'Cause everybody's got to induce vomitting sometime

Ah, summer, a time of utter vegetation. It's nice, like recharging your batteries to use a tired metaphor. Apparently it doesn't make much room for doing anything productive--at least not in my case.

But I do play poker. Over at Bodog.com, in fact, if anyone would like to (please) join me. In the wee hours of Wednesday morning, I collected my biggest single payout ever by finishing 4th in a $50+$5 tournament and winning $912. My second-biggest payout ever happened somewhere around the 15th, where I won another, much smaller $50+$5 tournament and collected $900 even.

It's a wonderful feeling.

To celebrate my latest achievement, I thought it would be appropriate to get in contact with John and Travis and smoke the cigar that Danielle's father kindly gave me when I went up to the Shire between the 2nd and 9th. John refused, of course, claiming douchebaggery and grocery shopping in Houston. And Travis could come, but would only be able to stay out for a little while. And so I went to fetch my friend. We stopped off at a gas station to buy a couple of crappy cigars for Travi and his friend Raul, who we'd be picking up along the way, so that they would be able to join the party.

And what a party it was! We drove to the park where we always used to play ultimate frisbee, where the benches were quite wet and the mosquitoes rather hungry. Once we arrived by the lake, I expertly bit off about a tenth of my cigar and lit most (but not all) of the other side. While trying to create but not even remotely approximating smoke rings, I managed to make my cigar nice and soggy, and there's only one cure for that. Bite off the wet part!

This happened several times while I was smoking that thing, but I didn't mind, especially towards the end, when a lack of oxygen to my brain or a nicotine rush or both made me feel rather buzzed. Unfortunately I couldn't really relish in the feeling because there was nowhere to sit except the sidewalk, which made a poor launching place for tobaccified saliva. As the buzz took full effect I started to feel a bit sick, and since my comrades were finished with their shorter, cheaper cigars, I invited them to get back into the car, where the mosquitoes dared not tread and the seats were soft and dry. And so I flung what little remained of my cigar into the lake like a jackass, and we went.

We dropped off Raul, and I implored Travi to join me for an after-cigar bite as we pulled into a gas station (incidentally the same one the cigars came from) so that I could put something into the car's nearly empty tank. Travi politely declined and I took him home, still feeling a little on the buzzed side.

When I got back I stumbled out of the car, feeling a bit more ill now than before. I made my way through the garage to the kitchen, where I fumbled for some Milanos and milk, which I figured would make me feel better. I passed my sister with a nod as I entered my room, sat down, and immediately felt quite nauseous. I eyed one of the cookies I'd laid out warily then quickly grabbed it and took a bite. I didn't feel better.

So I lay down. That wasn't too fun either, however, owing to the smell of smoke on my face and hair, and its taste, now mixed with Milanos, in my mouth. I half-wanted to fall asleep, but I knew that this had to be resolved before I did that--at least the taste had to be resolved, that is. It was getting worse by the minute.

I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and dump my milk. But as toothbrush touched teeth my stomach jolted, forcing me to pull the toothbrush away. I recalled that in my many bites of the cigar, it was possible and even probable that I'd swallowed some small bits. And I'd seen Sandlot. I knew what happened when you swallowed tobacco. I stared at myself in the mirror, knowing what had to be done. With the music from the song Everybody's Got to Learn Sometime running through my head with the adapted lyrics in the title of this post, I set to the task.

I could only bear to do it once, but I immediately felt a lot better. I brushed my teeth, did a full flossing, thus getting some small cigar particles out of there (yum!) and rinsed with dear sweet Listerine. Washed my face, came back to my room, ordered my computer to standby and went to sleep.

My mouth still tastes of smoke, and my shirt and hair undoubtedly carry a fair amount, and for some reason I woke up now, but I feel better.

And next time I will use a cigar-cutting method that doesn't involve teeth.

Hasta la byebye.