Smoker’s Oasis

The death of Peter Jennings (from lung cancer) last week has lots of folks thinking about smoking. I remember when smoking was allowed on airplanes and ash trays were common desk accessories in the office. Ash tray. A tray for your ashes. Do they still manufacture ash trays? I’m sure they do.

My favorite “ash tray” is The Smoker’s Oasis. The grand daddy of ash trays, The Smoker’s Oasis has sprung up like big, stinking mushrooms outside offices and buildings across America. When we drove our smoking employees outdoors, we had to come up with someplace for them to put their butts.

We had one outside our offices for a while. It was originally located 30 or 40 yards from the back door of our building. The next time I saw it, it was right next to the building, so smokers could get a little shelter from the rain.

I went searching for it to take a picture for this post but it’s gone. When I asked one of my smoker co-workers where it was located, she would only mutter, “It’s gone. I don’t know where it is.”

My current theory is our Smoker’s Oasis has become like Dracula’s coffin. Only smokers know where to find it and you can never spot them going to or from the secret location.

Do our closeted smokers take turns emptying our Smoker’s Oasis? Is there a secret duty roster somewhere, showing who has butt chores this week? And where do they dump the butts? Do they bury them in the woods behind our office, taking care to spread leaves over the shallow grave?

Do they dream of a day when they are once again in the majority and can come in from the cold? Will we have nice, cut glass ash trays on every desk, with the company logo proudly imprinted on the side? Will we see a day when there is no longer a need for the Smoker’s Oasis? We can only hope.

Nikol Lohr on pregnancy

“I don’t want kids. Sometimes I like kids okay, sometimes they’re funny or smart, but I don’t want one growing inside me like a tape worm. They grow in there and press down all your organs and give you incessant heartburn and make you have to pee all the time and make your ankles swell so the only shoes you can wear are flip-flops. And then when they’re finished leeching off you, they slide out like greasy little piglets all mucousy and pink.”

“Then afterwards, you have twenty years of no life of your own. If you do it right, anyway. And then a whole lifetime of worry. Like having a dog that outlives you and runs away all the time and chews up all your furniture and pees everywhere and hates you at least for a while no matter what. A dog that no matter how good you try to be is slightly embarrassed of you and will definitely lie and deceive you. A dog that won’t let you pet it and that talks back.”

Jeff Jarvis on “Freedom Center”

Mr. Jarvis is so right when he calls for “the truest expression of American freedom: commerce.” Instead of a “Freedom Center” (at the site of the World Trade Center), he wants to see life:

I want to see stores that sell scanty clothes, no burkas allowed.
I want to see restaurants that serve liquor.
I want to see movies that show anything, even sex.
I want to see bookstores that celebrate free speech.
I want to see stores selling products from all over the world: the fruits of globalization.
I want to see life there. Defiant, unapologetic life.

Halley Suitt on class reunions

“Within one week, two fairly nice, rational, reasonable guys I know told me about 1. (first guy) attending a college reunion and loathing the experience and 2. (the other) told me how he was dreading attending an upcoming reunion. I’m sorry, but what the HELL WERE THEY THINKING? Why put yourself through such a thing? Remind me why people even bother going to reunions? If you’re doing a lot better than the people in your graduating class, surely you have something better to do than go rub your former classmates’ noses in it. If you’re doing worse, that’s reason enough not to go. If you still see and like your college friends, have a party at your house and invite them over. Aren’t reunions just a wallet-cleaning activity for the alumni fund-raisers? Wait, wait, do guys go so they can see who ended up with what woman? This might have some logic to it, but what a waste of time!”

—  Halley’s blog