I AM A FAG XXIV

Well they say Ho Ho Ho, but i insist no no NO. For fuck sake, i am old enough to know the true meaning of christmas (wasting money we dont have on back-scratches, heated slippers, novelty stubby holders, large sticky shiny-glazed pieces of animal cooked through and devoured by many accompanying a beer and anecdotal tales of "last year's xmas when Uncle Jo got maggot and tried to fuck the dog"...) yet young enough to still be able to easily recall the times when, awaking on xmas morning, i would bound gleefully toward the lounge room and inspect my stocking to see what the fat man in red had gifted me. As the years went by, Santa's gifts turned from enjoyable to practical to truly pitiful. Now not to sound rude (i mean tis the thought that counts eh?) but a 24 pack of weetbix really took the cake for shittiest present. ever.

(holy shit i just rested my cigarette on my ashtray, and it must have made contact with my shitty shitty lighter, and well a fag can be a rocket with enough lighter fuel propelling it skywards. Shit. Lighter=dead.. But cigarette was recovered. Shit. could have been my face that got blown sky-high. and there is little room for pejoration in that department anyway... Note to self-it's all fun and games til the cigarette flies..)

Now back where i was.. yes, ripping santa to shreds. Although a sly word to mum "WOW, 'santa' really left the xmas shopping til late this year, now didn't he?" And an equally righteous response "Well maybe he thinks that at 15 you're getting a little too old to hang out your stocking??!!" ... Snap.

And even though i have been informed many times over that "nup nup we're not having christmas this year... too many fights. so much hurt.." blah blah i am bravely returning to my family home (armed with nothing but good cheer and a fluffy santa hat) to swim in the Yuletide and hopefully drown in a vat of Vino. yaaaaaarm.

SO the point i am attempting to make is that returning home implies a cut-down of smoking and the resulting jittery mess that i will become. Bah. But really, i had intended to quit on the 17th.. and although i attempt to plead ignorance, i DO realise that date has passed and i continue to smoke, but meh.

A quick one-day-down-next-day-back drive to sydney last week proved a little difficult... Our stops were limited to every 3 hrs or so...and when we DID stop dad refused to 'wait around while you have a fag!' ...going so far as reversing out of the Service Centre carpark and almost tearing off down south when i refused to get back in the car because i was still sucking my P.J ( okay... nice family. ) And although my smoking has not ceased, it has definitely dwindled down to half of what it was. Kudos to me right.. ? That said, with my blogging at zero and my smoking still steady, i am so so fucking behind it's ridiculous. Like super silly. But oh, i cant resist skippin about 20 packs and jumping to my latest conquest. Rollies. YEP.

Drum Light Blues to Be precise. And i cant believe how willing i am to admit that yep, they rock. Hands down the most practical way to smoke tabacco.

Attractiveness of Pack- Well, it's another totally different ballpark now, isn't it? (speaking of which, www.myspace.com/musicfromtheballpark.com ) It's like trying to compare a Kia to an Aston Martin. Laughable. HOWEVER i will say that the block blue print on the outside of the soft-pack pouch is a delightful shade. The ingenious push-button cross velcro? closure makes sealing it a breeze. The adhesive spot holds papers firmly in place and always at hand. All in all, and with no previous experience to compare it to, i'll award a fairly generic 3 just to play it safe..

Smoothness and Flavour- NEVER EVER have i experienced tabacco as smooth as this. It is so fucking obvious now that taliored cigarettes are convenient yes, but sacrafice so much smoothness and flavour in being so ready made...A tailored cigarette is like a succession of speedbumps in a car park compared to rollies. Shit. My dad was really onto something back in the day (it's funny, hypocricy must run in the family. Dad was once a pouch-a-day smoker, and yet now that he sucks balls and has quit, i am not permitted to smoke within a 10m radius of him. Nice eh.) SO smooth so flavourful, positive enough adjectives do not exist within the english language to express their awesome presence. Yet again, to allow for (possible but incomprehensible!) room for improvemement in other brands, i'll alot 4 out of 5

Burning Time- That's the brilliant thing about rollies! YOU decide. My control-freakish self is so relieved to finally have control over the one item most influential in my life-cigarettes. A cigarette for a long drive south? Pack that shit in fat and tight. A quick zing pow hit pre-bed? Lightly packed and thin. Whether i'm in a 'give me a big fatty' mood or delicate and gentle, I decide precisely how i want it. (hm. And that's the sort of control i seek in every other aspect of my life...) 5 out of 5! Total control!!

Lingering Taste- Penetrates every facet of my mouth. My tongue. My teeth. My my my everything. Remember the scene from Mission Impossible where (twitty twat fuck face) Cruise hangs on by one hand to a cliff overhang? yeah. Well, just as he did, the taste hangs on tight. fouroutta5maltumours.

Average Score for Drum Light Blue- 4 out of 5. Well, there is room for improvement. But i honestly feel as though i have a new lease on life with the discovery (and not a day too soon!) of rollies. So take that, life. I'm here to stay.

And i'm even getting better at rolling! there's nothing like successfully rolling a fag whilst driving down the freeway with your knees to make you feel like a decent person.

And furthermore, smiling cheekily at the Beach Patrol cop as he passes, eyeing off your suspiciously home-made cigarette and the wafts of smoke billowing from your gaping mouth. No sir, not high. Just so fucking happy to be at the beach.

Now bed calls me softly, i shall succumb to it (um after Seinfeld finishes maybeeeeee?)



Luf ffff fffff Miss.