Why do random people feel the urge to give me advice? People I’ve never met, who don’t know me from Adam, or more appropriately, from Eve, seem to feel at liberty to give me their un-thought-out advice and opinions… about me!!
I smoke – there is is – hellfire and damnation upon my soul – blah blah blah, yawny yawny yawn. Build a bridge and get over it.
I read something recently that said “Smoking is the ultimate sign that a person is not coping”. Psychologically “they” meant.
Oh really? Do ya think? I would have gone for a few other things first.
Let’s try… um… heroin addiction, what about alcoholism (the obvious kind and the hidden high-functioning kind). Um… how about the corporate high-flyer addicted to coke (not the soda kind), or the spousal abuser, or the child sexual/ physical/ emotional abuser, or the hooker addict, or the poker machine gambler who blows their entire pension every week, or the habitual Xanax user, or the workplace sexual harasser, or the corporate monster who has no ethics, or the warmonger, or the racist, the sexist, the ageist, what about the rapist, the kidnapper, or the murderer… are they “coping” better than me ?
I smoke. I don’t do any of the above things !!!
So bugger off OK, if you’re one of those people who says to people you DON’T EVEN KNOW, “Oooo, naughty… shouldn’t smoke you know… it’s BAD for you!”
Oh, no shit Sherlock… what’s your next case Watson?
I always want to go into mock-shock and say…
“Oh hell, why the f**k didn’t anyone TELL me??”
“There’s no signs anywhere… there’s no information on the subject.”
“How could I possibly have known this?”
Apart from the fact that, buying cigarettes or smoking related paraphernalia in Australia is now akin to asking for the dirtiest, most violent and offensive pornography. (In fact the porn is probably more acceptable). It’s all “under the counter”.
“Psssst mate, got any baccy back there? “
The counter-person eyes you with a look (Australian Nanny Government mandated) that says you are FILTH. The Nanny Government Department of Adult Education runs courses that “shop people” go on, in order to achieve the correct mix of scorn, pity, derision and disgust.
Fool that I am (and given that I roll my own), after being handed a breath-wheezingly revolting packet of horrible, dry, pipey-smelling tobacco (the kind of thing a salty old sea dog like Cap’n Ahab might smoke), complete with it’s graphical wish for any number of chronic illnesses upon me, I was bold enough to enquire as to whether I might purchase, for a small price, made up of MY OWN MONEY, a packet of filter tips and some papers ?
The shop-counter-attending-person even put his hands on his hips !!!
He looked at me as if to say, “Now this really is a bridge too far – you dirty, dirty slatternly woman. Get thee to a Nunnery – a SMOKE-FREE Nunnery.”
Puff Puff Puff * (angrily).