I am so STRESSSSSED!!!!!!!!

This post is going to be about feelings.  I’ve decided to write about feelings, my feelings, because I regularly hear from folks in the mental health field who suggest that we smokers are most likely to light up when we’re stressed.  The way these experts describe it, stress is a trigger for smoking.  Hmmmm — interesting theory.

Smoke first, then get dressed.

Smoke first, then get dressed.

I might be kidding myself, but it seems to me that I’m most likely to light up when I’m hanging out, one to one, with with a friendly, female hottie who’s a smoker herself.  In this scenario, ‘lighting up’ means me lighting her cigarette and — this is the really cool part — her lighting mine.

So, let’s break this down — it just might be that I’m a guy who’s terribly shy and awkward around women and I get really, really stressed whenever I’m with one.  I’m not actually aware of these feelings but, if you’ve ever been in therapy, you’ve learned that sometimes people bury their feelings in their unconscious and are actually oblivious to the their own motivations.  Could it be that I suffer from absolutely crippling feelings of shyness and awkwardness whenever I’m with a girl, feelings I’ve pushed far into the hidden regions of my psyche?  As they say on America’s Greatest Mysteries, “you decide’.

Man, I am one fucked up dude!

I’ve got myself convinced that I enjoy smoking and enjoy being with women and especially enjoy smoking with a woman.  That’s what they call ‘denial’.  This fog of denial has got me believing that I’m actually psyching myself up for a joyful experience in the hours and days before my date with a sexually appealing female.  I think I’m happy; but, in reality, I’m making a cry for help — a cry no one can here.  Kinda like Pagliacci.  No deceit like self-deceit, huh?

Of course, there are lots of times I get distressing feelings that I’m actually aware of.  I have an interesting response then — so let’s examine it.

Most of my distress comes from shame and embarrassment.  I’m really paranoid about people disapproving of what I do, or what I say.  My paranoia leads me to suspect that they’re keeping their judgments to themselves when I’m around; but when I’m out of sight they talk to each other about my inappropriate behavior.  “What a dick!” is a phrase that echoes through the canyons of mind.

That’s when I feel stressed.  And that stress comes up one hundred, maybe two hundred times a day.  Sometimes more.

OK then, how do I cope with all this distress?  Envelope, please.  Ah, I fantasize.  And what do I fantasize about?  Get a load of this: I fantasize about smoking!  Tee Hee.  Yeah, those head shrinkers were right after all; or half right, anyway.  Stress triggers thoughts about smoking.  I think about smoking for a little while and then, when my stress is relieved, I think about something else.  Truth is, I’m one lazy son of a bitch and if I can get out of having to actually get up and have a cigarette I will.  Besides, I’m cheap.  Smoking one hundred or two hundred cigarettes a day would start to get a little pricey.

So, here’s how it goes: I get frequent feelings of distress and when I do I think about smoking — but I have other stress relieving things to think about as well.  I like to mix it up.

Sometimes I think about having some healthful and nutritious food — a brownie sundae, for example, or a bag of potato chips.  Maybe a cheeseburger.  Maybe all of them.  Another thing I think about is getting high.  If you were paying attention earlier you know I tend to get paranoid so, more times than I’d like, when I get high I ‘freak out’ as they say.  So, in reality, I take a lot of time between visits to Mary Jane’s world — and when I do, I make sure I’ve got people on hand who are willing to deal with Charon’s Aide when he dissolves into a pulsating heap of tears and incoherent outbursts.

I get stress and think about smoking, or eating, or getting high.  Anything else?  Well, I’m a guy, so I can’t imagine it will come as too much of a surprise when you learn that I think about ejaculating my semen into a woman’s vagina.  Who’s vagina?  Don’t spread this around but I fantasize about my friend’s vaginas.   People I actually know.  Not just one friend’s vagina but many.  I keep them ‘in rotation’ so to speak.  Kind of like the way Top 40 radio keep album tracks in rotation.  I wonder what these girls would think if they knew that that was what I’m up to.  Maybe they’d think I was pervy and stop being my friend.  Maybe it would be kind of a turn-on.  I’d love to know, but my curiosity isn’t strong enough to actually ask anybody.

I also — if we’re going to be completely thorough with this investigation — think about drinking.  Drinking alcohol that is.  I don’t like beer, not at all, and I’m not too keen on wine either — so I think about drinking spirits, the hard stuff.  I think about having a cocktail, or two.  I don’t think about getting gassed.  I don’t like getting gassed any more than I like drinking beer; but I think about getting buzzed.  I think about giving myself a warm, peaceful feeling.

You know, the opposite of stress.

Peace and Humptiness,


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