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Well, I will.
Not the blog, silly. I can’t see ever quitting that. I’m talking about one of my few remaining vices.
Cigarettes.
Cigarettes have owned my ass for a while now…um, 14 years? And that’s really strange because (1) I didn’t start smoking until I was in my 20s and (2) I HATED cigarette smoke all throughout my childhood.
My parents both smoked like chimneys when I was a kid. This was before the term “secondhand smoke” came to be coined, before anyone knew that such a thing was harmful to anyone. I mean, sure there was a nagging suspicion that SMOKING caused cancer (not that the tobacco companies would admit to it, mind you). But being AROUND smoke? Nah.
But I hated it. Everything in my house reeked of cigarette smoke. The furniture, the curtains, all of my clothes, my hair, the WALLS even. And my parents weren’t the type that rolled the car windows down when they were smoking, either. I’m not bitching…that was the culture of the time. Courtesy and smoking just weren’t seen as compatible, really.
People still smoked in restaurants and even though there was a non-smoking section in some eateries, the smoke from the SMOKING section always wafted over. Smoke knows no boundaries.
People still smoked in airplanes! And again, there were smoking and non-smoking sections. But guess how successful that shit was? Yeah, you’re in a confined environment for hours. Rows 1-15, no smoking. Rows 16-32, smoking. And if you’re in row 15, guess what? You certainly couldn’t tell you were in a no smoking section. It was moronic. But hey, there was also a time when we felt slavery was not such a bad idea. Humans, we’re really not the brightest of God’s creatures.
Growing up, I had asthma so it really sucked having smoking parents. My sister had it, too, even worse than I did. Never connected the dots that cigarette smoke might make the asthma worse.
So if I went all through childhood and into adulthood without picking up a cigarette, you ask, then why the fuck did I ever start to begin with? That’s a very good question.
And the answer is the same as it is for every smoker on the planet.
Because I’m an idiot.
The best way to quit smoking is never to start. And yet, I did start. And I blame it on my ex-girlfriend in Dallas. Because, you know, it couldn’t have been my fault. No sir.
Back then I was getting high on a regular basis. I smoked copious amounts of weed. And I was also doing crystal meth. (SEE: I’m an idiot, above.)
My girlfriend smoked cigarettes. So we’re sitting in a friend’s house one night, getting high and playing Dr. Mario on the Super Nintendo (still one of my favorite all-time video games) and she lights up a smoke.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked her.
“Sure.”
“What do you get out of smoking cigarettes? I just don’t understand it. They stink, they make your breath stink…what’s the point?”
And she said the magic words - possibly the only words - that would make me start smoking. “They accentuate the high from the marijuana.”
It wasn’t 15 seconds that passed before I said, “Can I try one?”
And WOW! What a buzz I got! Knocked me on my freaking ass. And I was hooked.
Soon I was buying my own packs and enjoying the slight buzz I still got, even when I wasn’t stoned. That buzz, though? Doesn’t last. But somehow the addiction does.
I’ve quit several times over the years. Sometimes for six months, sometimes for a couple of years. When my mom came to Dallas to help me move to Florida, I was stressed to the fucking max. Money problems to the nth degree, stress over the packing and moving, stress over leaving all of my friends behind, you name it. So I snuck a few smokes out of her purse when she slept at night. Damn, that shit was good.
And again I was hooked.
It’s been 4-1/2 years now since my stepfather died. Yeah, he smoked, too. In fact, my parents and stepparents all still smoked until fairly recently. I digress. My stepfather died a slow and painful death. Cancer. I was with him a lot in his final months, a good portion of which were spent in the very room I’m writing this from…in a hospital bed in the living room. In fact, he died in this room.
It took another year for my mom and I to say, “That’s enough.” We both went to a hypnotist to quit. But before we did that, we cleaned the whole house, we vacuumed, we Febreezed the SHIT out of everything…furniture, carpets, walls…all of it. And we did the same in our cars. THEN we went to the hypnotist.
It worked for me, but the fucker pissed me off. He told my mom that because she’d been smoking since she was a teenager, she probably was better off to TAPER her smoking off. Asshat. Well, that never happened. Every time I’ve quit (successfully) it’s been cold turkey.
I quit for a couple of years. She still smoked (and continues to do so), but only in her bedroom.
Then I went to BlogHer 2006. I bummed some smokes off of some friends and BAM! Hooked again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
And now it’s time to quit again, before I really start feeling the effects of this shit that is killing me ever so slowly. Britt and I have talked about quitting together for months now. She wanted to quit on July 1, right after we got back from BrittCon.
