Yesterday I made mention that the dreams hadn't been as terrifying as anticipated. I usually take my PM dose of the dream crack around 8 or so. Last night I had forgotten about it and took it on my way to bed around 11. Well, the secrets out... taking that shit right before bed will bring on the crazy in no time flat. I woke up short of breath and in a full sweat around 330 and never really got back to sleep:
June 30 -
I'm on the balcony of our townhome, it's late, I'm smoking (Chantix only works while you're awake, BTW). It's definitely my house, but has no resemblance and there's a giant office building off my balcony that appears to be under construction. Strange glow in the sky and suddenly I notice hundreds of commercial airliners that normally make a pretty line to head to DCA are basically all darting for the Atlantic Ocean as fast as possible. Suddenly there is a huge surge of electricity and the office building I'm looking at bursts into flames. The heat is so intense I remember my cigarette burning twice as fast as it was supposed to. My face feels like it's melting. When the initial chaos stops, I can see the resulting fire is moving very quickly towards my building. Where is my wife? Where is the dog? I always have plans for this sort of thing but I'm helpless. I grab my cell and call 911 only to have the operator tell me half the city is on fire and do what I can on my own. The flames are actually on the posts of my deck. I know there is a hose down there somewhere. I grab the only extinguisher in the house and hightail it. Naturally, the only way to get to the back of my house is like a 1,000 meter dash. By the time I get around, the deck is engulfed in flames. I look up and there is my wife, screaming behind a pane of glass, holding the dog, banging on the glass for me to help them. She's hysterical, the dog is trying to squirm out of her arms. I'm screaming at her to get out. I start using the extinguisher and it's worthless. I find the hose that's back there, turn the water on, and look down to find my hands are are caked with bubbling melting plastic - the hose has melted.
By this time there are neighbors crawling around everywhere, all freaked out, no one knows what to do or how to help or where to go. I start the trek back to my front door as fast as I can, run inside, wife and dog are nowhere to be found. I search high and low and for the life of me can't find them. I swear I hear the dog crying, but don't know from where. I bolt upstairs, grab our safe box with the important things and run for it. Outside, the fires have started to die off and there are half charred people everywhere. They're crying, clothes half burned off, searching through rubble for pets and people. The building we live in is destroyed. I can't find my family. Last thing I remember is our neighbor putting his hand on my shoulder... I looked back and he was shaking his head. They were gone. I passed out.
Mental note - take PM Chantix dose early.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Smoking Vs McDonalds
Of the many lifestyle changes I've tried to enact as I get older, one was to quit fast food. Not for good, really, because how long can one actually go without a Big Mac, or a Taco Supreme with Fire Sauce, or a Whopper dripping in mayo? Dang that stuff is like crack. It also has another thing in common with crack - it'll kill you. I recall sitting in DFW airport one day after a particularly late night of entertaining clients. I felt like shit, my flight was delayed, and like an oasis in the desert I spotted the golden arches. I didn't think twice, I went for it. On this particular visit it was for a double quarter pounder with cheese, fries, and a sprite. I like to put the hot mustard sauce on my QP's, you should try it, heaven. Anyway - I was alone, so I had to find the right place to sit that didn't make me feel uncomfortable sitting alone. I found a spot on the edge of a heavily trafficked area so I could at least people watch. It's always great at a hub airport. As I plowed into my McDonalds, I noticed something... heavy people may see you eating it and think, "dang, that looks really good". However, when 'in shape' people see you eating McDonalds, they have a tendency to give you the most shameful look - like, "I can't believe you're doing that to your body." I imagine it's the same face I make when I see an obese family going out for a Friday night dinner of KFC. It's not a good feeling to be on the receiving end of that. As I cried into my french fries, I vowed from that day forward to only eat fast food in the privacy of my car!
Smoking in public makes me feel the exact same way. Like scum. A degenerate An outcast. Smoking is for losers. People with no self control. Why would I willingly (and repeatedly, mind you) ingest something that is proven to kill me?
Because they make me feel so good at that exact moment, that's why. Ugh.
