295+

[30isEnuff]

How did I just find this website? BLR....

Why did you post it here?? Now I have another place to waste time that should be spent working...

Now my stomach hurts...from laughing so damn hard.
Thanks Smokeyg!
Hilarious site.

[Dougie]

How did I just find this website? BLR....

Why did you post it here?? Now I have another place to waste time that should be spent working...

[jake frawley]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 'poledancer' Present delivered!

[Smokeyg]

I've done it. Many times. Maybe it even helped me at one point in my quit. I don't know. Life is strange like that. But, what I do know is...personifying one's addiction is fucking lame.

The nic-bitch is you.
The whisper in your ear is you.
'boob'  the temptress is you.

There is no one to blame but you.

There is no solution but you.


Look at me - waxing poetic and shit. Fuck you nic-bitch. No, wait. Fuck me. And tnuC.

smoky i love you man but i tell you when tabacko compnys manipulate the amount of the drug they give us to keep us hooked, well then man i am totaly cool with namin them the enamy and havin a littel ball a hate for them each and evry day. the fact that i put that shit in my pie hole long anuff to feel like i needed it just to get by dont absolve them a there fuckin tryin to kill me.

Don't know what your brand of choice was, but I doubt anyone here can honestly deny that they knew Kodiak includes fiberglass to cut the shit out of your lip for a more efficient nicotine delivery experience. My eyes were wide open.

Earlier in my quit it was easier to blame big tobacco and my father for my nicotine dependency. Now that I've gained a bit of perspective, I realize that my dependency on nicotine was only a symptom of my inability to take control over my life choices. It's so much easier to live as a hapless victim.

[syndrome]

I've done it. Many times. Maybe it even helped me at one point in my quit. I don't know. Life is strange like that. But, what I do know is...personifying one's addiction is fucking lame.

The nic-bitch is you.
The whisper in your ear is you.
'boob' the temptress is you.

There is no one to blame but you.

There is no solution but you.


Look at me - waxing poetic and shit. Fuck you nic-bitch. No, wait. Fuck me. And tnuC.

smoky i love you man but i tell you when tabacko compnys manipulate the amount of the drug they give us to keep us hooked, well then man i am totaly cool with namin them the enamy and havin a littel ball a hate for them each and evry day. the fact that i put that shit in my pie hole long anuff to feel like i needed it just to get by dont absolve them a there fuckin tryin to kill me.

[jrod]

I've done it. Many times. Maybe it even helped me at one point in my quit. I don't know. Life is strange like that. But, what I do know is...personifying one's addiction is fucking lame.

The nic-bitch is you.
The whisper in your ear is you.
'boob' the temptress is you.

There is no one to blame but you.

There is no solution but you.


Look at me - waxing poetic and shit. Fuck you nic-bitch. No, wait. Fuck me. And tnuC.

I like this, and you're right. It's easy to blame outside entities - imaginary characters, nicotine, high school buddies, tobacco companies, etc. - while the real fault lies with us. We CHOSE to buy it. We CHOSE to open ourselves up to this addiction. And now we are only fighting ourselves.

I like to think of it as the smart part of my brain fighting the addicted part. It's all in my own head. Sure would be nice to have someone/something else to blame though...

[Smokeyg]

I've done it. Many times. Maybe it even helped me at one point in my quit. I don't know. Life is strange like that. But, what I do know is...personifying one's addiction is fucking lame.

The nic-bitch is you.
The whisper in your ear is you.
'boob' the temptress is you.

There is no one to blame but you.

There is no solution but you.


Look at me - waxing poetic and shit. Fuck you nic-bitch. No, wait. Fuck me. And tnuC.

[Smokeyg]

How did I just find this website? BLR....

[B-loMatt]

I started doing a P-90x type class at my local community center this evening. One of the activities involved partner pull-ups. My partner was an older guy. Lanky. White hanes v-neck a size too small. Goofy gray hair. A grunter.

