Early this morning, somewhere in Mayor Mike's brownstone on 65th Street, he's counting his money in his silk boxers and laughing his ass at me. Big, screaming, howls of laughter. Choking on your tears, huge belly laughs. Need a drink to stop the pain from the all the laughing.
You get the picture.
And why is Bloomberg laughing at me? Why has he suddenly exacted his revenge? Because when he put a smoking ban in clubs and bars in Manhattan, I complained bitterly. V ociferously. To anyone who would listen. I screamed it was "unAmerican" to not be able to smoke while drinking at a bar. I signed petitions! I joined a Craigslist chain of like-minded people who felt my basic freedoms were taken away. I was not pleased.
And now, g-d what I wouldn't do for Mayor Mike to move to Tel Aviv and impose a cigarette ban? The streets of Tel Aviv has made me feel like Pig-Pen. I walk from cloud to cloud of tobacco and close my eyes, knowingf that by the time I get back to my apartment I'll stink like I smoked three packs in 30 minutes.
Mayor Mike is gleeful because he knows that my upstairs neighbor smokes while on the toilet, which is why my bathroom stinks like I've been smoking on my toilet. And, unless you're a Supermodel I once worked with (who will also remain nameless), my upstairs neighbor can smoke on his Mirpeset (balcony) like everyone else upstairs. He certainly isn't a Supermodel!
Karma, it's a bitch. Screw Carson Daily.
Song of the day: Smoke it by the Dandy Warhols. Cause no one can say that I don't have a sense of humor.
PS. This will be my last complaining post about smoking in Israel.
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