Oh shit. I also forgot to say that I quit smoking. Now I'm just fucking boring and have a patch on my arm. It's a sad, sad day. On the positive side, nothing tastes good to me anymore. I don't like any of the food that I used to. My appetite has decreased. My girlfriend finds me less interesting and dangerous (unless I've not shaved, then I'm even more pathetic). My lymph nodes are swollen. I constantly feel like I'm about to get sick. I don't feel like my lungs are any better. I don't have as deep of a voice. I'm not tired and disaffected all the time (which is defeating the purpose of this blog). I'm feeling left out because of cool products, like this. I'm sad because I don't always know what it's like outside. I'm no longer recognized as a person who, despite of all known knowledge to the contrary, believes that smoking cannot possibly be that bad for you. I'm also wasting as much money on fucking patches as I was on cigarettes. I'm having extraordinarily vivid dreams about bizarre things with household items that I can't manage forget (imagine that).

The moral of the story is . . . ?