That time I didn't think I would breathe again... #breatheagain

I’m sure I told yall that I ain’t too smart. Most people don’t believe me when I attest to my ability AND inability to know things, though I hold all the resources and facts that would make me just a knower, know what I mean? I can’t call it. My best hypothesis... My brain doesn’t move at the speed of my body, and the reaction times get all messed up, and well *shrug* 

I promise, it’s not in a problem child, “I knew it was bad and I did it anyway to piss you off.” It’s more like a curious kid, “I know it’s bad, but what level of bad is it? AND Shouldn’t I test the theory to make sure?” type of thing, which still, oddly enough to me, pisses you off. Because now there’s water on the floor that has to be cleaned up. It's like I heard you and didn't hear you (but, absolutely did) at the same (damn) time.

That picturesque painting lasted too long, because the idiot things were very idiotic. Like this one:

I traveled to Dallas to see family and friends because while it wasn’t very safe to travel to a place like Dallas, those responsibilities were being responsible at that time. While traveling, no matter the destination, I always bring back souvenirs, because I miss yall or whatever. They’re usually your vices because YOLO or petty postcards because they make stamps 'pacifically for them. This, though, meant cigars and spirits for Uncle. 

(you already know what’s happening next)

While I was cigar shopping (in a mask and still suffering from smoke inhalation) I saw the cutest little baby cigars. I was like, “OMG, that’s me…” and Dee looked at me because, of course I should be looked at thinking that any kind of smoke is cute. Don't all of my personalities have allergies? (Yes, they do) In perfect, pollen-free weather conditions, it’s likely I’ll have kleenex stuffed up a nostril, and I think a cigar is cute? Yup. Sure did.

(see, you were right, hunh?)

It’s Friday night, on the porch, and the guys are smoking their cigars. I ran into the house to present my baby cigar, along with the gifts I bought Uncle and the guys. Uncle looked at that baby cigar and said, “I don’t know why you got me that!”

“It’s not for you! It’s a baby one, for me!”

Hysterical laughter. He almost dropped his whisk(e)y glass. 

Logic that is literally not logic: “See, yall cigars are too big and all smoky and whatnot, so I can’t have those. This is a baby one like me, so it’s not going to be all smoky like that.” Or so, I’ve convinced one of my Uncle’s friends; let's call him Idiot #2. (Imma always be Numbah 1! - this isn't a good thing, but I think I made it good in my head - hence this post)

“If you light that thing and she falls out, you’re taking her to the hospital.” Uncle looked that man straight in the eye. Clear face. Super serious. Idiot #2 thought it was a joke. Not sure why.

Me: Watches the baby cigar being lit. Cheers inside seeing the fire like Cheryl from Archer. Forgets that I’m not supposed to inhale because of the exciting fire. Inhales.

Passes out in the grass.

Yall. I am on my knees gasping for fresh air, outside, in the middle of fresh air. I started to tear up. I think this was supposed to be one of those near death moments where you revisit things in your life, see scenes introspectively or whatever, right? None of that. I was leaned over, lungs on fire, hoping to pass out (again). Because Lord, if this is it, just take me now. I GET IT. I’M A MENACE AND I DON’T DESERVE THINGS OR ABILITIES LIKE BREATHING.

“See, that’s YOUR fault.” Pointing to his friend and looking for a set of car keys to launch at him.

After drinking water out of his friend’s cup, literally worried if it was safe to do because of the picturesque painting, I just sat. You would think, in that moment, I would swear off anything exactly or related to smoke. From the paprika to bonfire - everything in between and on the outskirts. I sat, slumped over, with my hand still pressed to my chest, trying to resuscitate my lungs, still on fire.

You know what I had the unmitigated gall to say in that moment? “Maybe I didn’t get the RIGHT kind.” I'm using the word "say" but it was definitely unintelligible mumbles and coughs.

Yall. If Uncle Eddie could have snatched the time stone from Dr. Strange, he wouldn't have even looked for a possible possibility of a sensical me, he have gone back in time and eradicated my DNA.

I totally identify with Cheryl. Honestly, truly.

Also, by that next Friday, I had my own cigar torch - thanks to his friend. I was off to the side of the house burning cardboard, becoming Cheryl (from Archer) while they enjoyed their cigars and spirits. I wouldn’t have gotten caught, except. I ran suspiciously for the water hose. I heard Uncle yell, “You gave her a WHAT?!?! She didn’t tell you about that kitchen did she?!?!” Reaching for something to throw at me. #NoDaysOff4Uncle lol

So what if I’m the reason for his spirits and cigars. I would buy them for him, right? Good ones, too. Jeez.