoon later in my life i decided to try some of that "legal" weed that i'd bought off the internet. My mate and I had a whole spliff each and felt nothing. Bored for something else to do we decided to get the bus down to the cinema. Getting on bus: no problem, getting off bus: slightly woozy....

We then went to see The Emperors New Groove with incredible sized pots of popcorn. I've never giggled so hard in my life!
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:35, 1 reply)
As is my prerogative, I will go off on a tangent.

I used to smoke cigars. A lot. It's tragic and obscene, but I did.

The worst part was that I used to do it as a student - it's a habit I picked up from a guy I did my placement with and it stuck with me for about a year.

A 19 year old smoking a cigar is **NOT** a good look, nor is it big or clever.

As the cigarette story, I'd only do it drunk when I though "Heyyyyy, how good do I look"...

Not very - I looked a prick.

I stopped abruptly one day when I was hammered in "O'Hagans" in Sheffield (sadly no longer there) when I was with friends who were tolerating my cigar. I was full of "Boston" beer and feeling good and "looking good" (Eye roll).

I was puffing away, like you do, and it was then and there that I chose to take a big drag down into my lungs.

And nearly died.

The lung burning sensation. The eye popping. The difficulty breathing. These were all ugly, excruciating and painful to me.

Hilarious to my friends, of course, who revelled in my pain and discomfort.

I'm sure you can picture a wide eyed, freaked out JTW clammering for air and clutching my chest.

I didn't feel good the next day and struggled to be able to talk all day as my throat was half closed and painful.

Did I get any sympathy? Uh. No. Meh.

I only smoked a cigar once after that about 5 years later while sat in a big old chair drinking port and brandy....

Felt like crap the next morning then too....
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:30, Reply)
never smoked
for two very real, horrible experiences.

firstly, when i was about 7, my dad let me have a drag on his cigar. i promptly passed out and threw up when i came round. all i remember is staring at the underneath of the table and wondering why i was covered in stinking puke. my mother was still mad at him about 3 years later for that spectacular father of the year stunt.

secondly, when i was about 9, my grandmother developed an itchy pain in her toe. she used to like smoking and sitting curled up on the floor to read by her fireplace. turns out this is not so good for the circulation, as what the doctor diagnosed as athlete's foot turned out to be gangrene. her blackened toe was amputated and i was nearly sick again when i had to help her put her shoes on some time after the op.

believe me. there is nothing like forcing brown patent granny shoes onto an old lady's stumpy 4 toed foot to make an imaginative, hyperactive, overmelodramatic 9 year old hate smoking for life...

having said that, i do like men smoking cigars despite my own experience. very very horny!
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:30, 6 replies)
why I don't smoke joints anymore:
Because it took me a couple of years to work out that other people who are stoned aren't actually tripping their asses off the way I am.

Because lying in the corner thinking that the chair wants to eat you is not fun.

Because the resulting paranoia means I can't quite walk down the street as I'm convinced every single person out there is watching me intently.

Because - and this is important - when you're not under the influence of anything, I'm pretty sure that carpets should not talk.

I'm saving the details for the "my first psychotic episode" QOTW.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:29, 2 replies)
Thought my head was going to explode
My first ever fag was when I was at high school.

A friend got me to try it. He gave me one from his pack right before we left school for the day. I kept it cupped in my hand so no teachers would see it.

We went out the back entrance and, once we were far enough away from the school, he gave me his lighter.

I lit up, took my first ever toke, and immediately felt ill. I had to sit down on someone's wall, as I would have fallen over if I hadn't, and I dropped the lit ciggy in the plastic bag that had my P.E kit in. Took ages to get it out.

I think I still smoked the rest of it though.

I took up smoking for a while after that, but never really got addicted for some reason.

Gave up two years later, only smoked once since then, felt really sick afterwards. I was in a nightclub with my cousin.

We ended up leaving early due to me feeling like crap after the fag. Haven't smoked ever again, and don't intend to either.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:24, Reply)
I'm a drunk smoker - Well, sortof.

At university I used to be able to drink plenty and then light up and smoke away. The next morning, I would be fine and not wanting a sober smoke.

However, as the years have gone on, my smoking tolerance has gone down - I still don't want one sober though although I do get the occasional craving...

