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)
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)
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Irresponsible parenting?
When I was a wee young kola, as many girls are, I was a pure daddy’s girl, I wanted to grow up to be just like him. (didn’t help my granddad regailled me with stories beginning “when I was a little girl…” leaving me a gender complex which arguable lasts to this day) and as many fathers do, my daddy smoked. Now cigarettes don’t taste nice, not to a four year olds pallet... at least that’s what my mother was banking on… and after a few attempts of trying to steal a puff. As subtly as a small child can master… my parent’s pretended to not see.
A clever trick I give you. I coughed and spat and I no longer wanted to smoke like daddy…
Fast-forward to some sort of celebratory event, a Christmas, or a paddy’s day or a new year, something of the sort. And the cigars come out. Again, as any self respecting inquisitive child would do… I wanted one.
Pleased with the success of their plan with the fags they repeated their tactics,
And I had a wee puff…
No coughing, no bad taste. I loved it.
Some weird looks were sent across the room with my dad in fits of hysterics, my mother trying to wrestle a cigar off me and myself quiet adamant that they said I could have one and I wasn’t giving it back
( , Tue 25 Mar 2008, 17:05, Reply)
When I was a wee young kola, as many girls are, I was a pure daddy’s girl, I wanted to grow up to be just like him. (didn’t help my granddad regailled me with stories beginning “when I was a little girl…” leaving me a gender complex which arguable lasts to this day) and as many fathers do, my daddy smoked. Now cigarettes don’t taste nice, not to a four year olds pallet... at least that’s what my mother was banking on… and after a few attempts of trying to steal a puff. As subtly as a small child can master… my parent’s pretended to not see.
A clever trick I give you. I coughed and spat and I no longer wanted to smoke like daddy…
Fast-forward to some sort of celebratory event, a Christmas, or a paddy’s day or a new year, something of the sort. And the cigars come out. Again, as any self respecting inquisitive child would do… I wanted one.
Pleased with the success of their plan with the fags they repeated their tactics,
And I had a wee puff…
No coughing, no bad taste. I loved it.
Some weird looks were sent across the room with my dad in fits of hysterics, my mother trying to wrestle a cigar off me and myself quiet adamant that they said I could have one and I wasn’t giving it back
( , Tue 25 Mar 2008, 17:05, Reply)
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