Onto the dreams - I'd like to point out that the dreams haven't been nearly as psychotic as I anticipated. Vowing to keep track of them, I may have psyched myself out. They are vivid as anything, just not all that terrifying the last few nights. I just saw a guy post something on Facebook that said, "Chantix gave me nightmares from underneath hell but definitely cut the cig cravings to nothing." I loved the comment.
June 29 -
I was in the hospital caring for my mom. She was fine, but whatever it was required an overnight stay. She was sharing a room with a bunch of other people. As she lay sleeping, a patient walked in and was really messed up. He had skin hanging off his arms, his face was annihilated, but he seemed in good spirits none the less. I asked him what had happened and he told me he and a friend of his were really stoned and were throwing pennies down an old well. They got bored of this and decided to see what would happen if they put a toaster on a long extension cord, turned it on, and sent it down. As he tossed it, the cord got wrapped around this dudes leg and when it hit the water, it completely fried him. He was kind of laughing about it. Then he mentioned that his friend had been tripping on acid at the time and when he saw him all burned up, he freaked out, and is now in the psych ward. It was strange to say the least.
A few minutes later his friends came to visit him and they had all sorts of drugs with them. Weed, hash, pot brownies - they kept offering me all sorts of drugs and I kept declining (I mean, I had to take care of my mom not to mention WE ARE IN A HOSPITAL). I finally asked for something to take home for later and this girl handed me a bag of weed. Just then, my dad was walking into the room and for whatever reason, I could not get this baggie into my pocket. It just wouldn't go. It ripped open and suddenly there was like 3 pounds of weed on the floor in front of me - in a hospital - with my sick mom asleep in front of me - and my dad standing there staring at me. Awful.
June 29 -
A reoccurring theme lately - not being able to get where I'm going.
I'm at a hotel in Florida working a big trade show. The event is over and as usual, I'm looking for fun customers to take to the bars. Somehow I manage to grab a few great customers and Paris Hilton. Now, I'm not the biggest Paris fan, but I'm thinking it'd be pretty cool to have a few drinks with her. So I send them off to the bar and I'm going to meet them there. I had to go get my wife because there was no way she was going to miss this. I had to go pick her up some where. I spent what felt like the next three hours completely lost. My car broke down. I walked into a gas station to find an ATM, it wouldn't work. I found a bank an hour later of walking and finally got some cash. I couldn't find a cab. I finally found a cab and it got t-boned by a truck in the next intersection. I finally started walking back to the hotel. Couldn't find it. Lost my cell phone somewhere, couldn't call my wife or anyone to let them know what was going on. I finally got back to the hotel and needed to go up one level. All the elevators were busted. The escalators all went the wrong way. There were no stairs. It was complete an utter frustration. This bled into some dream about the Coast Guard doing practice maneuvers in San Diego and I was watching from a bridge. There were guys parachuting from choppers onto the decks of these huge ships. Problem was that most of them were missing the deck and you could see them getting sucked into the wash of the ships.
That's the last thing I remember.
Smoking in public makes me feel the exact same way. Like scum. A degenerate An outcast. Smoking is for losers. People with no self control. Why would I willingly (and repeatedly, mind you) ingest something that is proven to kill me?
Because they make me feel so good at that exact moment, that's why. Ugh.
Onto the dreams - I'd like to point out that the dreams haven't been nearly as psychotic as I anticipated. Vowing to keep track of them, I may have psyched myself out. They are vivid as anything, just not all that terrifying the last few nights. I just saw a guy post something on Facebook that said, "Chantix gave me nightmares from underneath hell but definitely cut the cig cravings to nothing." I loved the comment.
June 29 -
I was in the hospital caring for my mom. She was fine, but whatever it was required an overnight stay. She was sharing a room with a bunch of other people. As she lay sleeping, a patient walked in and was really messed up. He had skin hanging off his arms, his face was annihilated, but he seemed in good spirits none the less. I asked him what had happened and he told me he and a friend of his were really stoned and were throwing pennies down an old well. They got bored of this and decided to see what would happen if they put a toaster on a long extension cord, turned it on, and sent it down. As he tossed it, the cord got wrapped around this dudes leg and when it hit the water, it completely fried him. He was kind of laughing about it. Then he mentioned that his friend had been tripping on acid at the time and when he saw him all burned up, he freaked out, and is now in the psych ward. It was strange to say the least.
