I AM A FAG XIX

Having retired to bed with the knowledge i had smoked my last cigarette (and bravely opted not to dash to my local seveneleven to purchase some in anticipation of my morning cravings) i found myself durry-less and flustered as i sat patiently in the morning Moggill traffic. And after bailing one 400 bus (because it's wretched stench made me gag, the bus driver was a vicious love-child of Freddie Cougar and King Kong, and its antiquated pre-historic fucking old school state left me fearing that it would at anyh moment shake into a zillion pieces and land me ungracefully butt-first on Coro bitumin) to catch instead a newer, icy-cool airconned alternative, i continued to grit my teeth, check my watch impatiently and crave the rescue of the queen street seveneleven and its lifesaving array of marked-up but yet oh-so-satisfying cigarette range. Ah.

The moment finally came. And with the utterance "a pack of Marlboro Reds and $20 on my go-card thanks" i felt my morning improve exponentially almost instantly. Now for those who perhaps know me (god have mercy on your poor tainted souls) you may recall that i have an almost un-healthy affinity to red. Anything Red. Anything. I'm talking an un-rivaled love for tomatoes purely based on their colouring. I'm talking red-wall-red-doona-red-floor rug-red-gymball-red-lamp-red-curtains-red-candles-red-stones-in-fishtank-red-fucking-nailpolish-red-wallet red-red-RED ONLY ALLOWED PAST THIS POINT. And although moving out from my red-drenched good ole childhood room into my current abode was a slightly sombre day, i still opt for red-toned acessories as a hommage to my former self. So it seems to be that the inarguably brilliant combination of Marlboro and Red has me head over-not-so-much-there titties in an instant. yeah.

This may be rather presumptious of me, but it is as if the Marlboro design and marketing team created these cigarettes purely and solely for me, not only one of their most dedicated investors but also a steadfast follower of the red cult. Now i have already sailed pleasurably across the rest of the Marlboro range, so it was finally and inevitably time to suck-and-smile their red offering. Exaggerations, hyperboles, similes and lame comparisons aside, i held the belief that these cigarettes would take me to my happy place and leave me there. And i wasn't far wrong.

So i can in the future argue perhaps that i DO NOT RAMBLE INCESSANTLY GOD DAMN YOU, i will straight up switch my praise-in-words to praise-in-numbers. Hold on now.

Attractiveness of Pack- As i may have already suggested, red makes me pop sizzle and simmer. HOT. the seductive and sensual power of red never loses its knee-buckling affect on me. Ever. The revered distinctiveness of the Marlboro pack has the same visually-pleasing zing as their siblings, green/silver/gold/blue. No flaws in the design or decoration, a little 'boring' perhaps, but really we can never claim perfection in a world of acne and cellulite. So let's say 4.5 out of 5 malignant tumours.

Smoothness and Flavour- Like a gag in the mouth, the fully-fledged wack of these cigarettes instantly takes your breath away and replaces it with the awe-inspiring choke of tabacco. Being the strongest and hardest-hitting offering in the Marlboro range, i was anticipating the kick of a mule and force of a herd of stampeding buffalos. And i was correctemondo, The flavour is comparable to that gained from sucking 3 B&H's, and a Choice Silver in each nostril simultaneously. All rolled up into one hard-hitting fag. Surprisingly un-smooth however, but that can be put down to the fact that there is SO SO much flavour in these lovelies that it battles ruthlessly to gain footing in your respiratory tract, bumpily and carelessly fighting its way in. Though this "speed-bump effect" only slows down the durry munching, allowing for prelonged enjoyment.. For smoothness and flavour i award 3 and 5 respectively, averaging nicely to 4 out of 5 ma tum.

Burning time- verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry reasonable. Slow and steady like the turtle. Gives me enough time to watch flocks of Brisbanians, tourists, hags and criminals alike wander past my sitting self in Q st mall. And suss out the body-search and consequent drug bust over by the souvenir shop. and sip down my Coke Zero. AND then there's STILL give in this baby. reaow. Proudly awarding 5 out of 5 malignant tumours.

Lingering Taste- Well let's just say it's been at least 7 minutes since my last cigarette and i can still taste it frolicking in my tastebuds. It's hanging on like dozing bats on tree boughs. Remaining steadfast and un-moving like a heel stuck in a gap in the sidewalk. HA. Not relenting, like the damn sea of asians in sunnybank. There is litttle more i could ask for in terms of lingering taste (but i will hold my tongue til i'm sure, wont count my chickens before they hatch, just in case i hit the 10 minutes mark and the lingering taste begins to poof and disappear. but not likely baby......) 4.5 out of 5 malignant tumours..

AVERAGE SCORE FOR MARLBORO RED: 4.5 out of 5 malignant tumours. Another glorious result from the Marlboro Makers. Oh blessed are the Marlboro makers...I only wish their range could be extended to include various other types of orgasm-inducing cigarettes. ah well one day i shall climb the corporate ladder to the very bloody top and shall create a cigarette to rule them all... how about for now i just focus on getting some money and trying to find my dignity and possibly sense of moral judgement..

And now as i sit impatiently and painfully on the 454, scribbling inappropriately in my Chem book, as i have oh so many thoughts and no laptop to transfer them onto, i rememeber the very reason why my butt feels like it has been beaten to near death by a large solid blunt object. With my buttbone 'ouching' with every bump and shudder of the bus, my night-before-last's mistake comes back to haunt me and stays clearly in my mind. A belly-full of beer and a little too much alcohol-induced confidence gave seed to my "wow that would be so FUN" idea of attempting to jump the back fence. With the aid of a chair and a head full of optimism i commenced my venture. Oh let me tell you the climbing and jumping went exactly to plan. It was the landing that didnt quite go as i had anticipated. Like a beaten dog i recoiled back to my room and sulkily mourned my aching behind. I am still finding the pain to be irritating at times. Ah youth.

Well that must be all for another day. I shall attempt to conquer the Mt Everest-esque pile of fucking un-blogged-about cigarettes mounting steadily in my room. Ah a pack a day keeps the doctor away.

ex

M.