There’s just something about being in japan that turns me from a sedate, normally healthy(well, not mentally) person into a nicotine craving maniac. Is it just me? Or is it the fact that the japanese streets are littered with cigarette vending machines with uncountable variety of coffin nails? Or, perhaps, unlike everything in japan, for whatever reason, a pack of smokes is cheaper than dirt.
I have a conferssion to make. Sometimes, picking a cigarette to buy is like choosing candy. They all look so good and delicious! And i became hopelessly addicted to (coincidentally) cigarettes called “hope”.
It only comes 10 sticks to a box, and short ones at that. But boy howdy, are they potent. If you aren’t man enough to smoke the regular ones(in blue box,) get yourself “lights” in red boxes. I suppose i’m not much of a friend, as i picked up a carton at the FA SO LA narita duty free to distribute to my friends. “yo, mang, it’s nice to see you. Here, i’ve picked up a few boxes of life-shortener for you!”
Hope, with its 10 per pack, is perfect for a neurotic nicotine junky like me. See, my guilt conscience goes into an overdrive whenever i dig around in my pocket for some coinage to stuff into a vending machine.
“Yeah, this is it. Last pack of smokes i’ll ever buy. After i finish this pack, i will exercise, stop eating takoyaki, and ride the bicycle instead of the 5 minute train ride. Hm, i wonder if the bicycle even works anymore? Will old ladies laugh at me for riding the bike holding an umbrella? Yeah, anyway, this is the last pack.”
I have this conversation with myself everytime i’m at a vending machine. The whole time thuggish japanese kids are behind me, tapping their foot impatiently.
My favorite brand used to be “7-stars”. Damn, these were delicious pack of fags. I think there were also “REVO” version, although i can’t remember for sure anymore. The thing that made me quit cold puffing, temporarily, anyway, was the fact that one afternoon after i’d bought a pack, and smoked maybe two or three, i got sick.
It’s just a common variety cold, mind you, but damn it all, if it wasn’t the most vicious viral ass kicking i’ve ever received. At night i’d shiver so much the bed would move a few inches, and in the morning, i’d feel like someone was punching me from inside out.
I went to the clinic, of course. And described to the “doctor” (i think he was… he was wearing a white coat) that i think i have some kind of voodoo cold and i felt like, well, dying. He does what doctors do, that is, depress my tongue with his used up stick from his popsicle, nods his head gravely and says,
“Influenza.”
Really? So this is how i go out? Influenza? Didn’t like, couple of billion people die from some kind of influenza epidemic? Little did i know in my ignorance that what americans call “flu” is just short for “influenza”. Damn, i wasted all that anxiety for nothing.
Well, he did prescribe some suspicious cocaine-looking powder, and some other sundry drugs. Not really able to understand the kanji, i just swallowed a handful. Take that, virus.
Anyway, back to the cigarettes.
So now i’ve kicked the nasty habit, and instead, have moved onto a better form of nicotine delivery vehicle, namely, nicorettes. These babies rock. You can chew them anytime, even next to a newborn baby, and at most people suspect you of having a nice minty breath. And, if you put it in your crack pipe and smoke it, man… the high is indescribable. Okay, not really.
To those of you needing to curb your barbaric habit, here’s a device that puts your cancer sticks under a lock down, opening only after a prescribed time has elapsed. A nice way to dole out your tar and carbon monoxide, eh, guv’nor? The website even says it’s a great way to ration out snacks like chocolate and crystal meth, as a diet tool, you see.
from konna