“I can’t do that,” I said. “I have BlogHer coming up and that stresses me out.” Social anxiety and all that jazz. Big crowds of people, me having to actually interact…*shivers*.
So I emailed her the other day with a new quit date. And that leads us to this:
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Friday, August 15, Karl and Britt QUIT.
It’s helpful to have a quit date picked out in advance. Especially since I just bought several cartons of smokes for my California trip. When those are gone, I’ll be buying individual packs. And come midnight on Friday the 15th, I’ll be done.
Hopefully, for good.
And if any of you bitches get up in my grill for the next 30 days after that, may the Lord have mercy upon your soul. Because I’ll rip your face to shreds with a cheese grater, and then I’ll REALLY go to work on you.
Don’t forget, this afternoon at 5:00pm Eastern time, it’s another episode of SecondHand Radio. My guest will be author Carly Milne, who wrote (among other books) Sexography.
Please join us in the chatroom while you listen to the show. You’ll be able to call in and ask anything you like, or just interject your own viewpoint on something. Sex, and lots of it, baby. Today at 5pm Eastern, 2pm Pacific.
Filed under 2HT Radio, BlogHer, Blogging, Local Goings On | Comments (53)
DutchBitch reporting for duty in 2HT’s Summer of Love! It’s July 12 and my number is up! I am your guest host for today! You bettah believe it!
Hmmm, so let’s take a look around here… Karl did not just invite me to guest post. Knowing I am an organized bitch he also asked me to kinda have a look around and put some order in the chaos that is called Second Hand Tryptophan… Cuz ya know… Karl is not the most organized bitch around… I mean, have you actually had a look around here? Does the man ever clean up his shit?
See, there’s all kinds of Woopra chats lying around… I see magnets, mugs, Tshirts… Pictures of him in compromizing positions with Hilly, Britt, Becky, hey! There’s even one with me on there! OMFG! They must be fake! I’ve never met the guy! Kaaaaaaarrlllllllllll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Goddammit!
What else have we got here? Some worn out BlogTalkRadio microphones… Tons of Jury duty summonses … Naked pics of Karl just wearing his Superman cape… Sex party flyers… Oh, and is that a cockring I see lying around there? Oh sorry, make that several cockrings… one with a vibrating part on there even… A silicon headless chick (yeah, he led us to believe he didn’t get one but ob-vi-ous-ly he did).
OK and there’s TequilaCon and BrittCon souvenirs… Oh fuck, I just stepped into his nose hair clippers… Ouch! I’m bleeding!!! * faint *
Hey, empty pizza boxes under the couch there… And wow… an immense collection of blog award and appreciation badges…
Empty Brewster coffee cups… Hmmm… some Guinness cans… and hey! There’s the rest of his Superman outfit… WTF is that doing on the kitchen counter? Ooohw and is that his cellphone there? *peeking at Karl’s private txt messages* *SHOCK*
There’s his crown hanging from the chandelier… Funny thing, Karl never struck me as royalty but I guess he is…
Let’s go raid his bedroom… OMFG! There’s anonymized boobie shots all around his bed!!! Girls, you did realize this when he came at you with his camera at boobie level, did ya? Dirty boxers… does the man do no laundry either? Holy shit!!! Oh, there’s some acupuncture needles… Interesting… I thought they were all taken out before you go home from therapy..
I wonder what is in his bathroom cabinet… Let’s take a look… Holy Crap! It’s full of bottles of Phallus! Phallus Clean, Phallus Slut, and Phallus Dirty!!!
Gawd Damn! How am I ever gonna get order in this 2HT chaos!? I should’ve known what I got myself into when he asked me about that….
OK, there is just one way to do this… I am dragging all this shit outside… ALL of it!!!
We are having a Karl sale!
Spread the word! Spread it! Anything and everything to the highest bidder! Anyone for a cockring? Boobie shots? A 2HT mug? A Superman suit? It’s been worn before but it’s still in mint condition… Seriously! I promise!!! And yeah yeah yeah, I’ll let you lick my stiletto heels… IF you buy something…
Filed under Guest Post | Comments (17)
Many thanks to Shelli for another great guest post yesterday, as the Summer of Love at 2HT continues. She wrote more about this entire “Alpha Blogger” discussion that’s still going on. Tomorrow it’ll be the DutchBitch herself from the DutchFiles.
I also want to pimp out SecondHand Radio. Another episode is coming up on Sunday afternoon and my guest this week is the drop-dead gorgeous author of Sexography
I have the feeling that we’ll talk about sex a great deal. You know, in between all the fawning and hitting on Carly, of course. I totally want to go out with her.
