A Sincere Plea to my Wife
My Dearest,
I only wish you make the slightest effort in understanding my predicament. Whereas my love for you is absolute, and that I as a physical entity will do anything for you, there is very little I can do to interfere with the functions of my internal organs. They are obstinate little mindless creatures that never see the light of day, and reason, let alone, understand my love for you, and are ceaselessly involved in blindly doing the same things over and over until I turn into vermin chow.
For example, the endocrine system doesn’t give a rat’s ass if I bought you a fancy diamond ring. It just goes on secreting the myriad hormones into the blood stream while my brain is still screaming out in protest that I busted my credit cards 6 times over and that the banks have sent armed troops to recover the money. The screaming brain is gagged with the happy endorphins secreted with the help of the endocrine; when I see you, my lovely wife, gasp in joy at the wonderful gift.
Likewise, the digestive system doesn’t give a shit if I promised I won’t smoke in the loo. And ‘doesn’t give a shit’ can be truly discomforting in a sense far worse than sitting all day at work fully knowing my stomach is about to explode, with intermittent release of (in)digestive fumes that can induce temporary amnesia among colleagues, sometimes even coma.
If taking a couple of drags, can amicably persuade the snakes to let Mr.Pooper out like an avalanche, baby, trust me, I have slept with Angelina Jolie.
Ask anyone with a shut-up asshole. In the land of the constipated, Any Jolie comes way after the daily laxative. One deep drag of a king sized, releases enough endorphins making the brain happy enough to order the asshole to open up, and the day belongs to me, I know.
My love, by forbidding me from smoking in the loo, you are snatching away my fundamental right to expression……, if that big grin after a good session can be called one.
Millions like me suffer each day in this planet, silently fighting a grim battle each morning, to somewhat achieve sanity that is otherwise lost trying to stifle a ‘you-know-what’ all day.
Cigarettes are the penis of our Happy life., please don’t Bobb It!
Hope you understand?
Your Love
I only wish you make the slightest effort in understanding my predicament. Whereas my love for you is absolute, and that I as a physical entity will do anything for you, there is very little I can do to interfere with the functions of my internal organs. They are obstinate little mindless creatures that never see the light of day, and reason, let alone, understand my love for you, and are ceaselessly involved in blindly doing the same things over and over until I turn into vermin chow.
For example, the endocrine system doesn’t give a rat’s ass if I bought you a fancy diamond ring. It just goes on secreting the myriad hormones into the blood stream while my brain is still screaming out in protest that I busted my credit cards 6 times over and that the banks have sent armed troops to recover the money. The screaming brain is gagged with the happy endorphins secreted with the help of the endocrine; when I see you, my lovely wife, gasp in joy at the wonderful gift.
Likewise, the digestive system doesn’t give a shit if I promised I won’t smoke in the loo. And ‘doesn’t give a shit’ can be truly discomforting in a sense far worse than sitting all day at work fully knowing my stomach is about to explode, with intermittent release of (in)digestive fumes that can induce temporary amnesia among colleagues, sometimes even coma.
If taking a couple of drags, can amicably persuade the snakes to let Mr.Pooper out like an avalanche, baby, trust me, I have slept with Angelina Jolie.
Ask anyone with a shut-up asshole. In the land of the constipated, Any Jolie comes way after the daily laxative. One deep drag of a king sized, releases enough endorphins making the brain happy enough to order the asshole to open up, and the day belongs to me, I know.
My love, by forbidding me from smoking in the loo, you are snatching away my fundamental right to expression……, if that big grin after a good session can be called one.
Millions like me suffer each day in this planet, silently fighting a grim battle each morning, to somewhat achieve sanity that is otherwise lost trying to stifle a ‘you-know-what’ all day.
Cigarettes are the penis of our Happy life., please don’t Bobb It!
Hope you understand?
Your Love
posted by Susheel Nair at 10:06 PM
2 Comments:
Brother, u r in direstraits da. I am part of the clan who love smoke to while crapping. Shu, very few people understand the art of crapping. It is definitely heavenly especially with a ciggi at one end.
I can empathize ur situation. And i am really really Glad that you have chosen to talk about it rather than doing it on the sly. It makes everybody's life easier.
i really hope she reads it and lets u smoke atleast in the loo, legally.
If she reads this..... i'm sure she wud understand ur predicament.
Good Luck my brother.
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