I was standing, holding a 3 foot long wooden rod parallel to the ground with a bicep curl grip. He was laying on his back on his mat while I straddled his chest. Luckily, I was wearing tight boxer briefs or he would have had a clear view of my junk. He reached up inside my grip with a similar bicep curl grip. The point was for him to pull himself straight off the mat, keeping his back and neck rigid - like a 30 degree pull-up. My job was to support his body weight, keeping my core tight and knees slightly bent.

As a I hinted earlier, he wasn't in super shape. The first couple pull ups went alright, a little grunting, but nothing out of the normal. His form looked good - straight as a used arrow. Up and down. Pull up number three however, was more of a modified sit up. He had reached his limit and his form suffered. His back and neck curled inward as he pulled himself off the ground. I kept a straight face as his mouth grunted towards my crotch. "Thhhhrreee!" I looked straight ahead, straight faced. "Nice work". "Foooourrrr!" He actually left a little fleck of spit on my gym shorts from his exertion. We were doing sets of 15. Each rep became more and more inappropriate. The trainer, usually the boot camp type, had to walk to the other side of the gym. She couldn't comment. I made the mistake on rep number 8 of looking sideways in the giant mirror. Full on man on man action. Public forum. My arms were getting tired. We were both grunting now. His nose nudged my shorts on number 12. Sweet Jesus. I actually had the thought of how traumatic an erection - even a partial - would be at that moment. I don't know why my mind went there. I had to say something. "Keep it up." I gritted my teeth. 14 - our eyes met. Not a hint of embarrassment on either side. Neither acknowledged what was happening. We couldn't. We were men. Working out. And loving it.

Time for a hot shower.

I had to walk out of my office three times reading this post. I guess my co-workers now know that I sit at my computer and fuck off most of the day now. This is GOLD!

OH my fucking gawd was that ever funny I had to shut the door I was laughing so damn loud...I needed that thanks for bumping this

tears streaming down my face. hilarious.

Same here!! Freakin Crying! 'crackup'

51 shades of Grey. LOL!

'crackup' 'crackup' 'crackup'
Too much! My 7 year old wants to know what I am laughing at... She won't take grown-up stuff for an answer, and I can't stop laughing!

[FIGHTIN-IGNORANCE]

I started doing a P-90x type class at my local community center this evening. One of the activities involved partner pull-ups. My partner was an older guy. Lanky. White hanes v-neck a size too small. Goofy gray hair. A grunter.

I was standing, holding a 3 foot long wooden rod parallel to the ground with a bicep curl grip. He was laying on his back on his mat while I straddled his chest. Luckily, I was wearing tight boxer briefs or he would have had a clear view of my junk. He reached up inside my grip with a similar bicep curl grip. The point was for him to pull himself straight off the mat, keeping his back and neck rigid - like a 30 degree pull-up. My job was to support his body weight, keeping my core tight and knees slightly bent.

As a I hinted earlier, he wasn't in super shape. The first couple pull ups went alright, a little grunting, but nothing out of the normal. His form looked good - straight as a used arrow. Up and down. Pull up number three however, was more of a modified sit up. He had reached his limit and his form suffered. His back and neck curled inward as he pulled himself off the ground. I kept a straight face as his mouth grunted towards my crotch. "Thhhhrreee!" I looked straight ahead, straight faced. "Nice work". "Foooourrrr!" He actually left a little fleck of spit on my gym shorts from his exertion. We were doing sets of 15. Each rep became more and more inappropriate. The trainer, usually the boot camp type, had to walk to the other side of the gym. She couldn't comment. I made the mistake on rep number 8 of looking sideways in the giant mirror. Full on man on man action. Public forum. My arms were getting tired. We were both grunting now. His nose nudged my shorts on number 12. Sweet Jesus. I actually had the thought of how traumatic an erection - even a partial - would be at that moment. I don't know why my mind went there. I had to say something. "Keep it up." I gritted my teeth. 14 - our eyes met. Not a hint of embarrassment on either side. Neither acknowledged what was happening. We couldn't. We were men. Working out. And loving it.

Time for a hot shower.

I had to walk out of my office three times reading this post. I guess my co-workers now know that I sit at my computer and fuck off most of the day now. This is GOLD!