I realized that in my many detailed recaps of BrittCon last week (they’re easy to find…just click on the Archives above and you’ll see them), I forgot to include some photos. I mean, I forgot to TAKE a few photos and include them.
First is a picture of the cool stress balls (TWKS) I got in Chinatown. “For you? Six dolla!”
They’re very cool and kind of sing/jingle when you play with them. Much like my own balls.
Next is something truly amazing. As you all know, my name is Karl. My last name is Erikson. So it’s not surprising, really, that I’ve spelled my name hundreds of thousands of times in my life to date. Every single school teacher, every single nurse or doctor I’ve seen, every time I’ve registered for a class or a seminar, every time a friend has put me in their cell phone…always with the spelling.
There are different ways to do it, of course.
That’s Karl with a “K”.
Erikson with no C’s.
Karl Erikson - no C’s anywhere. (Which is most always followed by, “What do you mean?”)
Because as soon as I say my name is Karl, whoever is on the other side of the desk or phone starts writing “Carl.” I’m not usually quick enough with the “with a K.” So when I DO say “it’s with a K” they just put a vertical line attached to the C to create some sort of mutant K.
This used to bother me a lot growing up. For a while there, I hated my name because I hated spelling it over and over and over. I really had to spend a lot of time pondering what my domain name would be because of the spelling. After all, it DOES matter when you’re typing in the URL. I thought about secondhandtryptophan.com but that’s even more of a spelling nightmare than Karl. In the end, I said screw it and went with secondhandkarl.com. Obviously. And yeah, if you type in karlerikson.com it forwards here, too. Maybe some day I’ll do something with that domain. I doubt it.
Now I dig my name - it’s unique - and I’m really desensitized to the spelling. In fact, unless it’s something crucial - such as medical records or Social Security or taxes or paychecks - I just don’t even bother spelling it. If I’m at a restaurant, for example, and I give my name to wait on a table, I don’t worry about the spelling. It SOUNDS the same either way, so why spend an extra 5 seconds correcting them? Not worth it.
But one of the things about having a unique name is that you can never find any personalized souvenirs that are spelled “correctly.” If I go to Disneyworld and look for a cup or a magnet or keychain with “Karl” on it, I’m always left out. It’s not disappointing to me any more…it just IS.
Yes, in today’s world, I can easily personalize something with my name spelled correctly, thanks to companies on the Net like Zazzle. But it’s not the same as finding something in a sea of mugs that says “Karl” and not “Carl.”
I have NEVER EVER seen any personalized merchandise with “Karl” on it. EVER.
Until I went to New York City and we went through a souvenir shop full of t-shirts and magnets and mugs and all the other stuff people buy to prove they were actually in NYC.
And when I saw this, I nearly cried.
It’s just a silly little piece of embossed tin. But it says Karl. With a K. And when I saw it, I cried aloud, “Oh my GOD!” Britt and Becky came over to see what the big deal was. And it was/is a big deal, believe me. I explained to them that it was the first and only time I’ve seen my name spelled correctly on a silly little piece of tin (or anything else) and they smiled and said, “Cool” but I don’t think they got it.
I have never spent $5.99 more readily and happily than I did that night. I love my little license plate. And it wouldn’t surprise me, honestly, if I never again experience another personalized souvenir spelled correctly. And I’m perfectly OK with that. I’ll be 42 in a couple of months and I’ve now found something…one thing…spelled correctly.
So Alyson, my lovely daughter, don’t quit looking in stores. All things are possible. Yes, you can curse Dad because I’m the one who picked your first name. Your mom picked your middle name.
Ashley, you’re welcome. You got lucky with a name that’s fairly popular. You can thank your mother for that because I picked your middle name and your mom picked your first name.
In other news, the NEW iPHONE comes out today! I’m like an excited little kid on Christmas Eve. I want to drive to Orlando’s Apple Store and get an iPhone RIGHT NOW! I’m currently negotiating with Britt and my mother like some foreign trade summit to make this happen. Yes, I’m going to be at Adam’s house on Monday, anyway, but like Veruca Salt I WANT IT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!
And, in other other news, I recently received a huge box from a publishing company, full of lovely goodies. BOOKS!
I won these over at Whit’s place as a Father’s Day package. Thanks, Whit.
Very cool. Lots of books that I wouldn’t buy myself. Some of them sports-related. War books. Books that require me to have more testosterone than I own. But I look forward to reading them. I don’t think I really need the “Dude’s Guide to Pregnancy.” Pretty much have that one covered. Plus, I’ve been fixed and it’s gonna take a hell of a woman to make me go under the knife down THERE again.
Filed under Guest Post, Local Goings On, Travel, Web/Tech | Comments (39)
