1,326.

That’s how many days ago I quit smoking. 5 years to some. 31,824 hours to others. Sometimes it feels like an age, others, an hour.

Couldn’t have done it without tireless support of the love of my life, Eve. The reason I know this to be true is two-fold.

One, I had previously tried to quit smoking nearly three dozen times — far as I can recall — with ZERO help from others in my life and, as you can conclude, ZERO success. And two, with her by my side, I can pretty much accomplish anything within earthly reason.

I helped a little too. And for that, I’m proud.

At this point, the only thing I miss about smoking, is the quitting.

Fuck 9/11 elitist flag-wavers, I was there. I don’t need you assholes telling me how and when to remember things.

It’s MY freakin’ holiday now!