Day 36: Suck it up, Princess

I received an email about my last post, suggesting I shouldn't minimize my fight to quit smoking. Although others in the world may be facing greater and more painful challenges, addictions are a very serious issue for individuals and for society.

I have to agree. In fact, the woman who inspired me by working through the grief of losing her grandson to a drunk driver, was quite likely the victim of someone with an addiction--alcohol addiction. Addictions are the evil behind many criminal acts. [They have a prominent role in my crime novels which are previewed on my website: http://www.eileenschuh.com]

I did not intend last week's blog to minimize my addiction, my pain, or my efforts to quit. I believe, though, that I was attributing entirely too many words and exclamation marks to my weeping and moaning. I chose to start smoking and I chose to quit smoking. Lots of people, like the grandmother in my last blog, are hurting through no choice of their own.

So, what I was trying to say to myself was, "Suck it up, Princess!"

Although encouraging people to talk about their pains and problems is touted as a great stress reliever, studies have shown otherwise. During conversations about trauma, people react emotionally and physically as if they were actually experiencing the events. The moral? Sometimes it's best and healthiest to leave things be and move on--think about other things, other people, sunnier times, brighter futures.

To this end, I will briefly inform you--the cravings are much less frequent and less intense. My candy consumption is decreasing. And my husband has announced he is joining me in 'butting out' for keeps.

On a lighter note, I asked for tidbits of humour on Facebook and Twitter and promised I'd post on my blog the joke that made me laugh the most.

Thanks to Shevi Arnold for the following giggle: "Would everyone who believes in telekinesis, please raise my hand."

And, equally humorous, thanks to my cousin, Maureen, for the following laughs:

My face in the mirror isn't wrinkled or drawn.
My house isn't dirty, the cobwebs are gone.
My garden looks lovely and so does my lawn.
I think I might never, put my glasses back on!

A librarian admitted to hospital for surgery got this card from her associates: "If they take anything out make sure they sign for it!"

Funny Definitions:
BEAUTY PARLOR: a place where women curl up and dye
CHICKENS: the only creatures you eat before they are born and after they die.
EGOTIST: Someone who is usually me-deep in conversation.
TOOTHACHE: the pain that drives you to extraction!

Thanks, guys, for making me laugh!

Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
http://www.eileenschuh.com/

Another giggle...

I'll give you another giggle to help me deal with the pangs of withdrawal.

A string slithered down the street, under the door of a tavern, and onto a bar stool. The bartender leaned over and stared at the string.

"You're a string!" he finally growled. "We don't serve your kind."

Disappointed, and very thirsty, the string slithered out of the tavern and continued down the street to the next bar. He crept in and wiggled up onto a chair at a table. The bouncer came over, crossed his mighty tattooed arms, and scowled down. "String," he said. "We don't serve your kind."

The string sadly crawled back out to the street. There was one more bar at the far end of the block and he slowly made his way toward it. As he passed a shop window, he caught sight of his reflection. He was embarrassed to see his tail end was unravelling. "I'm so dishevelled, it's no wonder they won't serve me," he muttered as he tied a knot in his end, hoping to stop the threads from loosening further.

He crept into the last bar on the street and snuggled up into a booth. A waitress came over, put her hands on her hips, chomped on her gum, and stared at him. "Didn't you read the sign?" she asked haughtily. "We don't serve strings and you are a string, aren't you?"

"No," the string meekly replied. "I'm a frayed knot."

Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
http://www.eileenschuh.com/

I'll give you a giggle

A mad scientist made a clone of himself, but something went terribly wrong in the process. All the clone would do is stand in the upstairs window and shout vulgarities at people passing by. Nothing the scientist did had any effect on the clone’s persistent rude behaviour.

It caused the scientist great embarrassment because the clone looked just like him, and people mistakenly thought it was the scientist giving them the rude gestures. One day, frustrated beyond measure, the scientist pushed the clone out the window.

Seconds later the police arrived and arrested the scientist.

Charged him with making an obscene clone fall. . . .

(Is that a collective groan I hear resonating through cyberspace?)

Eileen Schuh,
Canadian writer
www.eileenschuh.com