Coca-Cola Se Prohibe Aqui -- Hoy, Baby, Hoy!

I'm doing okay with my new non-smoking existence. Mostly slept off and on the whole day, then finally rose for good from my dark cave and went outside to find a moon to howl at.

Had to resort to the Duane Reade brand of nicotine gum, which I purchased as a backup. Not chewing it as prescribed, but only as an "emergency" measure (as recommended by a friend). The effect is like baby bees buzzing on your tongue and gums. Actually, I don't like the effects of the gum at all; I caught a little digestive upset and reflux (but, of course, it might not be the gum at all). Looks like I'll need to get back to the melatonin as a sleep aid for a bit.

On the way to the pharmacy to get the gum, I passed a guy who was smoking, or, more specifically, I passed through his little swirling universe of second-hand smoke. I would like to say that the primary response was revulsion, but it wasn't. For about 3 seconds, I would have back-tracked and proposed to the dude just to get a puff (more like the whole cigarette) of whatever he was smoking. (Heh-heh-heh (that's the mad laugh of withdrawal).)

BTW, just broke up with that no-good bastard, the caffeinated, calcium-leeching, corn-syrupy Coke. Well, maybe I'll see him sometimes, just not every day. I have to tell you, the sound of that aluminum tab snapping and letting that fizz escape, the feel of that cold, sweating can between my palms, the first swig of the tongue-tickling stuff (hey, kinda like baby bees, too!). Oh my . . . No one should feel that way about anything except love -- or winning the lottery.

Got a big jug of water by my side filled with electrolytes. Got a cup by my side ready for de-tox and ginger teas. And the brand-X gum.