Unleashing My Inner Yogi Berra

So I’m outside on my smoke break watching the monster clouds storm the castle cloud and taking a drag off of my cigarette, hating every wonderful moment of it when I have an epiphany. I rub my recently fattened belly, which got that way after pilfering a raspberry loaf cake from the homeless via the Starbuck’s donation box, and it comes to me, ” Maybe if I stop smoking and start running I’ll stop smoking and start running.”

Genius! Why had I never thought of this before? If I stop smoking and start running, I’ll stop smoking and start running. I’d be dead sexy if I could pull this off. I’d finally have those abs that I’ve been photoshopping onto my pictures, I’d have a different kind of funny smell (maybe even a good one, I don’t know) and I could finally afford that drink I’ve been thinking about buying a lovely young lady for years. Best of all I could shout, “You’ll never catch me, coppers” and mean it!

I’m gonna try like hell to make this work, but its gonna be real hard. I’m one lazy bastard. I’ll probably have to pick up some running shoes and I just bought a pair so my thrifty side is going to tell me that this is an unnecessary purchase. I also hate being seen, I don’t want to hear, “ Hey tubby, I saw you running last Tuesday.” Stop stalking me A-hole; I don’t go around telling you what I saw last Tuesday… P.S. don’t call me tubby, its offensive. I also hate sweating; it’s unbecoming. Then there is the whole issue of smoking.

I think the last time I ran it was because I was out of cigarettes. Sometimes I don’t even know why I’ve left the house until I’m standing in line at the gas station blurting out “pack of Camel lights.” That is the epitome of an addiction. I don’t consider myself to be a heavy smoker, usually I can keep it between 3-5 when alcohol is not present, but I’m experienced. If smoking were a job I’d get it based on experience alone, no college degree necessary. I hate smoking, I’ve hated it for a good two years now, and I’ve been able to quit for a week here and there and even a month once. The problem is that after you’ve got a month in your pocket you regain your sense of smell, and when someone lights up that shit smells good.

I know that I’m going to need one to help with the other and vise versa. If I quit smoking and don’t run I’ll be a fatty fat fat and playgirl will never come knocking on my door looking for Mr. September. If I start running and don’t quit smoking I’ll never get anywhere and I’ll be a Chubby McTubster. I think I’ve made my decision. I’d like to have my taste and smell back, lose that nagging cough and most of all I’d like to bring out my inner sexy beast. I’m far too shy to approach most of the women I’m interested in and it would be fantastic if I were so fetching that they had no choice but to approach me. I’m glad I had a mind meld with the ghost of Yogi Berra today. I'll probably join the Lewis and Clark College track team.