My most recent experience, however, was not very nice...

I was pretty full of red wine and I decided, in my ifinite wisdom, to have a smoke so I bummed one and lit up. Took a big drag. Ahhhh, nice....


I got a nicotine rush which made my head swim, my body sway and my eyes go all crossed - I put my hand on **that** post to steady myself, except the post had mysteriously vanished and there was just air - I fell forwards and aimed for **that** bench there, which lept out of my way - my senses failed at this point and my brain slowed time down and decided that there was going to be pain.

And I was duly rewarded as falling head met solid bench (which had put itself back in my way) - fortunately I was wearing my "shield of beer" and didn't feel pain.

As I lay there I was faintly aware of a rancid smell - the cigarette, tauntingly, was right by my face - just **there**.

As I lay there, face down on the pavement, breathing in the smoke, I decided that perhaps, just perhaps, smoking wasn't for me...
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:22, 4 replies)
Cigarettes are disgusting
All than filthy smoke, narrowing your arteries, filling your lungs with tar and drastically shortening your lifespan, all the while ensuring you pay the government for the privilege. If you smoke them, you're a total moron.

That's why I totally refuse to smoke anything other than crack and heroin. Woo!

If they're not for puffs, why are they called fags?
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:19, Reply)
Council Estate Initiation
Aged 7, my best friend Brian (who was a year younger had nicked a Players Weight from his mum. She always kept a packet of 10 behind the taps in the kitchen. These were strong bastards, untipped and the tobacco looked black to my inexperienced eyes. We went behind the newly built garages & perched on the edge of the concrete so as to avoid the "stingers". Brian, who had done this before, eventually got the ciggy lit and drew on it, letting smoke drift out of his mouth, with just a small cough. It made him look really big and clever. He handed it to me and croaked that I should have a puff. I drew some smoke into my mouth and blew it out in a long stream [all the while we were doing this we were flapping our arms to try to hide the smoke, in case someone's Mum came by]. Brian said "You're bumsucking" I drew in more smoke, this time sending it out through my nostrils. "You're bumsucking, take it down" I breathed smoke in, thinking I'll get bronchitis and then my Dad will find out. At this point I started coughing and finding it difficult to stop, I tried to breath clean air but all round was smoke. Brian, who had taken the fag off me was trying to show me how to smoke properly. Eventually he began coughing too and there were clouds of smoke everywhere. At this point we struggled out from behind the garages coughing our lungs up, getting stung all over on the way. Luckily there were no grown ups around but it must have looked funny two "little men" coughing their lungs up, emerging from hiding followed by clouds of smoke. I never touched Players Weights again. When I started proper "full time" smoking aged 14, I began on menthol ones, which made me throw up. Then went onto No.10s which were cheap and nasty ("10s for Men"). So I never learnt really.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 16:18, Reply)
disgruntled from Tunbridge Wanks
It's nearly 4pm - an anniversary of sorts - and I am rather unaroused by the lack of mention of our groundbreaking, zeitgeisty, group self-abuse session in the newsletter. This has got bugger all to do with smoking, although I heard about a lot of burning tips, if that helps.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:58, 13 replies)
While I was being plagued by Limpetgirl
from the Stalked QOTW, she would often drag me needlessly into town and insist we spent money we didn't have on booze.

This would usually mean sitting in one of my favourite pubs, her getting wasted on a half of Caffrey's before announcing in her best stage whisper "FUCKINGHELL I NEED A FAG!". Like many people, Limpetgirl's nicotine cravings only took hold when she was drunk, and so she would proceed to go round the entire pub asking goths and old men and chavs to bum her a fag, acting like the cutesy little girl she saw herself as (the reality is a fifteen stone dwarf with a crinkly face and the most psychotic smile I've ever seen).

By the by she insisted I try it too, and I did, for that night. On another occasion when she'd really irritated me, she'd been plaguing me at home for a change and just happened to have left 10 Bensons at mine.

I smoked that week because I knew she'd miss them.

The first time I smoked skunk was with some of my friends from uni after a mad evening of karaoke. Having sensibly already ordered kebabs, we spent the next half an hour batting a pink balloon about, watching Salad Fingers (a really bad idea when you're stoned, I must say) and playing with Buffy's Swearing Keyboard ("minge" was particularly funny).