A few minutes later his friends came to visit him and they had all sorts of drugs with them. Weed, hash, pot brownies - they kept offering me all sorts of drugs and I kept declining (I mean, I had to take care of my mom not to mention WE ARE IN A HOSPITAL). I finally asked for something to take home for later and this girl handed me a bag of weed. Just then, my dad was walking into the room and for whatever reason, I could not get this baggie into my pocket. It just wouldn't go. It ripped open and suddenly there was like 3 pounds of weed on the floor in front of me - in a hospital - with my sick mom asleep in front of me - and my dad standing there staring at me. Awful.
June 29 -
A reoccurring theme lately - not being able to get where I'm going.
I'm at a hotel in Florida working a big trade show. The event is over and as usual, I'm looking for fun customers to take to the bars. Somehow I manage to grab a few great customers and Paris Hilton. Now, I'm not the biggest Paris fan, but I'm thinking it'd be pretty cool to have a few drinks with her. So I send them off to the bar and I'm going to meet them there. I had to go get my wife because there was no way she was going to miss this. I had to go pick her up some where. I spent what felt like the next three hours completely lost. My car broke down. I walked into a gas station to find an ATM, it wouldn't work. I found a bank an hour later of walking and finally got some cash. I couldn't find a cab. I finally found a cab and it got t-boned by a truck in the next intersection. I finally started walking back to the hotel. Couldn't find it. Lost my cell phone somewhere, couldn't call my wife or anyone to let them know what was going on. I finally got back to the hotel and needed to go up one level. All the elevators were busted. The escalators all went the wrong way. There were no stairs. It was complete an utter frustration. This bled into some dream about the Coast Guard doing practice maneuvers in San Diego and I was watching from a bridge. There were guys parachuting from choppers onto the decks of these huge ships. Problem was that most of them were missing the deck and you could see them getting sucked into the wash of the ships.
That's the last thing I remember.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Wii Shall See
My fist Saturday after my quit date. Sweet. It's a beautiful day, I got a decent nights sleep, and I'm fresh off running a little over 3 miles through the picturesque village of Shirlington. Going to get some pho in a little while with my wife, then off to do whatever the hell we want as we have no plans, no kids, and basically no responsibilities today. This of course will likely lead to a little day drinking somewhere. Apparently there is a Peroni Festival downtown DC today - the Italian in me can't stay away.
After drinking no less than 20 bud lights between the two of us, me and my bro-in-law gambled on Wii Golf until the wii hours of the morning (of which I have at least one $5 bill to account for my game). I should have expected nothing less than the following very odd dream:
June 27 -
I'm in the Wii golf game. I'm actually walking the course that I just played 15 times while I was conscious. I'm playing against Taylor and there he is, all cartooned out. I'm a bit freaked out by the whole thing. Taylor starts yelling at me to go because he 'can't spend all night playing in this god damn game'. Wild. We're on the 9th hole. It's an island hole but there's like 4 islands. It's my go and I need to at least make par to get out this video game. I'm scared to death because while I'm a scratch in Wii golf, my real golf game is abysmal at best. I tee off and immediately hear this very high decibel 'wobble wobble' thunder out of sky- my shot went arrant because I swung too hard. It went right in the drink. Taylor is screaming at me because I only had the one ball. I have no pockets, no golf bag, no fingers even. He takes his shot and nails the fairway. I look up, and he's on the next island already. I have no ball, I can't figure out how to get over there - there's no bridge. It's awful. I see Taylor hit his next two shots and he's on the green. He two puts for his par and - poof - he's gone. I just stood there - fingerless, no legs, staring out at this imaginary ocean until I just drifted out of the dream...
