Why my Favorite Sweater Smells like an Ashtray: Wyoming needs some smoking laws

and I don’t mean to protect the right to fill any room with noxious clouds of smoke.  Everywhere I go it’s hard to see through the haze.  My office.  Any bar.  The smoke clings to peoples’ clothes and then to me.  Have they not heard that smoking causes death?  I am surprised there are any people over 55 left in this state!  I think there’s two:  Al Simpson and Harrison Ford, but both of them travel often to less smoky climates to breathe in some oxygen.

I’m serious.  I threw on my favorite sweater this morning, sat down to blog, and EWWWW, what’s that smell?  It’s ME!  At least it cured my withdrawal symptoms from a couple of hours out sucking in the nicotine in the air at Whisky River on Saturday.  I’m seriously thinking about getting a portable air cleaner for my head.  Wait, that hasn’t been invented yet.  I’ve just given you a billion dollar idea Folks.  All I ask in return is a free one for me to use.  Just don’t make it look like a helmet I’d have to wear if I fell down alot.  I wouldn’t want people to wonder why I’m wearing it, although with all the coughing fits I’m having these days I might need one of those too, just to protect myself when I finally do pass out on the floor from lung cancer.

Sniffle.  Hack.  Hack.

I’m also thinking about setting up an oxygen booth in the garage like the ones they have in Mexico City.  Then I can get up in the morning, go out to get some air, and be thinner and happier.  Yes, that would solve ALL my problems.  Although smoking is supposed to keep you thin, if you’re not the one actually holding the cigarette and you’re just breathing in everyone else’s smoke, then you have your hands free to shovel food into your face in the hope that something might actually taste like something other than an old ashtray.

Well, at least I won’t be able to smell the kitty litter box that I’m about to go clean out.  Yes, I’m going to stop whining now and go do something.

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