All I remember, really, is loving everyone in the world, but they all HATED me and were all slagging me off behind my back. It was like Stalker Boy in joint form. Oh, and being ravenously hungry and giggling a lot.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:42, Reply)
Chain, chain, chain
I remember that I first started smoking when I was 15 whilst walking home from a party. Decided to chain-smoke the whole hour walk home, I do remember talking to someone on my little cancer mission and I think his name was Pilchard Orange, could be wrong though - I was very, very drunk.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:35, Reply)
I suppose someone
Is going to tell a story about how, when they were writing their sig that the keyboard went all mad and starting putting swearwords in.

And it was all about their first 'sig-tourettes' experience

(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:34, 2 replies)
My first 'smoke'
I tried cigs as a yout' but always coughed my ringpiece out whenever I inhaled properly, so never really got into them.

Then, when I reached the turbulent yet tender age of 14, we had some "Drugs education" at school.

Based on their highly effective pitch, I decided drugs were obviously the life for me(well done school), but being of the weakly built variety, I saw no point in spending my paper round money on gear only to cough it about the place.

So I set about a campaign of lung toughening. This involved smoking snouts, 2 a day, on the way to and from school until I was able to smoke a whole grot with no coughage. After 2 weeks of this I was hardened and ready for battle.

I then bought my very first ever 8th of solid, took it to the local met police sports ground (?!) and got off my gourd.

Good Times :)

Length? King L every time boyeee
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:32, 1 reply)
Oh, God help me
It was Han Solo who first enticed me to try smoking the stuff, but, since the ban, I'm forced to chew 'baccy.

For which I apologise profusely.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:28, 6 replies)
Peer Pressure
I smoked for one summer when I was 15 only because "Everybody else was doing it" - not much of a reason as excuses go I know.

I remember buying a packet of ten B&H and feeling incredibly grown up for doing so.

My best mate Paul used to swipe Carrolls (Irish brand) from his mother when we were short of funds but they were like smoking cardboard.

I never really liked smoking and rarely inhaled properly, preferring to keep the smoke in my mouth before blowing it out again.

We used to chew on Leylandii leaves before heading home in an attempt to hide the smell of smoke from our breath.

I can't remember quitting but I just sort of stopped and never took up smoking again - apart from mixing tobacco in joints that is.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:16, Reply)
Lung Fact
Apparently, if the human lungs were opened up then they would cover the size of a tennis court...
Not sure how true this is but it came from a solicitor I know
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:08, 11 replies)
I've just worked out
I have smoked in excess of 40,000 cigarettes in my life.

I'm going for another one now.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:06, Reply)
short & sweet
Classmate: "Have a Drag"
Me, 13: (puff) "WTF?"
That was it - never been tempted since. Not even when it came to smoking other stuff. I used to tell people "if I tried smoking that, my lungs would emigrate", but I don't bother any more.

PS: Did try Snuff, though, when some other kids brought it to school. This was the fine powdered stuff that you inhale, so I did. In hay fever season. My pancreas hasn't been the same since I nearly sneezed it up.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 15:04, Reply)
My First Smoke, Pt. 3
This is my third (probably final) story of smoking, and the one I most fondly remember, although it still feels a little stupid, nevertheless.

WARNING, long fucker ahead!

I will point out that I have smoked socially for the past few years (raising the ire of both full-blooded smokers and non-smokers alike, I'm sure), but now I plan to give up permanently.

It's an uncomfortable feeling when you realise that you can't move as quickly as you used to, you can't run for as long as you used to, and you can't do many things that a normal, healthy person could do without running out of breath sooner than you expect to.

I have no idea how it feels to smoke 10-20 plus cigarettes a day, and that worries me; if I feel unhealthy, how the hell do they feel? I have always felt that my late teenage, and early twenties years were relatively throw-away, and for having fun (Not completely, I do have a good degree, and I'm half way towards getting my PhD as we speak, so I haven't completely thrown them away!). I have always felt that smoking was horrible, yet I do it regardless, even though I find the taste disgusting, the experience awkward, and the smell unbearable. I have never understood why I started. There was no peer pressure. I just 'started'. Sorry to ramble on, but for those who feel the same way as I do, we can still find a way out.