After drinking no less than 20 bud lights between the two of us, me and my bro-in-law gambled on Wii Golf until the wii hours of the morning (of which I have at least one $5 bill to account for my game). I should have expected nothing less than the following very odd dream:
June 27 -
I'm in the Wii golf game. I'm actually walking the course that I just played 15 times while I was conscious. I'm playing against Taylor and there he is, all cartooned out. I'm a bit freaked out by the whole thing. Taylor starts yelling at me to go because he 'can't spend all night playing in this god damn game'. Wild. We're on the 9th hole. It's an island hole but there's like 4 islands. It's my go and I need to at least make par to get out this video game. I'm scared to death because while I'm a scratch in Wii golf, my real golf game is abysmal at best. I tee off and immediately hear this very high decibel 'wobble wobble' thunder out of sky- my shot went arrant because I swung too hard. It went right in the drink. Taylor is screaming at me because I only had the one ball. I have no pockets, no golf bag, no fingers even. He takes his shot and nails the fairway. I look up, and he's on the next island already. I have no ball, I can't figure out how to get over there - there's no bridge. It's awful. I see Taylor hit his next two shots and he's on the green. He two puts for his par and - poof - he's gone. I just stood there - fingerless, no legs, staring out at this imaginary ocean until I just drifted out of the dream...
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Show Cancelled
Maybe it was the spicy jalapeño cheese burger I had an hour before bed, maybe it was sheer exhaustion, I'm not sure. I can tell you that other than sporadic pops of golfing, cooking, an ex-girlfriend in overalls, something to do with the dog and trying to push a giant beach ball around... the HD theater of my dreams was dark last night.
Quit day tomorrow!! (see, the two exclamation points are basically emoticons conveying my positive outlook and relative excitedness to quit)
Quit day tomorrow!! (see, the two exclamation points are basically emoticons conveying my positive outlook and relative excitedness to quit)
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
All Quiet on the Poopy Front
Sweet Jesus! My dogs rhea has come and gone. This was a quick one! A great nights sleep and a veritable mini-series of wild dreams last night. I only recall one in detail. Quickly approaching my final quit date - trying to get excited for it. Trying.
6/24 -
I'm in New Orleans (my home town) and I'm extremely late to get to a dinner with my family at a restaurant way on the other side of Esplanade and I'm on Canal. We were all down there to see my brother in-law, Taylor Carson, perform at the Super Dome. So I'm running down Royal Street as fast as I can and it's of course jammed with tourists. I slowed down to get through some people and two women flag me down, very interested to hear where I'm going. One is absolutely gorgeous and the other... meh. For whatever reason, I'm speaking in a New England accent which they found irresistible. I explained I had to go to whatever restaurant - they begged me to stay, but I left. I finally made it to the restaurant and it was a debacle. My parents were in charge of this large dinner and my dad had accidentally ordered everything to go. 12 of us ready to eat and all of our food was packed in boxes. I marched everyone across town to my house where I berated my father the entire time. Everyone left. Later that night, Taylor returned from his show (which I missed) to store all of the band equipment in my place.
The next morning I'm doing dishes in the kitchen and I see the less attractive of the two girls from yesterday walking up to my door. I waive her in and we start chatting in the kitchen. Not two seconds later, I see the exact same girl walking out of my front door with Taylors guitar case and a huge amp. There are two of them and they're robbing me. I start freaking out and grab the girl in the kitchen by the wrists and start muscling her out the front door. She's fighting back. I somehow managed to lock the door on my way out, so I knew the house was now safe. That move really pissed her off. Out on the street, she's putting up a fight and I let her know that I will not hesitate to pummel her face in if that stuff isn't returned immediately. Right as I said that, a group of men came up behind me and pull my arms behind my back - screaming at me to STFU, etc, you don't treat ladies like this. There are normal people walking around everywhere and I'm screaming at them to call 911. They all ignore me because they thought I was hurting an innocent woman. I took a savage beating, all the while my hands are held behind my back. I recall ribs cracking and my eyes swelling shut before I finally hit the ground.
No more talking to strange girls in my dreams.
Later,
G
6/24 -
I'm in New Orleans (my home town) and I'm extremely late to get to a dinner with my family at a restaurant way on the other side of Esplanade and I'm on Canal. We were all down there to see my brother in-law, Taylor Carson, perform at the Super Dome. So I'm running down Royal Street as fast as I can and it's of course jammed with tourists. I slowed down to get through some people and two women flag me down, very interested to hear where I'm going. One is absolutely gorgeous and the other... meh. For whatever reason, I'm speaking in a New England accent which they found irresistible. I explained I had to go to whatever restaurant - they begged me to stay, but I left. I finally made it to the restaurant and it was a debacle. My parents were in charge of this large dinner and my dad had accidentally ordered everything to go. 12 of us ready to eat and all of our food was packed in boxes. I marched everyone across town to my house where I berated my father the entire time. Everyone left. Later that night, Taylor returned from his show (which I missed) to store all of the band equipment in my place.