OH my fucking gawd was that ever funny I had to shut the door I was laughing so damn loud...I needed that thanks for bumping this

tears streaming down my face. hilarious.

Same here!! Freakin Crying! 'crackup'

51 shades of Grey. LOL!

[jrod]

I started doing a P-90x type class at my local community center this evening. One of the activities involved partner pull-ups. My partner was an older guy. Lanky. White hanes v-neck a size too small. Goofy gray hair. A grunter.

I was standing, holding a 3 foot long wooden rod parallel to the ground with a bicep curl grip. He was laying on his back on his mat while I straddled his chest. Luckily, I was wearing tight boxer briefs or he would have had a clear view of my junk. He reached up inside my grip with a similar bicep curl grip. The point was for him to pull himself straight off the mat, keeping his back and neck rigid - like a 30 degree pull-up. My job was to support his body weight, keeping my core tight and knees slightly bent.

As a I hinted earlier, he wasn't in super shape. The first couple pull ups went alright, a little grunting, but nothing out of the normal. His form looked good - straight as a used arrow. Up and down. Pull up number three however, was more of a modified sit up. He had reached his limit and his form suffered. His back and neck curled inward as he pulled himself off the ground. I kept a straight face as his mouth grunted towards my crotch. "Thhhhrreee!" I looked straight ahead, straight faced. "Nice work". "Foooourrrr!" He actually left a little fleck of spit on my gym shorts from his exertion. We were doing sets of 15. Each rep became more and more inappropriate. The trainer, usually the boot camp type, had to walk to the other side of the gym. She couldn't comment. I made the mistake on rep number 8 of looking sideways in the giant mirror. Full on man on man action. Public forum. My arms were getting tired. We were both grunting now. His nose nudged my shorts on number 12. Sweet Jesus. I actually had the thought of how traumatic an erection - even a partial - would be at that moment. I don't know why my mind went there. I had to say something. "Keep it up." I gritted my teeth. 14 - our eyes met. Not a hint of embarrassment on either side. Neither acknowledged what was happening. We couldn't. We were men. Working out. And loving it.

Time for a hot shower.

I had to walk out of my office three times reading this post. I guess my co-workers now know that I sit at my computer and fuck off most of the day now. This is GOLD!

OH my fucking gawd was that ever funny I had to shut the door I was laughing so damn loud...I needed that thanks for bumping this

tears streaming down my face. hilarious.

[traumagnet]

I started doing a P-90x type class at my local community center this evening. One of the activities involved partner pull-ups. My partner was an older guy. Lanky. White hanes v-neck a size too small. Goofy gray hair. A grunter.

I was standing, holding a 3 foot long wooden rod parallel to the ground with a bicep curl grip. He was laying on his back on his mat while I straddled his chest. Luckily, I was wearing tight boxer briefs or he would have had a clear view of my junk. He reached up inside my grip with a similar bicep curl grip. The point was for him to pull himself straight off the mat, keeping his back and neck rigid - like a 30 degree pull-up. My job was to support his body weight, keeping my core tight and knees slightly bent.

As a I hinted earlier, he wasn't in super shape. The first couple pull ups went alright, a little grunting, but nothing out of the normal. His form looked good - straight as a used arrow. Up and down. Pull up number three however, was more of a modified sit up. He had reached his limit and his form suffered. His back and neck curled inward as he pulled himself off the ground. I kept a straight face as his mouth grunted towards my crotch. "Thhhhrreee!" I looked straight ahead, straight faced. "Nice work". "Foooourrrr!" He actually left a little fleck of spit on my gym shorts from his exertion. We were doing sets of 15. Each rep became more and more inappropriate. The trainer, usually the boot camp type, had to walk to the other side of the gym. She couldn't comment. I made the mistake on rep number 8 of looking sideways in the giant mirror. Full on man on man action. Public forum. My arms were getting tired. We were both grunting now. His nose nudged my shorts on number 12. Sweet Jesus. I actually had the thought of how traumatic an erection - even a partial - would be at that moment. I don't know why my mind went there. I had to say something. "Keep it up." I gritted my teeth. 14 - our eyes met. Not a hint of embarrassment on either side. Neither acknowledged what was happening. We couldn't. We were men. Working out. And loving it.

