Cigarettes

Smoking is sexy with the right car/super hunk.

Smoking is sexy with the right outfit.

I could even fit cute package design in to my vintage agenda.

There's one particular spot in my apartment that smells like smoke. It lingers right above the bathroom sink. This means every time I go to do something that is for health purposes, like clean my face or brush my teeth, I have to rectify that this activity, for the next year, will smell unhealthy. I live alone, so, unless my dog has taken up the habit, I can safely say that no one is smoking in my house.

For the record, I smoke occasionally. My first cigarette was with my friend Chris, at a high school dance, sitting in the seat of a backhoe on the high school soccer field. (No, I'm not a red neck, yes I felt like a total bad ass.) My current smoker status is totally sporadic. I will go a year or two without a puff, and then one bad day and BAM! I'm lighting up. What saves me from becoming a real smoker is that i actually get a cigarette hangover. I wish I could say I will never ever smoke one again, but that's another blog all together.

I'll be honest in that there are occasions when I do enjoy the smell of smoke:

1. At a large, festive, outdoor gathering

2. When I'm young and impressionable and have a crush on a boy who happens to smoke (primarily, see years 1995 - uhhhh, present.)

3. When I'm in a foreign country, and the smell of cigarettes add to the, um, foreignness of the experience.

The "good " cigarette smells, are really outweighed by the bad, in my book.

1. When people return from smoking in the rain.

2. When people try to cover up the smell of cigarettes with body spray. (Which I oddly don't mind on my friend Sarah)

3. When I'm sick.

4. The smell of a chain smoker's car.

5. The smell of cigarettes on my clothes after being at a party or bar where a lot of cigarette smoking happened the previous night.

and of course....

when the smell of cigarettes creeps in to the most sacred place in my home, and I'm not even the one smoking.