KMA, Joe Camel

That rat bastard Joe Camel ensnared me over the weekend. It’s been a long time coming – I have been dying for a decent cigar with a tasty brew, plus the whole 119 daily insults of married life I am enduring right now has made my stress jump to 11 at a moment’s notice. So, I gave in to the hypnotic pull of Mr. Camel when I was out 4 wheeling. (It doesn’t help that everyone I go wheeling with smokes like a damn chimney). I smoked a handful of death sticks over the weekend, mostly like little cigars (not inhaling), sometimes like me as a teenager on the balcony of the people I babysat for. Tasted like shit (dry, stale, hot ash flavored, choking clouds of stink) as opposed to tasting like dogshit (that is a Pall Mall). And, no, I do not have any personal insights on the taste of dogshit, but I can identify it by smell, and can guess the rest.

Anyway, started a couple with a beer while grilling some steak and crab for annual hallmark holiday #12 yesterday. Not real satisfying. Joe lied! None so far today. *crosses fingers*

But, they are in my glove box.  And the matches are in my pocket…

7 thoughts on “KMA, Joe Camel

  1. Just remember, in England they call them fags. You put them in your mouth.
    Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

  2. Well, if you paid attention to the photo, you might realize that I would actually be putting them in my sock.
    Whatever that signifies.

  3. So what does it mean when you give one (a smoke, just so we are crystal clear) to a 1st Amendment artist to put in HER mouth? Anything?

  4. OK, took until last Tuesday, but I got through the package of deathsticks. At $83.00 a pack I couldn’t just throw them away, could I? Ain’t bought no more. I have declared victory.

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