Smoking electronic cigarettes wellington, fl

I haven't been smoking for around a week. As far as cravings go, I'm doing okay. My main problem is that I can't organize my day without cigarette breaks. Each thing that I would do like eat/do chores/study would've been always before or after cigarette, it serving as some sort of cue to start doing things, or that it's finally time to move on to other thing. Without that I'm genuinely lost, I can't bring myself to do anything, because it's like I'm constantly waiting for that cue signal (aka smoke break). I haven't been this lazy, unmotivated and unproductive ever.
Any advice on what to do?

I have been addicted to cigarette and Marijuana in my college days, I have done it for 3 yrs, after my college my gf has broke up with me and got in a relationship with her boy bestfriend, that broke my heart I have quit marijuana and cigarette and alcohol as well from then, got a nice job and currently working,it's been 3yrs I have quit smoking and all addiction's.
recently I have met a classmate from college whom I have smoked weed just randomly at that time and I remember there were some recordings as well when we smoked, Now I am scared about my future and my relationships with Friends and relatives that, if somehow those recordings come out, I am not a famous person but my current position and work will put me in a better social status in coming days
I am worried if those past recordings or photos would impact my career and I want to know how to deal with it..

VAPE REGULATIONS 2024
Feeling uncertain about the 2024 vape laws and regulations? You’re not alone. We’re also navigating through some unclear aspects of the proposed regulations, but here’s what I know so far.
This post aims to provide you with the latest information on the 2024 vape regulations, along with articles for more details.We strive to keep you updated. If you’ve subscribed to my email list, I’ll notify you of any major changes to the store.
UNCHANGED REGULATIONS These regulations will remain the same: - You must be at least 18 to purchase any vape product. - A prescription is required to buy nicotine vaping products. - Selling pre-filled disposable vapes with nicotine is illegal in Australia except through pharmacies.
VAPE REGULATION CHANGES The proposed 2024 vaping regulations, introduced in late 2023, include the following changes (as I understand them).
FROM JANUARY 1: - Ban on importing disposable vapes (pre-filled and single-use). Individuals cannot import disposable vapes, but businesses can if they hold a license and permit from the Office of Drug Control (ODC). - We can continue selling nicotine-free disposable vapes we have in stock after January 1, but cannot import more. These vapes are always nicotine-free; safety reports are available upon request. - All doctors or nurse practitioners can now prescribe nicotine vaping products without needing approval from the Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA). It's at their discretion to provide these prescriptions.
FROM MARCH 1:

• Ban on importing all vape products, including e-liquid (with or without nicotine) and hardware, by individuals, even with a prescription. Businesses will need a license and permit from ODC to import and must notify TGA of each product's compliance with their standards (see the current list of notified vapes).
  
• Vape stores can continue selling the nicotine-free vaping products they have in stock after March 1, but cannot import more without the necessary license/permit and TGA notification. It's uncertain how long this will be allowed.
  
• Imported vape products from March 1 must meet new device and e-liquid standards and only be sold in pharmacies with a prescription.
  
• All vape products will be classified as therapeutic products for smoking cessation or nicotine dependence management (formerly classified as smoke products under the same laws as cigarettes).
  
• The personal importation scheme will end, prohibiting individuals from ordering nicotine or nicotine vape products from overseas, even with a prescription.- New device and e-liquid standards set by TGA.
  
• Limits on flavours to mint, menthol, and tobacco for vape products imported after March 1.
  
• Existing vape businesses wishing to stay in the industry will need an import license and permit to supply pharmacies.
  

AFTER MARCH 1: The Therapeutic Goods and Other Legislation Amendment (Vaping Reforms) Bill 2024, introduced to parliament on March 21 by the Minister for Health and Aged Care, needs to pass through Parliament to enforce the following:

• Retail vape sales ban starting July 1, prohibiting tobacconists, vape stores, and convenience stores from selling non-therapeutic vapes.
  
• Ban on importing, manufacturing, supplying, and commercially possessing disposable, single-use vapes and non-therapeutic vapes. If the bill passes, illegal vape manufacturers and suppliers could face fines up to $2.2 million and seven years of jail time.
  
