Who Smokes In This Room?: 4.05
Who smokes in this room? That's the question of the day, kids.
When it's asked at you, it can be a discomforting question. The boss lady did this to me the other day, wrinkling her nose when I hung my head and copped to it. Fortunately, I had just saved everyone's collective a$$ with my amazing assistant superpowers, so she didn't complain further. I have a feeling I probably might've caught more flack had this not been the case.
When you're wondering who smokes in this room, who you might share a quick smoke break with, it can be aggravating.
You? No, too clean-cut.
You? Naw, too old.
You? You're pretty hot and, oh, you're pregnant. Dammit.
Look, I'm not exactly proud of the fact that I smoke cigarettes. But I'm still resting on my pride from the fact that I don't blow an eightball every weekend. So put that in your proverbial crack pipe.
But sometimes, especially during big meetings, all I can think about is having a smoke. Frankly, I blame the Beat Generation. I mean, when you're 18 and angry and someone tells you that society sucks and that drug experimentation and smoking are cool-- you listen. Even if that someone is a book.
So next time you're thinking about reading, take my advice-- stick to Jane Austen novels.