I'm Off The Skag!

I quit. I'm a quitter. I hope, anyways. I've quit smoking. I plan on employing the Sick Boy Method. No patch, no gum, no throat lozenges. I'll have none of it. Instead I've armed myself with reasons. There are tons of them, but the three that stick out the most in my mind are these: 1. D and I have a baby. 2. My uncle had a heart attack recently and almost didn't make it. The doctors attributed it to his smoking. He quit, he's been at it much longer than me, so why can't I? 3. A good friend of mine recently got pneumonia. He's been in the hospital for three weeks. He hasn't come off of the oxygen yet. The doctors are attributing his slow recovery to smoking. He quit, with help from the patch, he has been at it much longer than me, so why can't I?

It's going to be hard, I know. D wholeheartedly recommends the gum, but again I'll be having none of it. The self imposed smoking embargo begins now. And, I'm going gumless!

I've seen my immediate future, and it is bleak to say the least. It includes an on the job nicotine withdrawal freakout where I takle one of my coworkers like my name was Shawne Merriman. Suffice it to say that in the coming days I may be fired from my job. But know this, I have smoked my last smooze because win lose or draw I'm officially off the skag.