01-26-2005, 03:31 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-26-2005, 03:35 PM by LemmingofGlory.)
I don't use tobacco, alcohol, or other drugs. I really have no desire to, either.
I have a friend that smokes, but we get together in public buildings where it's only permissible to smoke outside. That works for me. ;)
Another friend of mine told me that he recently began smoking/drinking when he needed to lessen his stress. I would not be surprised if either activity (or both) turned into a full-blown addiction since he's the sort that prefers to medicate himself rather than deal with his problems.
My mother's father is 80+ and has smoked a pipe practically forever. My mom smoked, quit before I was born, started up again when I was ~2, and then quit at some point when I was in elementary school. I had no opinion of smoking at the time; it was just something some people did. She, however, had grown to loathe it.
My father's father smoked for some period of time before quitting. He ended up dying of throat cancer despite having quit a few decades before. I don't recall how old he was, but I suspect he was no older than 65. My father has never been a smoker to my knowledge, but he's been an avid chewer. And...
CHEWING TOBACCO IS FREAKING NASTY!
I don't know how many of you have known or had to live around a chewer for any portion of your life, but it's just disgusting. My dad used plastic Country Crock margerine buckets as spitcans. For those that have never beheld the likes of this, the contents of a given spitcan can best be described as a unique texture that attempts to emulate a diseased bowel movement: black, leafy diarrhea. Dad was also rather absent minded with his spittoons. We kept finding used buckets around the house, in the garage, and in the attic long after my folks divorced, the blackened contents moldy and aged an untold number of years.
The smell of in-use chew tobacco is none too pleasant, either. My father's favorite "flavor" was spearmint. He'd sit in a room gnawing for hours, and in short order the room would fill with a sweet smell akin to dogpoop warming happily on a bright sunny day. It's a warm breathy smell, distinctly spearminty. It is for this reason that I will never eat spearmint again.
So, my family has substance abuse issues. I don't think it'd benefit me to pick up drinking, smoking, chewing, or other sorts of things. And, above all, I'll stay away from the goddamn spearmint.
-Dicrostonyx vinogradovi
I have a friend that smokes, but we get together in public buildings where it's only permissible to smoke outside. That works for me. ;)
Another friend of mine told me that he recently began smoking/drinking when he needed to lessen his stress. I would not be surprised if either activity (or both) turned into a full-blown addiction since he's the sort that prefers to medicate himself rather than deal with his problems.
My mother's father is 80+ and has smoked a pipe practically forever. My mom smoked, quit before I was born, started up again when I was ~2, and then quit at some point when I was in elementary school. I had no opinion of smoking at the time; it was just something some people did. She, however, had grown to loathe it.
My father's father smoked for some period of time before quitting. He ended up dying of throat cancer despite having quit a few decades before. I don't recall how old he was, but I suspect he was no older than 65. My father has never been a smoker to my knowledge, but he's been an avid chewer. And...
CHEWING TOBACCO IS FREAKING NASTY!
I don't know how many of you have known or had to live around a chewer for any portion of your life, but it's just disgusting. My dad used plastic Country Crock margerine buckets as spitcans. For those that have never beheld the likes of this, the contents of a given spitcan can best be described as a unique texture that attempts to emulate a diseased bowel movement: black, leafy diarrhea. Dad was also rather absent minded with his spittoons. We kept finding used buckets around the house, in the garage, and in the attic long after my folks divorced, the blackened contents moldy and aged an untold number of years.
The smell of in-use chew tobacco is none too pleasant, either. My father's favorite "flavor" was spearmint. He'd sit in a room gnawing for hours, and in short order the room would fill with a sweet smell akin to dogpoop warming happily on a bright sunny day. It's a warm breathy smell, distinctly spearminty. It is for this reason that I will never eat spearmint again.
So, my family has substance abuse issues. I don't think it'd benefit me to pick up drinking, smoking, chewing, or other sorts of things. And, above all, I'll stay away from the goddamn spearmint.
-Dicrostonyx vinogradovi