OMG...GMO

*GMO means "gross me out." Try and keep up.

At VS, a Clacker looked up from the table of cotton panties she was folding and asked me, "Do you smoke?"

Blecch. Nothing but 19 years of home training kept me from making a disgusted face as I answered with a pithy "Er, ah, I do not."

She continued her conversation with a fellow smoking Clacker, during which I found out that more of my co-workers light up than I knew, including one who I really do not like. Finding out she smokes gives me more reason to dislike her, so I couldn't even be too appalled.

Now, before hearts get all atwitter, I think we can surmise that I am one of the least-judgmental people on God's green earth. You wanna move to a nudist commune? Get an abortion*? Have a man-2-man wedding with Little Richard singing "Tutti Frutti" a capella as you walk down the aisle in matching purple catsuits? Fine! Send my invite and let's party! I have my opinions about other things, of course (Z-list fame-whores, porn stars, sexploitation in general), but if there is one thing that revolts me to the point where my like for you instantly goes down two points, it is the pulling out and subsequent lighting of that hateful little orange-tipped deathstick.

*Oh yes. I went there.

Don't get me wrong, though. If one of my friends started a Marlboro habit tomorrow, that is not to say I would, like, not be their friend anymore (I won't, however, date smokers) or anything. I'd put in my two cents and say that I find smoking reprehensible, and that would be it. I'm not going to constantly reiterate the importance of healthy lungs. It's their life, their lungs, do with it what you will. You have every right to smoke, and I have every right to find it gross. Such is the way of the world.

In my next post I will lighten the mood with shopping, movies, and other daily mishaps. There is raw footage of my interview with TAT at Warped Tour which must be uploaded on Youtube. Not to mention, I want to think more about that purple-catsuited wedding...