The next morning I'm doing dishes in the kitchen and I see the less attractive of the two girls from yesterday walking up to my door. I waive her in and we start chatting in the kitchen. Not two seconds later, I see the exact same girl walking out of my front door with Taylors guitar case and a huge amp. There are two of them and they're robbing me. I start freaking out and grab the girl in the kitchen by the wrists and start muscling her out the front door. She's fighting back. I somehow managed to lock the door on my way out, so I knew the house was now safe. That move really pissed her off. Out on the street, she's putting up a fight and I let her know that I will not hesitate to pummel her face in if that stuff isn't returned immediately. Right as I said that, a group of men came up behind me and pull my arms behind my back - screaming at me to STFU, etc, you don't treat ladies like this. There are normal people walking around everywhere and I'm screaming at them to call 911. They all ignore me because they thought I was hurting an innocent woman. I took a savage beating, all the while my hands are held behind my back. I recall ribs cracking and my eyes swelling shut before I finally hit the ground.
No more talking to strange girls in my dreams.
Later,
G
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Dreamus Interuptus
As you may suspect, that cute little profile pic of me is not me at all. It's our little girl, Jersey. She's a beagle mix of some sort that joined our family a little over three years ago. Timid little thing, but sweet and adorable none the less.
Adorable until she eats something she's not supposed to eat and gets the shits.
We took our normal early evening walk yesterday and after she ate her dinner, I found her crying by the door. Never a good sign. We went out to our normal spot and she let loose - grunting - very confused. She's good for one of these episodes two or three times a year.
She made it until 330AM and then it was game on. I kept clothes next to the bed so I could spring up like a fireman and roll out, alarms blaring. I think we went three or four times over the next few hours. 500AM I had to get my wife up to help, I was exhausted. Good times. As I type - she's staring at me, looking to go again.
Needless to say, I didn't have much time for dreaming, though I did have a particularly terrifying one somewhere between the doggy trotts.
6/23 -
I was in a house with my mom. It was a new house and she was having some work done. There were about a half dozen workers running around. It was time for me to go so I kissed her goodbye and went on my way. About one block from the house, I could hear a huge thump and blood curdling scream... it was mom. I ran back and threw the front door open - I yelled for her and she screamed for my help. It had been so bright outside that when I went back inside the house, I literally couldn't see anything and for the life of me, my eyes would not adjust. She kept yelling for me and I could hear the workers yelling at each other to take care of me, too. As I tried desperately to work my way through total blindness to find my mom, I started taking hits to the body with a bat. It wasn't long before one found my temple and I went down, helpless, drifting in and out of consciousness all the while listening to my mom scream for help.
Adorable until she eats something she's not supposed to eat and gets the shits.
We took our normal early evening walk yesterday and after she ate her dinner, I found her crying by the door. Never a good sign. We went out to our normal spot and she let loose - grunting - very confused. She's good for one of these episodes two or three times a year.
She made it until 330AM and then it was game on. I kept clothes next to the bed so I could spring up like a fireman and roll out, alarms blaring. I think we went three or four times over the next few hours. 500AM I had to get my wife up to help, I was exhausted. Good times. As I type - she's staring at me, looking to go again.
Needless to say, I didn't have much time for dreaming, though I did have a particularly terrifying one somewhere between the doggy trotts.
6/23 -
I was in a house with my mom. It was a new house and she was having some work done. There were about a half dozen workers running around. It was time for me to go so I kissed her goodbye and went on my way. About one block from the house, I could hear a huge thump and blood curdling scream... it was mom. I ran back and threw the front door open - I yelled for her and she screamed for my help. It had been so bright outside that when I went back inside the house, I literally couldn't see anything and for the life of me, my eyes would not adjust. She kept yelling for me and I could hear the workers yelling at each other to take care of me, too. As I tried desperately to work my way through total blindness to find my mom, I started taking hits to the body with a bat. It wasn't long before one found my temple and I went down, helpless, drifting in and out of consciousness all the while listening to my mom scream for help.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Day 6'ish
I made it through Friday night in Manhattan and Saturday night at a wedding in Mystic, CT with two packs of smokes. Not bad considering we were partying. I can already feel the Chantix manipulating my desire to smoke. The physical desire is starting to lift - which leaves me with the mechanical desires - the cues - that are hard to fight off.
