usmcsis's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- an hour later... rule number one for working in a convenience store: (as told by someone who (a) has worked in several convenience stores, and (b) smokes)
rule number two:
more than likely they will take them anyway. (unless they don't really need cigarettes at that very moment and were just stocking up for later.) however, if, like most people, they smoked their last cig on the way to the store, they need a pack now, no matter what type of packaging it comes in. they can always attempt to repackage the new soft pack into their now empty hard pack, if, like me, they have a couple sliding around in the floor of their car. i should note, however, that it is humanly impossible to cram an entire soft pack of cigarettes into a hard pack box. yes, there are the exact same number of cigarettes. and yes, they are the same size. but somehow, you always end up with at least one that won't fit. but, since you're probably craving a cigarette anyway, that one really doesn't need to be in the pack anyway. thus ends our lesson for today... why does phillip morris insist on wasting paper, ink, time, and money on printing these damn "Information for Smokers" brochure-y things and gluing them onto the cigarette packs. who reads this shit? who in the world smokes and is not aware of the risks and/or effects? i was not released from a hermetically sealed capsule earlier today, and having spent the past twenty eight years of my life staring at the walls, suddenly decided that it would be fun, and probably healthy too, to take up smoking. after all, that dude standing outside the gas station door just hocked an impressive tar filled loogy. he was damn sexy. i want me some of that, bring on the nicotine! and i quote ... "there is no such thing as a safe cigarette. the terms "ultra light," "light," and "medium," and "mild," are used as descriptors of the strength of taste and flavor. these terms also serve as a relative indication of the average tar and nicotine yeild per cigarette, as measured by a standard government test method. the tar and nicotine yeild numbers are not meant to communicate the amount of tar or nicotine actually inhaled by any smoker, as individuals do not smoke like the machine used in the government test method. the amount of tar and nicotine you inhale will be higher than the stated tar and nicotine yield numbers if, for example, you block ventilation holes, inhale more deeply, take more puffs or smoke more cigarettes. similarly, if you smoke brands with descriptions such as "ultra light," "light," "medium," or "mild," you may not inhale less tar and nicotine than you would from other brands. it depends on how you smoke. you should not assume that cigarette brands using descriptors like "ultra light," "light," "medium," or "mild" are less harmful than full-flavor cigarette brands or that smoking such cigarette brands will help you quit smoking. if you are concerned about the health effects of smoking, you should quit." ... end quote wtf? they paid someone to write that? and then they wasted an assload of money to attach it to a billion packs of cigarettes? what smoker is reading that right now and saying holy shit! i better quit smoking right this instant! and then flushing their entire carton of cancer sticks down the toilet. none! that carton costs close to thirty bucks! and i bet that half the non-smokers in the world don't even know what half that crap meant. i don't mean that as an insult to non-smokers, but hell, just like fat people know more about nutrition than skinny people, smokers know more about the dangers of smoking than non-smokers. my favorite part of that informative tid-bit was as individuals do not smoke like the machine used in the government test method. i'm picturing this group of robots hanging out on the couch watching seinfeld re-runs or surfing the 'net chain smoking for days on end while a cloud of smoke hovers just below their ceiling. their ashtrays overflowing until some scientist in a hazmat suit runs into the room and hastily dumps it into a red contaminated waste trash bag and replaces it, nice and empty, on the coffee table. "hey, hazmat man! can i get another soda here? i've still got three packs to go until i can clock out for the day. and what about a pizza?" yeah, the cigarette company really wants me to quit smoking. i smoke a pack a day. at round-about three bucks a pack. three hundred and sixty five days a year. you do the math, i'm too tired for numbers. i tired of staring at the friggin trash heap that is my bedroom too but i probably won't do anything about it. i could say i don't have the time or energy to do it, but that would be a lie. well, the energy part is true. but the time part is definitely a lie. i don't have anything but time. i have all the time in the world. since i have no social life to speak of, other than reading the diaries of total strangers from around the world, and looking at items for sale on ebay until my eyes cross. and i don't think either of those things really count as social. but everytime i look at the pile of clothes folded and ready to be put away i just get so tired. or there is something else i could be doing. like, reading a book. or being online. or playing mah jong. see, i have so many different avoidance techniques. at least i have variety in my life. the year is over tomorrow. i am exactly twenty eight and a half today. what do i have to show for my life? six hundred plus pages on the internet and four hundred pennies in my piggy bank. woohoo! go me! i am tired of my life and yet lack the energy or the will to get off of my lazy fat ass and change it. no one is going to come in here and drag me out of my chair and force me to either. my parents have been trying for years and finally they just gave up. i have to do it on my own. most days i really want to. and i start a list in my head, and sometimes i even write it down, of goals that i'm going to acheive. things i'm going to do, save, have, say, change, whatever. and then i lose the list, and the willpower, and the interest, and i wake up one day and don't want to get out of bed and so i sit here in front of the monitor where i know i have "friends" who like me and say nice things to me and i don't have to go out into the world and actually meet people, god forbid.
what if they don't like me?
i sound like i'm in middle school don't i? this is my life and it fucking sounds like i'm in middle school! it's hot in here. or maybe my fever just flared up another notch. though knowing daddy, now that mama has gone to bed and i'm in here with the door closed, he's probably snuck a trip to the thermostat and turned it up a notch. or twenty. i need to be saving money, paying off bills, paying my mother back the money i owe her, and yet, i'm plotting now to go to target (where else) tomorrow and buy a new dvd player (on sale of course) and smuggle it home while my mom is at work. of course, before i can hook it up, i have to move the pile of shit that is blocking the bottom half of the entertainment center. that would involve getting off of my lazy, fat ass. see above. toodles. 10:16 pm - 30 Dec 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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