Time for a hot shower.

I had to walk out of my office three times reading this post. I guess my co-workers now know that I sit at my computer and fuck off most of the day now. This is GOLD!

OH my fucking gawd was that ever funny I had to shut the door I was laughing so damn loud...I needed that thanks for bumping this

[Dougie]

I started doing a P-90x type class at my local community center this evening. One of the activities involved partner pull-ups. My partner was an older guy. Lanky. White hanes v-neck a size too small. Goofy gray hair. A grunter.

I was standing, holding a 3 foot long wooden rod parallel to the ground with a bicep curl grip. He was laying on his back on his mat while I straddled his chest. Luckily, I was wearing tight boxer briefs or he would have had a clear view of my junk. He reached up inside my grip with a similar bicep curl grip. The point was for him to pull himself straight off the mat, keeping his back and neck rigid - like a 30 degree pull-up. My job was to support his body weight, keeping my core tight and knees slightly bent.

As a I hinted earlier, he wasn't in super shape. The first couple pull ups went alright, a little grunting, but nothing out of the normal. His form looked good - straight as a used arrow. Up and down. Pull up number three however, was more of a modified sit up. He had reached his limit and his form suffered. His back and neck curled inward as he pulled himself off the ground. I kept a straight face as his mouth grunted towards my crotch. "Thhhhrreee!" I looked straight ahead, straight faced. "Nice work". "Foooourrrr!" He actually left a little fleck of spit on my gym shorts from his exertion. We were doing sets of 15. Each rep became more and more inappropriate. The trainer, usually the boot camp type, had to walk to the other side of the gym. She couldn't comment. I made the mistake on rep number 8 of looking sideways in the giant mirror. Full on man on man action. Public forum. My arms were getting tired. We were both grunting now. His nose nudged my shorts on number 12. Sweet Jesus. I actually had the thought of how traumatic an erection - even a partial - would be at that moment. I don't know why my mind went there. I had to say something. "Keep it up." I gritted my teeth. 14 - our eyes met. Not a hint of embarrassment on either side. Neither acknowledged what was happening. We couldn't. We were men. Working out. And loving it.

Time for a hot shower.

I had to walk out of my office three times reading this post. I guess my co-workers now know that I sit at my computer and fuck off most of the day now. This is GOLD!

[Dougie]

Better still, what are the 5 indicators that a quitter is beginning to plan their own cave... we all know that this planning stage does happen, and vets sure as hell can see it coming if they pay attention.

Ooohhh, this could be a lively discussion. I'll throw in my two cents, but we need a dollar.

I don't believe in a planned cave. I have strung together 100+ days in the past and I have caved on an absolute whim. So, I will tell you how I came to buy a 25 cent special Grizzly Long Cut Straight from a 7-11 clerk after he couldn't give me directions to a swimming pool located less than two blocks from his store....

1) I distanced myself from my support network. My nicotine cessation group had a one month "hoorah for us" Chinese dinner celebration. It was great. We all exchanged contact information and I intentionally gave the wrong phone number because I was ready to do this thing on my own. I was one of only two people who hadn't caved during the first 30 days in class.

2) I did not have a forum to vent my frustrations. I often found myself blaming my wife (then girlfriend) for things that stemmed from my own behavior. I had no fuse with my students. My rage was pent up and growing.

3) I grew extremely complacent with my quit. I had a little 30 day calendar and 30 stickers that I could place for every day I remained quit. I hung that on my fridge with the same pride JpCrew pinned up his 2.3 miracle semester Junior year in HS. After that, I stopped keeping track with stickers. After two months, I lost track in my head and soon after I just stopped thinking about my quit altogether. Why think about it if you are quit, right? I owned that shit.

