2006-11-02
twitches
The title for the day references the odd movements my legs have been making this eve, not the Disney Halloween Movie that aired the other night starring Tia and Tamera.
You see Father, it's been four days since my last cigarette. STUPID carcinogenic sticks, WHY do you enthrall me so?!
The other day, as we watched a TiVoed episode of Ghost Whisperer...No, I'm not a 15 year old female, why would you ask that? Shut up. It is true that Melinda's husband is required to be shirtless at least once an episode and that he's quite easy on the eyes. Even with this season's new haircut- the one that's trying a bit too hard- he's still worth two drinks.
I'm also a sucker for any supernatural fare that keeps the gore level low. Hence my ready knowledge of Twitches...hmmm...maybe there is an inner 15 year old girl struggling to be heard.
Seriously though, I shouldn't perpetuate that particular stereotype. It would be easy enough to digress at this point into a gender studies discussion about the arbitrary entertainment boundaries set by society. (and those marketers seeking to pigeonhole us all into certain demographics)
Yes, it's true, I have met the enemy and he is me...well not really, isn't the goal for most of us to have more consumers instead of less? That would explain why for every shirtless Jim shot, there's a shot of Melinda in a revealing nighty or lingerie-inspired dress, right? Maybe marketing folk just want us all to get along and like the same things. You know, be equal, homogeneous, safe, boring...oh dear, no matter how you slice it, it's still B-O-L-A-G-N-A.
Where was I? BOUNDRIES. Boundaries that determine that certain programs can be considered quite proper entertainment for one subset of the population, yet decidedly eccentric for another. Sadly, the need to even type these paragraphs in proves that those boundaries are still much too firmly in place, and it'll be many a day before The Hulk and My Pretty Pony share screen time. (Robot Chicken aside.)
Forthwith, I declare that no demographic divider, be it gender, age or other, should force anyone into a certain block of entertainment...but I drift further away from the point of this entry and having already, rather desperately, used up my daily allotment of "forthwith", I'd best get on with it.
DAMN! I want a cigarette.
POINT BEING. Four days. No cigarettes. A few nights back, first night with no smoke, a character on Ghost Whisperer went outside with a cigarette at a traumatic moment and just went through the motions of smoking without lighting it. I thought to myself...hmmm, I kinda get that.
That was then. Tonight I fully understand the urge to go through the motions, but fear the relative ease of lighting the sucker should I try to play a game of chicken with him. After all, my pride's at a low ebb and I'd be more likely to swerve first.
I can't even slurp on a beer or sip slowly on a glass of wine to chill me out. Drinks and the satisfying smoke are as magnets ever pulling towards each other. Neither feeling quite complete without the other there to hold its hand.
So, I'm off to chomp on pretzel sticks and day old Halloween Candy (another magnetic duo.) BUT before I go, let me state quite firmly that the first non-smoking person to encourage me on my quest will be summarily dismissed...and I then promise to light one up in that persons' honor. And if I should succumb and smoke again, I dare you nonsmoking lot to say something. I'll blow rings right into your face.
It may sound unkind, but only the truly initiated can understand what I'm missing. The rest of you, zip it.Labels: dose of mikey, medical mystery, random review, sharketing
* posted by me at 12:19 AM
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