It's day 6'ish because I missed a day and therefore pushed my quit date back. Thursday will be my last day of allowing myself to smoke and when I wake up Friday, I'm done. We have no major weekend plans which should help my cause.
One the more memorable dreams from the weekend:
June 20 -
I was in a van that was moving pretty fast. I had been kidnapped and was being beaten pretty badly by a few people. Turned out they were vampires. There was a male vampire on top of me that was doing his very best to bite into my neck. It was terrifying. All the while he's trying to bite me, there's a female vampire absolutely destroying his neck. His blood is all over my face and I'm trying to turn my head to keep it from getting in my eyes and mouth. I was able to free a hand and unlatch the sliding van door. I somehow managed to pull the male vampire over me and toss him out the door. He was torn apart by the back wheels. The female was all that was left - I'll censor here - but we ended up fooling around. WTF. I don't remember if she ever bit me.
June 21 -
I was working the front desk of a hotel that was completely over sold. The rooms were already full and there were literally thousands of people waiting in line to check in. Worst part was that I knew them all. Friends, clients, co-workers - I was the only one working in the hotel.
May not sound scary to you, but that's what I do for a living - hence it's status as a nightmare.
later -
G
It's day 6'ish because I missed a day and therefore pushed my quit date back. Thursday will be my last day of allowing myself to smoke and when I wake up Friday, I'm done. We have no major weekend plans which should help my cause.
One the more memorable dreams from the weekend:
June 20 -
I was in a van that was moving pretty fast. I had been kidnapped and was being beaten pretty badly by a few people. Turned out they were vampires. There was a male vampire on top of me that was doing his very best to bite into my neck. It was terrifying. All the while he's trying to bite me, there's a female vampire absolutely destroying his neck. His blood is all over my face and I'm trying to turn my head to keep it from getting in my eyes and mouth. I was able to free a hand and unlatch the sliding van door. I somehow managed to pull the male vampire over me and toss him out the door. He was torn apart by the back wheels. The female was all that was left - I'll censor here - but we ended up fooling around. WTF. I don't remember if she ever bit me.
June 21 -
I was working the front desk of a hotel that was completely over sold. The rooms were already full and there were literally thousands of people waiting in line to check in. Worst part was that I knew them all. Friends, clients, co-workers - I was the only one working in the hotel.
May not sound scary to you, but that's what I do for a living - hence it's status as a nightmare.
later -
G
Friday, June 19, 2009
And away we go
I was born in 1977, started smoking when I was around 18 - that would put me at 13 years of dealing with cigarettes. Wow. That's pretty bad when I think about it. It's not like I've been smoking 2 packs a day for 13 years, but I've certainly battled them. Recently, I gave in... again. Mark Twain put it best, "It's easy to quit smoking, I've done it hundreds of times." He's not kidding. I ask you one favor... if you've never smoked, don't give me a bunch of shit about how bad it is. I will cut you.
So yeah, the title - it's Day 3. I started taking Chantix, again. It's my second try on the drug. The first try was right before I turned 30. It worked - so well that I stopped taking the drug two months early! Then one night after a great dinner and an awesome bottle of Silver Oak, I caved. They are nasty little demonds but damn are they good. Fast forward to working on 32 years old. Turns out I have really high blood pressure (which I'm now medicated for) and it also turns out that I'm getting old and smoking is for losers.
If there was one memorable thing about my last run on Chantix - it was the month of the most random, screwed up, and vivid dreams one could ever imagine. I had dreams about shit I can't even tell my closest friends about. Last night, after two short days on the medication (at half the dose I'll be taking next week), the dreams fired up again. I've always been a vivid dreamer anyway - but this shit is like a 52 inch hi def plasma versus the TV I hooked my Commodore 64 up to. I'm going to do my best to capture the utter ridiculousness of these dreams in blog form for you to read. Some of it may be strange, but I’m going to try not to censor myself. I'll likely also bitch about quitting smoking and other noteworthy things that are happening in my world.