• Additional penalties for importing, manufacturing, supplying, advertising, or possessing vaping products contrary to regulations/law, including fines and prison time.
  
• If this bill passes through Parliament, vape stores will have to close to the public from July 1.
  

BILL PROGRESS
The Vaping Reforms Bill was debated in Parliament on March 27, with many Ministers expressing support or opposition. The bill was referred to a Senate Committee of Inquiry to determine if Australia should proceed with the proposed bill and prescription-only model or move towards regulating vapes like cigarettes.
The committee received around 300 public submissions and held two public hearings, calling witnesses from those who submitted feedback.The Senate Inquiry Report was published on May 8:

• The majority recommended passing the bill.
  
• National Party Senators published a 'Dissenting Report,' opposing the bill and recommending regulation similar to tobacco products.
  
• The bill must now be voted on by Senators in the June parliamentary sessions.
  
• Dr. Colin Mendelsohn's recent blog post detailed each politcal party's positions on the bill and the next steps that will determine its future. The National party opposes it, the greens wish to amend it, some independents will vote against it and the labor party supports the bill. (Summarising his opinion: it's currently about 50/50 in support or opposition of the Reforms Bill. Also stating he is cautiously optimistic. This may be determined by political back door deals and then if not, the greens will likely decide the result).
  

I will update you with any further information as it presents.

I was a passionate smoker for about 13 years. I quit cold turkey and it was great for 3 years. I started about a year ago again. Smoked for around half a year then quit again for 3 months. Then I started again. Every cigarette I smoke I feel bad about it and I am not smoking a lot. I smoke mostly with friends when we grab coffee or something to drink. It’s 5-10 cigarettes a day.
I don’t know how to stop. I just want to quit after every single cigarette I smoke.

The drinking age should be 18. If family approves. better then some countries that the age is a lot lower.
Vaping should be banned. I feel like it does similar damage the regular smoking. And it doesn’t make you stop smoking. Just makes you wanna vape more.
Smoking should be banned in all public places. It’s annoying/disrespectful having cigarette smoke all in your face and having to inhale. Not to mention some people don’t care if there’s lil kids around.

.

I’m 43 and I’m way past the age of getting my shit together. I still smoke cigarettes, drink mnt dew, don’t excerise, don’t eat right, don’t meal prep, I buy lunch at work instead of bringing something, I spend to much money on stupid crap on Amazon, I don’t have any hobbies besides video games, I watch you tube mostly in my free time, don’t have a girlfriend, live with my parents again for the past two years, don’t pay rent like a scum bag, I don’t help with groceries, and I still spend time on porn hub.
How the fuck do I stop being such a loser and start being someone I’m proud of? Do I need therapy to get better or how do I fix this?

