Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Smokin' Hot Homegrown Boyfriend For Life Latin Mover :: How Search Engines Work

:: When he looks back at me, his eyes travel around my face the way fingers dart through the bottom of a drawer, searching for batteries in a blackout.::
- Holly Schindler, Playing Hurt





Should you want the full flavor of this post, please assume the identity of two distinct characters.  I am channeling Forrest Gump and Fifty Cent.  Any postings I make in the next few days should NOT be trusted.
I quit smoking.
My plan was to quit on the one year anniversary of my move abroad.  As there have been previous attempts at various stages of my life, I know how it rolls.  The day would arrive and I would not be moved to quit.  When I woke up the other morning, I had received a postcard from Baby Jesus that read, 'QUIT', so I did.  In this state of chemical withdrawal, I seem to deeply dislike people from cold ass places like Wisconsin,  am passionately jealous of those in jihad training, and could kick my own backdoor for not having enough chocolate stashed in Casa de la Colmena Azul!

Believe this - I AM temporarily a crazy person!    

1: 00 a.m.
I jump out of bed, head to the bathroom, mostly silent, but as I seem to have developed Tourette Syndrome, a demonic out-loud voice arises, scripting a run-on monologue.  It goes something like this:

Boyfriend For Life!, I am way over transforming myself into your smokin' hot girlfriend just to end up sleeping with king size pillows!   Get your ass down here!  I need you here right now!  And that's all I have to say about that.  I just looked at a cigarette butt, picked it up, rolled it between my forefinger and thumb, and asked myself which was more important, lighting that foul smelling two day old butt, or smelling your peppermint breath.  I'm sick!  I'm an addict!  I'm crying!  I want to come homeNow, you come on and fetch me!

3:32 a.m.
Back to bed.

4:30 a.m.:: 2nd cup of coffee
Jimmy legs!  Jimmy arms!  Jimmy strands of hair!.  Every part of me is jumping.  If I were a squirrel, I would have already munched down on an electrical line!  Let's make some waffles!

5:30 a.m.:: 4th cup of coffee
What the hell woke me up at 1 a.m.? Oh, it was the damn Russians.  They are following me.  I swear, Russians are watching every move I make.  Why me?  I am not interesting in any way, especially at this point in my non-smoking career.  Why, I look ridiculous, which is not a synonym for marvelous.  My fist are  wrapped so tight around my tiny 2 lb hand weights, you'd think I was prepared to meet Sugar Ray.  My arms are moving enough water to be certified a national treasure.  From now on, please just refer to me as The Broad known as Cascada.

6:45 a.m.
I keep forgetting to tell you what this post is about!

The 5 Top Rated Post From News From A Broad

The Encore Life of The Expatriate

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STOP : SMOKING

To My Darling : Always & All Ways

Importing Household Goods : Was It Worth It : Part 3 of 3

Create the life you want!
The Broad

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