Ive mentioned before how completely clumsy and injury-prone I am. Last night, I took it to a whole new level. It went something like this:

Im thirsty and I want a glass of water. As I reach into the ice bin for some ice, I feel a sudden, sharp pain in my right pinkie finger.

Ow! I exclaim in surprise. Dwight, I think I just cut my finger on an ice cube.

This remark is met with rolled eyes and what sounds suspiciously like an exasperated sigh.

I absentmindedly set my now-forgotten glass on the counter and intently scrutinize my little finger. No blood yet. Then, there it is. At first just a trickle. Then more. And more. An almost shocking amount for an injury caused by frozen water. I wrap a paper towel around it and watch, mesmerized, as my blood soaks through. Dwight enters the kitchen, and I wave my wound in his face as proof that Im not making up such a ridiculous injury. Im almost proud. He tells me to go get a Band-Aid.

Never would I have imagined it possible to cut oneself on an ice cube. What bizarre new injuries await my accidental discovery? Ill find out soon enough.

****

In just over a week Ill be a Non-Smoker. Armed with two months worth of Wellbutrin, I face this challenge with reluctant resignation. Ive never felt more ambivalent. On the one hand, I really dont enjoy smoking anymore. I cough too much and my chest hurts in the mornings. My hair smells like smoke, not ylang ylang. I obsess about having a heart attack, and now after Peter Jennings, I obsess about lung cancer. Im burning away hundreds and hundreds of dollars that could be put towards a trip to Prague. Im tired of lurking in the stairwell like some kind of junkie.

On the other hand, I dont necessarily want to quit, even despite all those very good reasons. Ive been a Smoker since my freshman year in college, and its so much a part of who I am. Im a Dog Person. Im an Aquarian. Im a Brunette. Im a Smoker. Giving up smoking also seems a little like giving up part of my youth. For the last decade of my life, Ive been a Party Girl, always looking to stay out late and have a good time. Smoking just inherently FITS with that lifestyle, at least for me. Irrational though it is, I worry a little that smoking might be the last barrier, protecting me from what I dont want to becomea boring, responsible, ordinary adult. In my mind, it almost feels like Im trading my pack of Camels for a minivan and 2.5 kids. In my mind, there are only two versions of me: as I am now, and as I hope never to be. There is no in-between.

I have to quit, though. Its time. No more excuses. Ive quit before, and Ill do it againonly this time will be for good. I have the pharmaceutical artillery for backup, so the chemicals in my brain will be moderated to some extent. I hope I can get through this without harm to either myself or to others. And without weeks of whiny posts.

****

In addition to being a Smoker, I’m a self-proclaimed News Junkie. Ive been unable to pry myself away from the coverage of Hurricane Katrina. The last time I remember being so horrified, yet unable to look away, was 9/11. Ive thought a lot over the last few days about how lucky I am. How lucky I am that I have good homeowners insurance. How lucky I am that I have a dependable car. How lucky I am that I can afford to fill that car up with gas. How lucky I am that, should I someday be in the path of an oncoming hurricane, I have the means to load up my little hatchback with my husband, my dogs and whatever else will fit, and get out of the way. How lucky I am that once evacuated, I have family who would take us in, dogs and all. My heart goes out to all the people in the South who werent so fortunate.

Some of the stories that have affected me most are the ones about the people who didnt, or couldnt, evacuate and then found they couldnt bring their pets with them to the public shelters. As insane as it may sound, Im convinced that if I were in that situation, I would choose to stay at home with my dogs rather than leave them behind. Then there have been the stories about the pets who WERE left behind. I saw footage of a dog sitting on a rooftop all alone, trying to avoid the rising waters. I heard about two dogs who were left in crates atop the washing machine after the owners evacuated. That makes me sick. At least set them free, where they might be able to save themselves.

Then I heard about Noahs Wish, a non-profit organization designed to rescue animals after disasters such as Hurricane Katrina. They assist in evacuating animals before a natural disaster, and afterwards rescue animals still trapped in evacuated areas. They provide temporary shelter for homeless animals, and screen potential foster and permanent homes if necessary. They coordinate lost and found animals, and also the distribution of animal food donations. They network with veterinary services for sick or injured animals, and even provide grief counseling for those who may have lost their pets. It makes me so happy that an organization like this exists. I dont want to minimize the human toll of disasters like this, but animals are usually forgotten in all of the chaos.

Check out their website for more information, and on how you can contribute to this worthy cause.

I’m an addict. I have been for ten years. It’s expensive. It’s destructive. And now I must quit.

I got hooked outside of Walker Tower on a dark winter day with the help of a roommate.

I found my mother’s smoking habit to be quite repulsive and urged her to quit. And, then I became a hypocrite.

I smoked at a summer job in the yellow break room to make the job bearable and to see a cute girl who was in the yellow break room trying to make her job bearable.