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
First/Previous
Archive

• Rob Weiss is her favorite ex-boyfriend.
• He’s the one person that was a good guy, talented, creative, and inspired her a lot. They were together for 7.5 years.
• He feels the same way about her.
• He liked her dad.
• Her mom and Weiss got along well. Her mom painted a house (her own? Weiss’?) and wanted to see Weiss’ reaction.
• Doherty avoids obstacles now, instead of trying to plow through them.
• He was on vacation in 1991, and met her at Bar One. He knew who she was. He had wanted to go into the film business.
• He made a movie, went to the Sundance Film Festival, moved to L.A.
• 2 years later, Doherty was married. Doherty started dating him around 1994.
• They moved in together quickly after Doherty left her first husband.
• They got together right before her 23rd birthday.
• He was not successful, but not a failure. He wrote “Milk Bar”. He did “American Psycho”.
• They watched Clerks together.
• Doherty says he introduced her to the indie film world.
• They were engaged. But after her first marriage, she believed a piece of paper doesn’t mean anything.
• Doherty’s mom still wears her wedding band, even though Doherty’s father died.
• They connect with each other on a soul level.
• He has a child with another woman.
• Doherty learned she needs to listen to her gut.
• They broke off the engagement a week before the wedding.
• Doherty was still following what was happening with her first husband.
• Marriage is an antiquated notion to Weiss.
• There’s no woman that’s more important to him than the mother of his child. They had dated for 3 years. But he doesn’t need to marry her.
• Doherty says Weiss is a Math Changer. (See the podcast with Doherty and Les Snead).
• Rick (another ex) was a Buyer Beware.
• Weiss says Rick has different demons. But he’s a cool cat.
• Weiss loves his dad, but he would categorize him as a toxic male. He smoked until he had lung cancer. He served in the military.
• Doherty loves Weiss’ dad.
• Doherty still adores both Rob and Rick.
• Doherty’s soul connection with Weiss will always be there.
• Rob gave Doherty the diamond heart necklace that Prue wore on Charmed.
• Weiss still has some necklaces and rings that Doherty gave him.
• Doherty had a tattoo with Weiss’ name on it. She eventually covered it up with flowers. Weiss did not want to get a tattoo with her name on it.
• He now has tattoos. Such as his son’s name. Since he likes tattoos now, he thinks maybe he would have gotten Doherty’s name on his neck, if he had to make the decision again.
• The best moment they had was in Venice, Italy. They went to get something to eat late at night. The streets were dead. Some guy started to talk to them. They told him they wanted food. They followed him. He directed them to two other people. Doherty thought they were going to get robbed. Eventually they were lead to a restaurant. It was a 24 hour restaurant. And the food was delicious.
• They went to Amsterdam. They ended up at a hostel with 5 beds in a room. She didn’t want to do that.

​

• Doherty thinks it’s hard for Weiss, because he can spend 2 years writing a show. Then he pitches it, and the people he pitches it to don’t like it.
• Weiss tries to work on 10 things at the same time.
• If he had spent 2 straight years working on only one thing, it would hurt him more.
• Doherty had a birthday party at a bar, where there was a fight.
• They had only been dating for 10 days. They started on April Fools Day.
• Greg Vance gave Weiss a weird look. Weiss went up to him and his people and asked if there was a problem. He turned around to his right, and got headbutted on his nose.
• The fight spilled out onto the street.
• He doesn’t roll with a large posse anymore.
• He stopped drinking 5 years ago.
• He loved red wine.
• He can’t be hungover at 7am, with his kid, anymore. He had to set a better example.
• His son is his dad reincarnated.
• He’s been nominated 3x for Entourage.
• Doherty just found out Weiss was nominated at the Sundance Film Festival for Grand Jury Prize.
• Doherty was so excited when she, Jason Priestley, and Luke Perry presented an award at the Emmys.
• Weiss thought Entourage was going to be horrible. He didn’t think the audience would connect with the show.
• Doug Elin had wanted Weiss to play Billy Walsh.
• Weiss’ first impression of Doherty was that she was his dream girl. She was fun. She was spicy. She smoked cigarettes like a fighter pilot. Sexy, great style. Amazing cook.
• Doherty wants another relationship. She just doesn’t want to get married again.
• Weiss does better in life on some nights when he can take a bubble bath, get up at 5:30am, and does what he needs to do, without having a conversation.
• Doherty agrees, so why can’t there be a relationship where Weiss doesn’t move in with someone, and they keep their separate places? So they can have off nights as needed.
• He thinks the guy should be older, but has nothing against men who are with women 20 years older. Whatever fits one’s preference.
• He just wants a positive energy with someone.
• He’s not looking for someone to go on a cruise together with.
• Weiss and Doherty dated for 2 - 3 years before they got engaged.
• The proposal was basically Doherty going “give me the fucking ring”.
• When they were in Italy and France together, Weiss ran into an old friend. That friend was with his girlfriend, who had a 5 carat ring. Doherty then wanted a ring. So they got that friend to make a ring.
• Weiss asked for her parents’ blessing.
• Her parents heaped concerns on him.
• Weiss was surprised, because they had been dating for 3 years.
• Their relationship was from right after she left Beverly Hills 90210, to right after she left Charmed.
• She stopped living with him at some point, and got her own place.
• Dick Wolf offered Doherty a show after Charmed. But she had to move to New York. She didn’t want to do that. She was in love. Her parents were in LA. She says she was an idiot for turning it down.
• They were on again, off again a few times during those 7 years.
• Dating was more pure back then, compared to now. Now it’s transactional. Dating is now only with people that can help someone.
• Weiss calls it opportunistic. And leveraging.
• Now, people develop a fantasy relationship with someone. Then they meet them, and it’s different.
• It was easier back then, because you dated people you knew, from within Hollywood.
• Weiss has supported Doherty during her cancer.
• Weiss was devastated when Doherty’s cancer came back.

