I found this brilliant query under my Search Engine Terms, so don’t blame me for the unfortunate header. Blame the unemployment rate, ring dings, Budweiser, crack, a broken home, Jerry Springer and the Boston Red Sox September implosion. I’m not saying this genius came from New England but I can’t prove otherwise.
Never mind that. This post is about something near and dear to my heart. Smoking. I play this Michael Corleone line way too literally, I’m aware. But since I don’t want you turning the dial in search of a dirty dick, here’s the recipe I Googled. It turns out there are six million dirty dicks on Google, so I went with the one Jennifer Aniston HASN’T fallen in love with.
-1 oz Bailey’s Irish Cream
-1 oz Bourbon
-Splash on some Kahlua (Which to my preference would measure about, oh, half a bottle)
-1/2 oz Schnapps, Root Beer
Add ice and enjoy! And if you’re a smoker, have one for me? It’s not like you can’t spare the 11 minutes you’re shaving off your epilogue- which is the time you’re giving away with every cigarette you smoke. This math is very confusing since by my estimation, I should have died with disco. Strange since I was a non-smoking middle schooler at the time.
Seven days in, or is that out? Not sure. It’s been seven days and I’m more agitated than a dirty pair of jeans in a Maytag scrum. I’m more pissed than God was at himself for making Snooki. I’m jumpier than Hunter Thompson on the final approach into Vegas. It’s bad.
My girlfriend is putting her best (non-smoker) spin on the situation. She says if Superman were a smoker, he sure as hell wouldn’t be circling the earth in the time it takes to eat a bologna sandwich. Which is a great point. A pack a day habit and he’d be lucky if he could circle the block in his BMW while looking for a parking space. Not to mention, his dry cleaning bill would be outrageous. My dry cleaner has a kanipshin whenever I bring in lace or wool. I can’t imagine what she’d say about a steel suit.
Girlfriend could have quit there, but since she’s a non-smoker, she didn’t have to . . .
“Why don’t you take the money you would’ve spent on cigarettes and stash it away?”
Nice try but the fact of the matter is I have no money to stash away since I quit. I’ve invested even MORE money in mints, food and coffee than I would’ve put into my smoking regimen. It turns out, I was saving money by smoking. Sure I was cutting my life short, but technically, that could be considered a savings as well.
Since I began this post in non-smoking, I’ll end it that way with some advice for the next celeb who’s busy honing a Hank Williams moment into early retirement. If you’re going to compare ANYONE to Hitler, make sure it’s your mother in law.