4) When my wife asked me how my quit was going, I would start to feel a bit irritated. What does it have to do with her? I came to resent her probing into my personal struggle and eventually convinced myself that she was why I had quit. I forgot the personal moment when I declared, "I choose to control my future" as I tossed my last tin the garbage in front of my quit group. My addiction took over and changed that to "My wife chooses to control my future".

5) The big shabang. Intense moment of stress piled on top of a craving right in front of a 25 cent special rack and I had no support, tons of pent up frustrations, no pride in my own quit, and a girlfriend constantly telling me what to do. One won't hurt?

CAVING IS NOT AN OPTION! You can never have just one.

Told this story before but I think it's worth repeating...I quit once for 27 days. This was maybe 13 years ago. My close friends were blown away that I had quit and admitted to me that they had been wrong. I am the chupracabra. The Kid. I rule.

Monday. Had to teach a class in San Diego. I'm not a big fan of public speaking - kinda stresses me out. As I drove down from Ventura I ran out of the fake mint snuff. No big deal, when I got to San Diego I just went to a 7-11 to get some more. They were out. So was the next one. I didn't know the area. Random convenience stores didn't carry it. The clock was ticking. One more 7-11. No mint snuff? I'll take the Copenhagen.

It wasn't that I planned to cave. It's that I failed to plan, then caved.

For those that do plan to cave, it's my belief that the #1 reason is that they forgot why they quit. My reasons are written down in back and white right by the coffee maker.

i started when i was 14 and 'tried' a quit once about 3 years ago and faked a quit two years ago to please the wife. in the failed quit, i tried using nrp and it was useless, simply used the gum more than i did tobacco because my wife let me use the gum in front of her, i think at that time i used more nic in a day than ever before in my addiction. after about 3 weeks i quit spending the money on the gum and went back to the dip, i actually justified it by saying at least i'm not sending anymore money to big pharm. the second was my stealth quit, i figured if i ninjaed(yep, new word in my personal unabridged dictionary volume 3) better the wife would think i was quit and would leave me alone. i guess the details of how that went are just filled with screaming, accusations, and the idea that somehow my wife just didn't get me. then came the summer of 2009. my boys and i drove to florida and the wife flew down to meet us(not on her broom). wpw, i was in dipping heaven....BUTthat's a big but, i found myself dipping more and more. i was cold busted cans everywhere, spitters everywhere, when the wife got there, she was one pissed spouse but didn't say anything. well, vacation ended, she flew home, i drove the boys. sitting in the car sucking on a fatty my 10 year old say to me "dad, you are really being a bad influence on me." hell i've heard that about a million times but some how it stuck. we got home i bought what became my last roll. on july 17, i cracked the third can of the day, had started the day with an open can, do the math; fourth can of the day, at around 11:00 pm, looked in the bathroom mirror and said to myself, "Self, this is bullshit." dumped the can, flushed it, and went to bed. the next day i found this site, actually had to email chewie to sign up, computer problem, and haven't looked back. i will no longer be a liar to my wife and kids. i will be the role model my kids deserve. i will be my quit and will never look back.

Somebody once told me that it's not enough to not go looking for trouble, you have to actively avoid it. I planned alot of caves. Before I found KTC I had a fairly serious quit a few years ago. I used NRT's (improperly) and didn't chew or Smoke for 6 months. All well and good but I caved out at the duck club during hunting season. I then rationalized my cave with I can control my use. I just would smoke one cig a night after work. That worked for about a week. Then it was two then 20, then I was smoking like a crack head so I decided I better start dipping again because all those cigs couldn't be good. So I quit again to gain control, I would only chew on a rigid schedule and cut down slowly. Good plan? nope. I started by not dipping for an hour after I woke up, then two then three etc etc. After awhile I would go all day and then start dipping at 6 or so. I would then proceed to chew a can in 6 or 7 hours, staying up late to keep dipping. Hmmmn this planned out cessation program wasn't working so I changed it again. The new plan was to go a day then two then three etc and after each successful abstinence program I would reward myself with a big fat wedge. That worked for a little while too, I got up to a week before I would gobble down a can or two and then start over. Can you imagine? I made myself go thru the three day withdrawl over and over again. Needless to say I was a dick during this period. I pissed off everybody, or they pissed off me. I rationalized this as I must have chewed to help me not want to kill people. Thing was it was the dip that made me so hostile, or the withdrawls rather. I am still amazed I didn't get a divorce due to my chronic assholism.
Every quit had some rule where I could chew or smoke if I quit for such and such a time period. The cave was my reward for quitting. Duh no wonder I could never get it under control. That pattern was so ingrained in my pea brain that I actually considered having a dip to celebrate my HOF. I earned it right? FUCK ME RUNNING I am a naughty little addict. I still plan my caves, but the difference is I recognize what Im doing.
5 Steps to a planned cave, I dunno, prob different for everybody.
On this site I should say it starts with an excuse to not post, My internet, grandma, car, house, bike, girdle, vagina, airconditioning broke so I won't be around for a few days. Second is a lack of vigilence due to leaving the site. Very easy to forget your addiction when your not forced to confront it everyday thru KTC. 3rd you become over confident in your self control. You don't post and you hardly ever think about dip so you must be a beacon of self control right? WRONG.