Right, now on to the story!

This one is a little different, as it is not about cigarettes per se, more the 'Rastafarian Woodbine', but it's a smoking story, so leave me alone!

Following on from my last experience with cigarettes in Pt. 2, I once again went out to "Star/Electric Head" with my new friends, first stopping off at 'Strawb's' (the general nickname for a bar called "Strawberry Fields", those who go out in Leeds a bit will probably know of it).

This time there was something new in store. Round the back of strawbs, where all the emos/moshers/goths (including metal-lovers such as myself) gathered, F and K had brought along a joint, which I thought would have a nice mild effect, not learning from my previous experience, of course!.

They informed me that it was something called "Skunk", and it would probably be too strong for me, as I hadn't smoked a joint before this point. I told them where to go, obviously/foolishly, as I 'knew' I could handle it.

I took a nice big puff of the green stuff, not knowing what wonders it held for me... :\

After the joint was consumed between us, all was well for about 2 minutes until I started to feel sick.

Really sick.

Now this is the point where I expect anyone who has experienced weed before to say "Oh, just another whitey story", but you would be wrong.

I doubled over, expecting a Xenomorph to launch from my chest, gracefully/messily murdering all the drunken metalheads surrounding me.

F said "Rod, stand up or you'll be sick!". I took his advice, I wish I hadn't.

I stood up and then.. nothing.

All was black.

I heard the distant cry of "K, I think we just killed Rod!"

I felt like I had slept for a year.

Then my eyes opened, to see a smiling F standing over me.


"Wake up, you silly fucker!"

It turns out that as soon as I stood up, my whole body gave way beneath me, and I slammed into the floor. What felt like a year was actually about 15 seconds, and I felt that all was fine, so I got up, feeling a little confused, but okay.

Then I was running.


I wasn't running, I was falling.


I stumbled, head first into a wall.

Now not only was I stoned, but I was also cracking my head against a wall. BAD IDEA.

I loosely wobbled over to a low wall where I curled up cradling my head.

I fell asleep. Ten years this time (15 minutes). I awoke, remembering something about a girl talking about her first sexual experience, and offering my freshly woken self some boobs to feel. Uhhhh.. okay!

The experience left me with a slightly sore head for a few days, and, for some reason, an overwhelmingly large need to piss. The stoned effect was gone however, and I had to console myself with getting drunk instead.

I did have trouble getting to sleep that night, however, as I was still convinced that I had slept for an extremely long time!

Many apologies for my length (and a big cookie from me if you took the whole thing!), I think I can see some tearing, let me get some vaseline.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:46, 3 replies)
Thank you, Dad!
My dad was an ardent smoker from the age of 12 until his death at 80. He grew up in era when smoking was not considered unhealthy; rather, it was glamorous and sophisticated. He maintained that belief throughout his life. Of course, he saw nothing wrong with giving me my first cigarette when I was in 5th grade (for you non-Americans, that means I would've been 10 years old). Gave me my first beer around the same age, too. I consumed both regularly until I was a poor college student, couldn't afford to buy either, and my friends got sick of me mooching off of them. Clearly, dad wouldn't have won any parenting awards, but I turned out fairly well, I don't drink or smoke, and I appear to have suffered only minimal brain and lung damage.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:41, Reply)
What can possibly have driven the first person ever to inhale the fumes of burning tobacco..?

I would never have thought of it myself.
(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:40, 11 replies)
Curse You Wind!
A friend at work told me how her son was once walking home from a beery night out in town. It's about a three mile trek home but due to the crapness of local taxis it wasn't unusual for him to have to do it. So its after midnight , he's about half way through his journey and he's very drunkenly staggering down the side of a dual carriageway when he decides he wants a cigarette. Unfortunately the wind is quite strong that night and keeps blowing his lighter out. He turns his back to the wind, shields himself with his coat and finally gets his cigarette going. Whereupon he's so drunk he resumes walking, forgetting he's turned 180 degrees to light his smoke, and makes it all the way back into town before he realises.

(, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:39, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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