A couple days ago, this:
MAN (kinda barging into Boheme, demanding): Do you have any matches?
ME: Uh, no.
MAN: A lighter or something?
ME: Sorry. No.
MAN (exasperated sigh): Jeez, how do you even advertise, then??
ME: Well, I just dangle coffee cups from my bo*obs, go outside, and shake ’em around.
(You thought I really said that, didn’t you? And now you’re disappointed to find out I actually didn’t, right? Yeah, well … me too.)
Now today, different dude:
MAN (same bargy vibe as other guy): Do you have any matches?
ME: Uh, no.
MAN: Matchbook?
ME: No, sorry.
MAN: A LIGHTER??
ME: No, I’m sorry. I don’t smoke.
(pause)
MAN (pawing frantically at his arm): Well, this patch is NOT WORKING. NOT WORKING!
He storms out. Moments later, I see him out in front, hands shaking, smoking a cigarette.
Crikey. Something must be in the air (and not cigarette smoke).
“How do you advertise, then” hahahahaha. Considering that only about 30% of adults (last I checked) smoke, matchbooks are probably not the most cost-effective form of advertising any more.
(You know? You could perhaps commission the dicey painter-guy to paint you a couple of nekkid women with coffee cups dangling off their bo*obs if you wanted to go that route.)
Where I live, the local hospital is (Finally) going entirely smoke-free; they have been trumpeting every day in the paper their “count down to smoke free status.” There is something like 170 days left to go. I’m all like, “Why not do it now and save us all the agony of reading your self-congratulatory prose?”
Hee hee–dangling coffee cups. I’m sure they’re *spectacular*. Well, there was that guy on Project Runway who designed a dress out of coffee filters.
Maybe the staff needs 170 days to complete their smoking cessation programs, Ricki. 🙂
There is something to the going off smoking and being really, really speedy/anxious/jittery. A lot of herbal remedies include chamomile. Of course, I’ll never forget the early days of my aunt’s (final) quitting–she’d call up talking a mile a minute and say stuff like, “IjustcleanedtheentirehousetoptobottombutIrealizedIcan’tfindmybroomandIreallywannafinishcleaning.” Good grief that was scary.
snicker.
Here’s an idea. Instead of keeping matches on hand buy some of those patches–the strong ones. Next time someone asks for a match just pop ’em in the forehead with one of those babies.
I’ve wanted to do that to my husband several times. 🙂
Thank you for helping me to laugh today.
“Aaaaah! My lungs! The patches do nothing!”
Whoops, my impression of my frenetic aunt kinda ran off the page.
That is so like her.