Please note I am NOT soliciting or procuring. This is a general question:
I’m in Marseille and I like to smoke nature’s cigarettes. I found a very responsive channel on telegram. Is this likely to be a scam?

My Grandmother is a Caucasian, 70 year old woman, no medication, probably between 4’11- and 5’1, about 160 lbs ( Not sure, she’s got thin arms and legs, and while her body isn’t thin, it’s not really heavyset. She has no problem with her mobility, maybe just slower walking, has a bad hip but refuses to take any medication of any kind for any reason, and is a HUGE chain smoker. Probably one or two packs a day. This would explain her infrequent but still noticeable, phlegmy cough from time to time.
I don’t know everything about her past but I know some: One of seven children, parents used to scream a lot, she used to cry in bed with her sister when it happened, told me she stayed away from home as much as she could, started smoking at about 12 years old, got pregnant with my dad at 15, became a mom at 16, by all accounts was the best mom ever, biking, reading, dancing, encouraging my dad to try new things, but still moved around a lot, and kept going from house to house, to trailer, etc.
When she was about early 20s, she met and married a guy who she later divorced because they had a kind of culture clash. I don’t remember exactly what he was, but he was very controlling of her, forbidding her to wear swimsuits, or going anywhere without him, and eventually he threatened her several times with knives and a hand around her neck. Never did anything but she was afraid of knives for a very long time afterwards.
She met my grandpa, and I guess things were fine until after she had my aunt. Sometime after she was away from home as much as she could by way of bingo.This led to her using what she could out of her own paychecks until she came after my grandpa’s, who let her. He sold stuff around the house and eventually asked people for money. Sometime after being married to my grandpa she randomly developed night terrors and sleepwalking. Full on waking up and screaming, full on walking outside and screaming. I guess it just stopped. Was controlling of my aunt, didn’t want her trying new foods, didn’t go out or do fun things with her like she did with my dad.
Nowadays it is well known that nobody wants to live with her, but she’s not like abusive or stealing. But here is what we have noticed:
Heavy chain smoker. It doesn’t look like she even finishes them, she goes like halfway, stops, lights a new one.
Can’t or won’t sit and watch a movie or show. Will start one, get up and do laundry, take care of the dog, check her phone, play on her phone, and will full on have a conversation with you or someone when she was the one who wanted to watch the movie.
Frequent gambler. We just went on a cruise to place she’s always wanted to go and she spent a good chunk either smoking or gambling.
Very annoyed with the smells or steam of foods to the point where she’ll complain or get up and move. My grandpa famously only had seafood twice while married to her and he loved seafood.
Very irritable if she goes a while without a cigarette. She was pretty rude in the airport.
Gets annoyed easily when starting to board or get off the plane. Will full on loudly complain about the heat or cold. Kept asking my dad to open window, close window, turn ac off, turn ac on. Whiny.
Restless, seems like she can’t sit still or focus on anything in a climate where she has to sit and be quiet. (Planes and shows)
Known to start fights about pretty much anything that she doesn’t like. It is all about her from the thermostat, the entertainment, the volume, food, etc very difficult to live with
Very dramatic. Complained she was so cold on an excursion she couldn’t move her leg, and then refused to see a doctor about a numb leg. Said she’d just take a shower and then was suddenly all better about an hour later when she was smoking. Never showered, shrugged it off by saying she’ll be all right.
Dramatic in a little kid version. Like when a two year old is confused or thinking, they’ll scratch their head, purse their lips. Like their mimicking confusion verbal cues? Like they’re thinking this is what we do when we’re confused so this is what I will do. She seems to react to things dramatically and like a second or two after a proper reaction time?
A dog barked and her whole body moved in startled matter. If she hates something she eats, she makes an audible grunt, forces a sad expression in her face, holds a napkin to her mouth, and will dramatically push the food away. It’s not just dramatic, for some reason it makes me think of a toddler going through the motions so to speak.
Will sometimes ask us questions and then immediately talk to someone else or walk away and do something.
Says she’s an introvert who doesn’t like talking to people, but actively makes a point to talk to people. Not in a rude way or anything, just likes talking to people. Not sure if that means anything but I’ve always noticed that. Why would you say you dont like talking to people if you actually do?
Has quit a few jobs for silly reasons, and made impulse buys, like a new car when she obviously can’t afford it. Even back when I was a kid, she was known to gamble nearly everything, and could never afford anything, even though she made decent money.
Loves to complain. Or she just complains a lot. Going out to eat with her is usually a nightmare unless we go out with her to an approved place.
My dad made a joke that she’s ADD and it got me thinking about everything. Can she have and have had undiagnosed ADD? Can symptoms of an ADD nature appear because of trauma? Can trauma beforehand affect symptoms of ADD?
Or maybe it’s undiagnosed anxiety or depression, but can those lead to restlessness or symptoms like ADD?
My great grandma once told my mom apologetically my grandma has always put herself first before anyone. But dad’s joke had made me wonder if there’s maybe overstimulation or…something?
I know you’re not psychic and I’m happy to give any extra info, but I wondered if a person can be horribly selfish if they have some kind of undiagnosed whatever.
Thank you! :)

