A Day in the Life
Every year at this time the wife and kiddies take a jaunt to the in-laws beach house at the New Jersey Shore and leave me alone to fend for myself. (Yes, the same Jersey Shore that Snookie and the Situation embarrass the living hell out of every state resident.) Even though I love the family and will miss them, it is actually pretty cool to have the Z-mansion all to my lonesome self. Not having to answer to the ol’ ball and chain and shlep the kids to friends houses, yada, yada, yada, is kind of a nice break from the everyday norm.
So what does a middle-aged cigar sucking, blog blathering Polack do to keep himself amused for a full week? To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure. The people that I thought I could rely on - all of my divorced buddies who always tell me to call them anytime – those bastids have bailed on me because of this, that, and the other thing. Well, actually my pals, Scott and Ralph offered to have breakfast with me and hang out for the full day on Sunday. Okay, so maybe I’m a charity case, but I’ll share a few eggs and corned beef hash with the boys, I mean what the hell else is there to do, right?
So after breakfast and getting all jacked up on java, I’m thinking then what? Wait… hey, I know… let’s bounce around to several local cigar stores here in north Jersey and smoke our friggin brains out! Whoa, way cool idea there Zman. Where to, dude? Of course we’ve gotta start with JR Cigars in Whippany because I’ve gotta support the hand that feeds those wife and kids that are on vacation. It’s all settled - we break out the gps and travel the highways and byways to shops a plenty!
So we did just that, visitng three stogie establishments and firing up the tobacco happy sticks like a bunch of crazed loons. So, by five o’clock, I’ve smoked six different cigars and my mouth tastes like a garbage truck fire and black lung has started to set in. But goddammit, I don’t care because I’m a BOTL on the loose and nicotine is my only friend – well, other than Scott and Ralph that is.
Uh oh, by now my stomach says it’s time for my nightly feeding! Guys, we’ve got to do something and quick. I’m just a tad light headed from smoke inhilation and putting some charred cow carcass into my belly sounds like a nice idea. Cigars, and red meat has been the staple of the man’s man diet for several centuries and I’m more than ready to support the cycle of evolution. (Btw, I think the reason I really love cows so much is because they taste just like steak.)
So fellas. how ’bout a good steakhouse? What’s in the area? Okay, Scott is all of a sudden Mr. cheap-ass and says he’s only got fifty bucks. And of course I ride his ass and make him feel like a hunk of trash until he gives in and agrees to eat something good and worthy of us real manly men on the prowl. Ralph agrees and the three stogie devouring goons ascend upon the local eatery like people who have never actually eaten before.
Fast forward – our plates are clean from the 26 ounce sides of beef that sat before us only 20 minutes prior. Like three pathetic versions of Monty Python’s Mr. Creosote, not a one of us could even fit one thin little mint into our swollen, smoke filled carcasses. And even though we were done and hog tied, we knew there was always room for one more cigar. So off to the parking lot we rolled our selves and delved into the ziplock bags filled to the brim with our newly acquired stashes. As I cut, lit, and puffed my seventh premium handrolled cigar of the day, I shook my head, knowing that life was good.
Wow, what a day of just hanging out and smoking my goddamned brains out with my bestest buddies. It was fun, it was great, and now all I have to wonder is one thing: What am I going to do tomorrow?
Just six more days to go. Please send cigars.
Love,
Tommy Z.
JR CIgars Blog With the Zman