I bought a carton that summer at Stax for $7.00. Now, I pay more than that when I buy just two packs.

I smoke when I’m happy. I smoke when I’m sad. Mostly, I smoke for no reason at all.

I quit once before. Cold turkey for two years or more.

Then a drag or two at Oktoberfest and my quitting was through.

A month ago I told myself to quit. This time I cannot afford to ignore. It seems so much more necessary than ever before.

I went to the doctor and he wrote on his pad.

I’m surprisingly sad to be losing this friend that I’ve always had.

I’m happy to know I’ll soon be free but scared to know how difficult it’ll be.

In thirteen days I will be a non-smoker.

Today’s question, simply put, is:

“MMMBop” or “I Wanna Sex You Up”?

I have to comment on the subject of obesity, and on the way overweight people are viewed in our society. Not to pick on Joel, or to say hes a mean, terrible person, because I dont think he is. And even if I did think that, hes still entitled to blog about whatever his pun-loving little heart desires. I just want to add my own perspective and thoughts on the subject.

To me, theres an insidiously sexist component to Fat Jokes that no ones mentioned yet. 9 times out of 10, the object of the joke is a fat woman. Its no real secret that fat men (and men in general) have it a little easier. Just look at television shows. James Gandolfini is considered a sex symbol by many women. Look at how many sitcoms star a schlumpy, average-looking comedian who happens to be married to a hot woman. Where are the shows featuring an interesting, attractive, intelligent, witty, size-14 woman? Or a size-22 woman? When fat women ARE portrayed on T.V or in film, its generally as the Best Friend of the attractive main character, or as the girl people pick on and make fun of. Interesting, attractive, intelligent, witty, size-14 (and size-22) women are out there, believe it or not, and might occasionally want to see characters like themselves portrayed in the media.

One more thing I was thinking recentlytheres a term, Chubby Chasers, for men who find heavier women attractive. Why is there no equivalent term for men who pursue thin women? Or for women who like heavy men? The very fact that there is a specific term for men who like bigger women implies that there is something wrong with itlike its some kind of sick fetish or something.

OKthats all of the society-and-media-directed ranting Im going to do. For now. Back to the topic of Fat Jokes.

I agree that some extremely obese people use their size to try and receive special privileges. Its fair enough to criticize that. But poking fun at someones ACTIONS is different than ridiculing that person just because of how they look, or god forbid, because they might have the audacity to eat in public every now and then.

A personal perspective: I, like a lot of people, have struggled with my weight since childhood. Ive been thin, Ive been fat, and Ive been every size in between. Ive been on so many diets Ive lost count. I was on Weight Watchers when I was ten years old. Id lose weight, but it would eventually always come back, usually with a little extra for good measure. People DO treat you differently when youre fat, and not in a positive way. Ive gone out with my thin girl friends and been completely ignored while men fawned over my friends and bought them drink after drink. Ive been limited to buying my clothes at only one or two shops. Ive had people tell me that I would be such a pretty girl, if only Id lose some weight. Even though Im married and not looking to be hit on, it still hurts a little to feel like you dont exist. It also hurts to have people imply that youre not pretty just because of your weight. Screw you. I think Im prettier now, happy and confident, than when I was 18 and weighed 125 pounds. I know who I am and I like that person. I think Im prettier this way than if I were a hollow, South Beach Diet-obsessed shell of a girl. Maybe Im the only one who thinks so. Oh, well.

Ive wasted too many years hating myself because I wasn’t thin enough. I heard Carlos Mencia say the other day that you should either be fat and happy, or lose weight. I think hes on to something. I like who I am, Im comfortable with who I am, and I know that Im much more than just a dress size. Sure, theres a lot I dont like about my body, but theres a lot I DO like. Life is far too short to spend it counting calories and suffering through crunches. OK, maybe I could add a few more years to my life if I ate better, drank less and exercised more, but would it really be worth it if I were miserable and hungry the entire time? I doubt it. BesidesI could become the biggest carb-counting freak in the world, and die in a fiery car accident tomorrow. You never know whats going to happen, and I would prefer to make as many moments in my life happy ones, and waste less time being concerned with things that really dont matter. So Ive chosen to be fat and happyand the men who might ridicule me because I choose not to be some pretty, shiny object for them to project their fantasies upon can kiss my fat ass.

My concern, though, is for the girls out there who might not be quite so secure with themselves. The girls who are absolutely terrified to gain five pounds because of how they think people will view them as a result. The girls who starve themselves into near-nonexistence so some shallow jerk might ask them out. Sadly, theyre partly right in feeling that dread. Fewer guys probably will ask them out, and the ones that do might be labeled and ridiculed themselves for being Chubby Chasers. This needs to change, and fat jokes are harmful in that they perpetuate this mindset. They also perpetuate the stereotypes that fat people (especially fat women) are stupid, ugly and lazy. That if youre bigger, youre somehow less of a person. No wonder girls are scared to death to eat. No wonder there are so many eating disorders in this country. No, its not fun to be the Big Butt of a joke.

