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I am a weak, weak person. At around 7 PM this evening, I succumbed to the call of the cancer stick. It was bed weather. Traffic along the South Luzon Expressway was moving slowly. I was listening to Concrete Blonde’s version of Ghost Riders in the Sky. I couldn’t help it. One week after I vowed to fight the good fight against Nicotine, I lost the battle. BUT NOT THE WAR!

I’m thinking maybe I did it wrong. I went cold turkey after 5 years of being a chain smoker. I never stopped smoking for more than a couple of days during the last 5 years, and now I suddenly expelled nicotine from my life. It was hard. Harder than saying “no” to free beer. Harder than not looking at a hot woman’s cleavage. Harder than closing a browser tab that contains your Plurk window. Going cold turkey wasn’t fun. It was torture. Happy torture. What?

I couldn’t ignore all the moments I felt the urge to light a stick and smoke my lungs out. I felt anti-social passing up on invitations to smoke from my co-workers. Every time I reached for a stick and found nothing there, I whispered expletives to myself. “Fuck you, self! The fuck’s your problem?!” But every time I resisted those seductive moments, I celebrated with a stupid smile. Happy torture. Weird, but there you go.

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For weeks — nay, months! — I’ve been seriously considering quitting smoking. What prevented me from succeeding was the stupid reason of not having someone to constantly police me, aside from my family of course. You know, a girl. I know, I’m the biggest attention whore ever. So yeah, the continuation of my love affair with Death is all because of the 3rd Stupidest Reason Not to Quit Smoking ever: “I don’t have a girlfriend to keep me in line.” (The 2nd is “I really like cancer!” and the 1st is “I don’t care about the feelings of Jesus.”)

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It’s so freakin’ hot. Seriously. Cheryl Cosim said this morning that today, the temperature could reach 37 degrees Celsius. I suck at Science so I’ll just have to assume that that temperature is hot. Scorching even.

I always think hard before I decide to take a cigarette break during work. If I smoke, I’d have to endure the heat on my face, the sun on my bare head, and the stink of perspiring fellow smokers. I smoke anyway since I’m a slave to the nicotine. Feh.

This summer, there are only two options for me to keep myslef cool: the beach and white-hot ladies in bikinis, or an air-conditioned room, with a bunch of comics. If only life was that simple. *sigh*

What’s fun with the intense heat, though, is that when things get hot enough, you start to see things that aren’t really there. A mirage. It fucks with your brain. It changes your perspective. It gives you the hope of finding an oasis. Most of the time, you get disappointed. But sometimes, when you least expect it, you get surprised. There it is. Something real out of something that’s supposedly just bullshit.

Anyhoo, it’s been a slow week in the comics haul department so let’s just get on with it. SPOILERS ahoy!

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