At this point your primed for a cave, planned or not. I guess step five is to stuff that cancer causing dirt flavored puke inducing worm shit into your yap.

SM

Damn! I thought MY logic was toxic back when I was a dipper. Skoalmonster puts me to shame. I mean Da---yuuuum.

I think most caves spring from one of two different falacies:

THE RECOVERY FALACY: The notion that once we've stopped nic usage for some period of time, that we're somehow "cured" of our addiction. Hell, President Obama hisownself said just a couple months ago, regarding his cigarette addiction, "I'm about 95% cured at this point." Right. If you think you can handle occasional nic use, you're done. Put a fork in ya.

The successful lifetime quitter is the one who KNOWS, deep down in his bones, that he's an incurable nicotice addict. He looks in the mirror every morning and sees a junkie. A healthy junkie, but a junkie just the same.

THE STRESS FALACY: The notion that we'll be able to cope with some bad turn of events more easily if we are using tobacco.

Of course, the only thing that nicotine does for us mentally is reduce the nicotine withdrawals that come from not using nicotine. You want to see a situation go from bad to worse? Throw all the guilt and shame of a ruined quit right on top of your real-life problems and see how that feels. Better? Well...ummm...no. Worse.

Bottom line...what's the best 'leading indicator' for a cave? It's when you start believing the lies the nic bitch tells you. You know how to tell when she's lying? When her lips are moving.

This shit is brilliant... well done fellas.

I caved in 2003 after about 14 months of quit. It wasn't planned from what I recall. But I certainly wasn't prepared. I had absolutely no understanding of what it meant to be an addict.

I am a deer hunter. October 1, 2003 rolled around. It just wasn't going to feel right in the woods without tobacco in my mouth. On the way to the camp, I foolishly told myself "You can dip just one can, just for opening weekend..." The plan was to go back home after a weekend of hunting and continue being quit.

It was May 2, 2009 before I mustered up the balls to quit again. "One can" turned into nearly 6 more years of being a slave to the can.

The lesson I learned: I am an addict, and that fact will never change. There is absolutely no such thing as "just one". Not "one dip", not "one can", not "one cigarette". I can NEVER use tobacco again, not once. And I won't. Failure is not an option. May 2 was the last time I will ever have started the process of nicotine withdrawal.

You quit on May 2nd? kewl now I know what I'll get every year for my birthday LAQuitter one more year quit. ;) Never knew you cared so much :wub:

All for you bubblehed! Happy damn birthday Aggie! :D

Bumping this up to the front so the lazy quitters that I am going to direct to this thread will read this shit and hopefully learn.

[Dougie]

I've developed a bad habit of getting a dab of poop on my right thumb when wiping as of late. Used to be a once a month occurance, but now I'm shooting 50/50. On the bright side, I'm much more aware of my hand-washing now. Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise.

fuck! Thought it was just me!!

I really need to get to work but your thread is hilarious-

It is also helping my understand the hostility surrounding cavers and people that dont take roll call seriously