People can joke about whatever they want, and I completely defend and support their right to do so. All I ask for is a little more sensitivity towards people who may not be the norm, whatever that is. Maybe think for just a second before you tell that joke, or before you tell someone shed be pretty if shed just lose weight. Besidesthere are so many things in the world to make good fun of (Pat Robertson, for example), without resorting to the easy targets and cheap laughs.

Having just returned from the White Stripes show, Sarah and Dwight head to Westport. Now…the thrilling conclusion of Jacuzzi Tubs, Gyros and Jack White…

11:54 P.M. - Back at the Dark Horse with another Fat Tire 1554. The only word I can find to describe the show weve just seen is orgasmic. Best show I have ever, ever been to. Much better than the White Stripes show in OKC a couple of years ago. There was a damn VIP section in front of us, so we were actually in the fifth row rather than the first. No matter. We were still so, so close to the stage. Jack White is my future second husbandhe just doesnt know it yet. I dont want to ruin this moment with words. I just want to savor.

12:09 A.M. - I am in an absolute, unequivocal, blissed-out state of nirvana. Today makes life worth living.

1:12 A.M. - Have I mentioned that the bars in this city are open until 3:A.M.? Were tired, though, and leave our $2 Tuesday spectacular and hunt down the much-lauded Gyro Truck. Buy a couple of gyros and head back to the hotel. This gyro is quite possibly the most incredible thing Ive ever eaten. Im tired.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

9:37 A.M. - I take one last dip in our giant whirlpool tub before we check out and head home. I slept like crapkept dreaming that I overslept and as a result, didnt have time for a bath. My stomach hurts.

11:17 A.M. - Late breakfast/early lunch at Minskys, home of the best pizza in the country. It puts Hideaway to shame. Dwight and I split a 5 Star Cheese Pizzafive different cheeses with Alfredo sauce, all atop the most perfect crust. Its a heart attack waiting to happen, but at least Ill die with a full stomach and a happy heart. Dwight and I look across the table at each other in silence, neither of us wanting to leave this city. We have a serious discussion about moving here.

2:36 P.M. - Were about halfway home now. The darkened sky and persistent drizzle mirror my mood. Yesterday was likely one of the best days of my life, and now Im filled with a profound sadness about assimilating myself back into Reality. To cheer myself up, I reflect on last nights show. Some people judge the quality of a show by how long the set is. Some people are morons. The White Stripes played somewhere between an hour and an hour and a half, but it was NONSTOP. They dont stop between songs, they dont regale the crowd with stories, they just ROCK. And they never, ever phone it in. Jack WORKS, and projects so much energy while doing so. I wish I were his guitar. Even with the what-was-he-thinking mustache and goatee, hes magnetic. I couldnt take my eyes off him. And Megs not bad, either. With her black leather pants and red peasant top, she’s adorably hot. They played probably half of White Blood Cells, which was cool, and we got the famous Boll Weevil encore. I was a little disappointed that there was no surprise Portland, Oregon duet with Loretta, and there was no Ball and Biscuit, but we did get Hotel Yorba and a blistering Death Letter. I felt like one of those crying, screaming, crazy pre-teens you might see at a Backstreet Boys show. My biggest disappointment was the crowd. Even the crowd at the OKC show had more enthusiasm. A woman in front of me even had the audacity to SIT DOWN halfway through the show. I was appalled, and came dangerously close to accidentally-on-purpose spilling beer on her head. You DO NOT sit down at a show like this one, especially when you have the good fortune to be in one of the first few rows. I was also a little embittered that my disposable camera (which I brought along for the sole purpose of getting some hot Jack shots) was confiscated upon entering the venue. Oh, well. It actually turned out to be somewhat liberatingnow I could just lose myself in the show without trying to get the perfect Jack Picture while simultaneously attempting to elude the watchful eye of Security. The venue, Starlight Theater, was terrific, though. Its an outdoor amphitheatre, and surprisingly pretty. It was a perfect night, too…weather-wise. The rain held off, and it was almost cold. Overall, Im convinced that if you werent already a White Stripes fan when the show begin, you were by the time it ended. Well, maybe except for the woman in front of me. Shes lucky she didnt end up with hair smelling of beer.

5:05 P.M. - Back in OKC, just in time to make rush-hour traffic on I-35 southbound. When will this construction ever end? Im excited about seeing our dogs after their stint at the Pet Resort (a.k.a. boarding kennels). Im not excited about going to work tomorrow, though. Thanks for a great time, Kansas City. Ill see you again soon. Like in a month, when my friend runs a marathon on your streets.