6/18 - 2 days on Chantix
I was on a destroyer type battle ship, but it was tiny, like 40 feet, so it made no sense. It was painted ghost white. We were closing in fast on this beach. The only way to get to the enemy was to beach the front of the ship. I had a giant handgun and everyone else had assault rifles and automatic weapons. I could barely lift the thing. We reached top speed and hit the beach - we all flew off and I remember landing on this behemoth of a gun. Fortunately, I braced the impact with my nuts. The rest of the people I was with were taking down the enemy left and right, it was wild. I couldn’t do anything because of this heavy ass handgun and the fact that I just took an epic nut shot. I dragged the weapon behind a utility box and found that it was me and one last enemy. We made eye contact - it was John Dillinger (the bank robber). So he's shooting at me and I'm trying to get this big ass gun up so I can fire back. I get it propped up, aim - and I see he's on his blackberry. What the hell is John Dillinger doing on this beach with his blackberry? I grab the giant trigger and squeeze. Blam-o. I hit him right in the blackberry. The blackberry ripped right through the side of his head just about to the middle of his nose. Half a brain hanging out and he's got a strange limp now. Not only is he still alive, he's pissed off - screaming about how his call dropped and it was really important. I'm floored. Paralyzed. Right then a giant brown bear came up behind me, picked up my giant gun, and finished Dillinger off. As I turned to thank the bear, he raised his paw and bitch slapped me so hard I went flying. When I asked him why the hell he did that, he said it was because I was being a bitch and that's what bitches get.
So yeah, the title - it's Day 3. I started taking Chantix, again. It's my second try on the drug. The first try was right before I turned 30. It worked - so well that I stopped taking the drug two months early! Then one night after a great dinner and an awesome bottle of Silver Oak, I caved. They are nasty little demonds but damn are they good. Fast forward to working on 32 years old. Turns out I have really high blood pressure (which I'm now medicated for) and it also turns out that I'm getting old and smoking is for losers.
If there was one memorable thing about my last run on Chantix - it was the month of the most random, screwed up, and vivid dreams one could ever imagine. I had dreams about shit I can't even tell my closest friends about. Last night, after two short days on the medication (at half the dose I'll be taking next week), the dreams fired up again. I've always been a vivid dreamer anyway - but this shit is like a 52 inch hi def plasma versus the TV I hooked my Commodore 64 up to. I'm going to do my best to capture the utter ridiculousness of these dreams in blog form for you to read. Some of it may be strange, but I’m going to try not to censor myself. I'll likely also bitch about quitting smoking and other noteworthy things that are happening in my world.
6/18 - 2 days on Chantix
I was on a destroyer type battle ship, but it was tiny, like 40 feet, so it made no sense. It was painted ghost white. We were closing in fast on this beach. The only way to get to the enemy was to beach the front of the ship. I had a giant handgun and everyone else had assault rifles and automatic weapons. I could barely lift the thing. We reached top speed and hit the beach - we all flew off and I remember landing on this behemoth of a gun. Fortunately, I braced the impact with my nuts. The rest of the people I was with were taking down the enemy left and right, it was wild. I couldn’t do anything because of this heavy ass handgun and the fact that I just took an epic nut shot. I dragged the weapon behind a utility box and found that it was me and one last enemy. We made eye contact - it was John Dillinger (the bank robber). So he's shooting at me and I'm trying to get this big ass gun up so I can fire back. I get it propped up, aim - and I see he's on his blackberry. What the hell is John Dillinger doing on this beach with his blackberry? I grab the giant trigger and squeeze. Blam-o. I hit him right in the blackberry. The blackberry ripped right through the side of his head just about to the middle of his nose. Half a brain hanging out and he's got a strange limp now. Not only is he still alive, he's pissed off - screaming about how his call dropped and it was really important. I'm floored. Paralyzed. Right then a giant brown bear came up behind me, picked up my giant gun, and finished Dillinger off. As I turned to thank the bear, he raised his paw and bitch slapped me so hard I went flying. When I asked him why the hell he did that, he said it was because I was being a bitch and that's what bitches get.
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