I was an alcoholic for last 2 years i drank almost every evening . I became day drinker too.
Some how i stopped now.
I am addicted to smoking cigarettes from 7 years now .
For the first time in 2 years I am 18 days sober now is this correct time to quit smoking.
Alcohol cravings are less compared to smoking.

Feel like whenever I try to vent anywhere or with family or my long distance friends, I get ignored. Like they're always quick to change the subject or try to say (for example) where I tried to explained to my sister the reason why I smoke cigarettes is because of the dreams I have and how it makes me paranoid about everything around me because some of them ended up happening later on, or how I'm severely depressed about having no one that actually listens to me. I'm loosing touch with everything and everyone around me. Can't have an opinion about anything without it being criticized all the time. Can't be happy, nor will I ever be. But it's like I never mattered to anyone. Always dismissed, never taken seriously. Why am I cursed with this life? Why am I like a ghost to everyone? Just... why...

I don’t know if anybody else has noticed but lately it smells like peanut butter and cigarettes as I drive up Riverdale Road into Roy and around 30th street on Wall Ave. Does anybody know what this is or why? My friend said that it could be people smoking fentanyl by putting blue M30 fentanyl pills on Aluminum foil, and inhaling the fumes from it, and he says that often smells like peanut butter and cigarettes. I thought it could be the dog food plant experimenting with a new recipe, or some type of factory letting off fumes, or some type of construction work, or the barn fire that happened recently, or even something going on at the Union Pacific train crossings station but none of those seem to really check out. Especially because the smell gives me an immediate headache and makes me nauseous.

So I just bought an American N64 from ebay and after playing it for a few days it has a sort of old burnt plastic or cigarette kind of smell. I'm not sure if it is from cigarette smoke or some kind of internal thing happening from having probably not been played for a long time and now being played again, like burnt dust or an old capacitor. It works perfectly fine in every other way. But should I be concerned? Is there a risk for a fire or something like that if a capacitor does fail? Or can I just keep playing it and if nothing malfunctions I'm fine? Or should I open it up to inspect it? I really don't feel like opening it up if I don't need to. The smell isn't that bad I'm just worried about a fire or something.