Ever since I started making my own money, or when I was making money, whatever. Now that I have some money, I've always wanted to do things people with money do. For instance, rich people drink hard liquor. They sip cognac on the rocks or straight up. They don't do it to get trashed. Oh no, they do it cuz they actually like the taste! They actually enjoy swishing rubbing alcohol in their mouths! I could never understand why, but I was determined to find out. I am sophisticated too! So we'd be at a wedding or out at a nice place for drinks. I don't wanna look like a commoner and order a beer, and wine just seems a lil floosy. There is absolutely no way to look cool and manly with five fingers wrapped around the tiny stem of a wine glass. The problem is, besides the fact that I find this stuff disgusting, is figuring out how to order this stuff. It totally defeats the purpose if you can't even order your drink properly. It's not like you can just go up there and say, "Hennessey on the rocks." Or can you? Can I just ask for cognac? What if they ask me what kind? "Nothing but your absolute finest, kind sir." And what's the difference between cognac and scotch? I see people ordering Chivas, so I did that for a while. Problem is, I don't know how to pronounce it properly. I'd hope the person in front of me would order something cool, so I can just ask the bartender to make it two. Otherwise, I'm stuck with ordering a cranberry/vodka. I always thought juice in a drink was girly, but apparently guys can pull off the Ketel/cranberry combo. Is it that bad that I just want a piña colada or strawberry daquiri?! It's got alcohol AND it tastes delicious. So anyways, I'll have my glass of rich man's drink, and I'll be miserable the entire time as I try to look cool without gagging. Eventually, I just give up and put it down somewhere. One of these days I'll get it. It's like an obsession. Every vacation we'd go on, I'd have to buy a nice bottle of alcohol. We're talking $200+ per. So I have bottles of Camus, Macallan and of course my beloved Louie on display in the old dining room. Do I ever plan on drinking them? No way. I don't even wanna open them for others to drink. I just like looking at them, knowing that I can buy them now. Growing up, I'd always see all these bottles in my uncle's liquor cabinet, and I always wanted that for myself someday. I just never thought I'd be too simple to not wanna drink them.

Anyways, long story long, cigars are another thing rich guys do. You see it all the time, just puffin on a phat stogie. It just looks so pimp. So the entire time we're planning our move to Bermuda, I'd tell Sandy that the first thing I'm gonna do once we've got our place on the water, I'm gonna sit on the patio and smoke a cigar, just taking in our new surroundings. I'd talk about this daily. Nevermind the fact that I don't smoke. I hate even the faintest smell of cigarette smoke. This is different. This is sophisticated. And that's what I am. So first week on the island, I'm asking every one I see where I can go to purchase cigars. These people must think I'm fancy shmancy. I find the store, get three mild Cubans for beginners, lighter fluid for my Zippo (which I brought just for this ocassion) and a cool silver cigar-cutter thing. We moved in Friday. Smoked one that afternoon. Actually I only smoked half. The buzz was getting to be a bit much. No biggie. I'll save the rest for
another day. Two for the price of one. Didn't really see what the hype was all about. Doesn't taste good in your mouth or anything. It's not like I enjoy breathing in the smoke. That actually makes me quite sick. Whatever. Baby steps. I decide to smoke the secold half on Sunday afternoon. Weather was nice, Sandy's outside reading her $10 People magazine. She of course doesn't understand my infatuation with cigars. Says smoking cigars is worse than cigarettes. She goes inside. First, Scooby wanders off towarda the back of the house. Sandy tells me to call him back. Maybe I stood up too fast cuz, after that point, things start turning for the worse. That or when I breathed in a big cloud of smoke and almost choked. I of course held it in to not give Sandy anything to laugh about. I felt so sick, but I toughed it out like a soldier and finished my cigar. I can't even sit outside anymore. I go in and lie down on the bed next to Sandy and the dummies. My head is pounding, my stomach is in knots and I wanna gag every time I breathe in and smell the smoke all over me. I try sleeping, but my head is freaking spinning. It's seriously worse than any state of drunkedness or hangover I've ever had. It's like my own personal cigar nightmare. Finally, I just can't take it anymore. I gotta go throw up or something. Of course I can't do it in the bathroom cuz I don't wanna hand my beloved wife an "I told you so" on a silver platter. So I take our garbage bag, go outside, hunch over like a drunk homeless guy and proceed to throw up Arizona iced tea for a while. I was able to go back and fall asleep, but I didn't feel quite right the rest of the day. How do people do it?! It could be the quality of the cigar, though I doubt it. It was a $10.20 H. Upmann Cuban. The chick said it was mild and good for a beginner! Or I'm just never gonna be sophisticated. Now I dunno what to do. I have two more $10 cigars! If I smoke them, Sandy will nag me the entire time and ridicule me when I feel sick afterwards, which I'm sure I will. But rich people do it all the time, while drinking their scotch on the rocks! And they love it!