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.