Taste of Relaxation
My roommate (Blisken) and I both had fairly decent jobs thrown at us at the same time. His is as a full time programmer, and mine is as an assistant manager at a health products place. I guess when they saw him they knew they had a computer geek on their hands, and when they saw me they were awed by my godlike physique.
And now that I'm done playing pretend...
We drove out to his worksite in advance so he'd know where he was supposed to go before the time actually came that he needed to be there. On the way home, I detoured to a cigar shop. I wanted to celebrate a little bit, but while I was waiting on my first paycheque I didn't want to do anything too extravagant.
With cigars, you generally get what you pay for. There are five kinds of cigars that you can almost always rate by how cheap they are. Each grade up of cigar is exponentially better than the grade below it.
The worst kind come plastic wrapped in packages of no less than ten and taste like some old guy had a bowel movement in a pile of leaves he raked up in a graveyard before rolling them around a stick and burying them for a few months.
A step up from those is the kind that come in plastic sleeves. Although they're much better than the previous kind and only cost a few dollars, they're either mostly flavorless if they're light, or if they're dark, will give you a massive headache and the inability to move your legs for half an hour after you finish. I asked Blisken (who's never smoked) if he wanted to try one and he said yes, so I bought him the type that I used to smoke regularly. Blue Nexus in hand, I searched for a different one to try for myself knowing that he'd probably not even think about actually smoking the Nexus anyway, and that I'd end up with them both.
Beyond these are some better known cigars that have actually made a somewhat decent name for themselves. They might come in plastic sleeves, but you can usually get them in glass or metal tubes if you look hard enough and should expect to pay eight to twelve dollars for one. I went for this bracket for a change, grabbing myself a dark Cohiba that was so moist a midget could have made love to it. It was delectable; I'm completely sold on them.
After these you have the type of cigar that only comes two ways. You either buy it individually, wrapped in cedar inside an air-tight glass tube, or by the wooden box of five. I've never had one because I've never had the job to burn that kind of money, and thankfully haven't had any kids to where someone would show up with one. Which, if I have to suffer through 30 years of a woman's little brat, is the least they could show up with.
Going up from these, you have the hand-rolled straight off the plantation style cigars that you can't get in North America...which is a good thing, because they'd probably immediately give me lung cancer and a heart attack simultaneously. Needless to say, if I ever find myself in Latin America I'm going to be smoking like a chimney the entire time I'm there.
Like I said, I'm sold on the Cohibas and they weren't even near the best quality a person could get. I thoroughly enjoyed mine down to the stub. Having said that, I never really understood why people hated the bottom ends of them so much. To me, it seems like the most intoxicating, flavorful part of the entire cigar. The longer you can stand smoking it, the closer to your lips the flame gets, the better it seems to taste to me.
Blisken left his lying on the kitchen counter and headed out of town. Not that I haven't smoked four month old cigars before, but they taste worse and worse as they dry out. After six hours, they get iffy, after a day, it's sometimes not worth even bothering. But reminiscing over my time on campus with a Nexus stuffed butt-end under my hat, I figured there were a lot worse things I'd been forced to suck on for half an hour.
....
No. Faggot.
As I closed my eyes and took in the spiced blue-label, I found myself enjoying the dried out, cheap, stem-filled cigar more than the fresh one that I'd got for myself. I guess that's why I've never cared too much about money so long as my bills are paid...I'm perfectly happy with something simple and good. I don't need the best of the best out there in order to smile alone in the middle of the night and truly be able to relax and enjoy myself for thirty minutes. And even if that's all it is, thirty minutes of unhindered happiness, as long as I know it's going to be there it doesn't bother me in the slightest that it's been two years since I've felt it.
I never saw myself as being the type to come home from a day of work and appreciate having absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the night. Hopefully I can make this feeling last.
And now that I'm done playing pretend...
We drove out to his worksite in advance so he'd know where he was supposed to go before the time actually came that he needed to be there. On the way home, I detoured to a cigar shop. I wanted to celebrate a little bit, but while I was waiting on my first paycheque I didn't want to do anything too extravagant.
With cigars, you generally get what you pay for. There are five kinds of cigars that you can almost always rate by how cheap they are. Each grade up of cigar is exponentially better than the grade below it.
The worst kind come plastic wrapped in packages of no less than ten and taste like some old guy had a bowel movement in a pile of leaves he raked up in a graveyard before rolling them around a stick and burying them for a few months.
A step up from those is the kind that come in plastic sleeves. Although they're much better than the previous kind and only cost a few dollars, they're either mostly flavorless if they're light, or if they're dark, will give you a massive headache and the inability to move your legs for half an hour after you finish. I asked Blisken (who's never smoked) if he wanted to try one and he said yes, so I bought him the type that I used to smoke regularly. Blue Nexus in hand, I searched for a different one to try for myself knowing that he'd probably not even think about actually smoking the Nexus anyway, and that I'd end up with them both.
Beyond these are some better known cigars that have actually made a somewhat decent name for themselves. They might come in plastic sleeves, but you can usually get them in glass or metal tubes if you look hard enough and should expect to pay eight to twelve dollars for one. I went for this bracket for a change, grabbing myself a dark Cohiba that was so moist a midget could have made love to it. It was delectable; I'm completely sold on them.
After these you have the type of cigar that only comes two ways. You either buy it individually, wrapped in cedar inside an air-tight glass tube, or by the wooden box of five. I've never had one because I've never had the job to burn that kind of money, and thankfully haven't had any kids to where someone would show up with one. Which, if I have to suffer through 30 years of a woman's little brat, is the least they could show up with.
Going up from these, you have the hand-rolled straight off the plantation style cigars that you can't get in North America...which is a good thing, because they'd probably immediately give me lung cancer and a heart attack simultaneously. Needless to say, if I ever find myself in Latin America I'm going to be smoking like a chimney the entire time I'm there.
Like I said, I'm sold on the Cohibas and they weren't even near the best quality a person could get. I thoroughly enjoyed mine down to the stub. Having said that, I never really understood why people hated the bottom ends of them so much. To me, it seems like the most intoxicating, flavorful part of the entire cigar. The longer you can stand smoking it, the closer to your lips the flame gets, the better it seems to taste to me.
Blisken left his lying on the kitchen counter and headed out of town. Not that I haven't smoked four month old cigars before, but they taste worse and worse as they dry out. After six hours, they get iffy, after a day, it's sometimes not worth even bothering. But reminiscing over my time on campus with a Nexus stuffed butt-end under my hat, I figured there were a lot worse things I'd been forced to suck on for half an hour.
....
No. Faggot.
As I closed my eyes and took in the spiced blue-label, I found myself enjoying the dried out, cheap, stem-filled cigar more than the fresh one that I'd got for myself. I guess that's why I've never cared too much about money so long as my bills are paid...I'm perfectly happy with something simple and good. I don't need the best of the best out there in order to smile alone in the middle of the night and truly be able to relax and enjoy myself for thirty minutes. And even if that's all it is, thirty minutes of unhindered happiness, as long as I know it's going to be there it doesn't bother me in the slightest that it's been two years since I've felt it.
I never saw myself as being the type to come home from a day of work and appreciate having absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the night. Hopefully I can make this feeling last.
posted by red at 22:15
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