I've Done it Hundreds of Times.
It was a surge in general.
The best method is the last method you try
He used the patch.
Heโs been Davy Jonesing
but it's hard, being cojoint twins.
Bad hobbits die hard.
But I still get the urge to go into the fridge and light up a slice.
It sure is hard to keep lit though.
His coat kept catching on fire
It was a real drag.
After dinner just quit "Cold Turkey". This way your lungs won't be "Black Friday".
I need at least one weiss.
He joined a twelve steppe program.
But Iโve started smoking cigarettes.
I had to quit cold turkey.
Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevorโs love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Trevorsโs degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevorโs front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasnโt keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.
Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.
โWellโ said Jeff, โAs Iโm sure you know the convention comes to town laterโ.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
โYes of courseโ replied Trevor
... keep reading on reddit โกWhen I was a kid, my favourite thing ever was tractors. It was my first word, my first toy, I had posters of them on my bedroom walls and I loved to draw them too. Unfortunately with age I donโt quite have the same amount of passion nowadays. This all became relevant recently as there was this house fire on my street last week. My instincts told me to enter the house to save the family inside as the Fire Service hadnโt arrived yet. I was able to break down a door and actually clear all of the smoke from the house saving everyone inside. I escorted them out to be greeted by the Fireman who had just arrived. Puzzled, they asked how on earth I was able to clear all the smoke. I simply replied โIโm an extractor fanโ.
Me: I haven't posted to /r/dadjokes all day!
Wife: I'm so proud of you baby! That must have been really hard!
Me: Yeah, it's like quitting smoking, cold turkey.
My wife then looks at me, smiles evilly, and lets out a low self appreciative chuckle.
Me: What's so funny?
Wife: You can't smoke cold turkey.
Unfortunately it quit smoking last week
He could finally quit smoking for good.
HI Iโm Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didnโt even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldnโt stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. โTimโ, he said, โYou have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heavenโ. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didnโt know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasnโt surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldnโt be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didnโt want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n
... keep reading on reddit โกI had cooked smoked sauasge and was chopping jalapeรฑos and cut the tip off my finger.
He texted me while at the emergency room commenting on the sausages:
"The sausages are really good but there is something different about them and I can't quite put my finger on it"
He followed up with this when my girlfriend and I returned from the hospital:
"Elizabeth are you hungry? We have some finger sandwiches if you are."
So this morning on my way to work I stopped at a Walgreens to grab some snacks and drinks. (For those unknowing, it's a pharmacy/grocery) I recently quit smoking and found the snacking helps on cravings.
Anyhow, the clerk rings me up and says my total: "$7.11." Without even thinking it I blurt out "It's not a seven-eleven. It's a Walgreens."
Suddenly terrified that I am apparently a dad, I grabbed my stuff and left, the haunting echoes of laughter behind me.
Brother: The hood isn't collecting the smoke very well.
Dad: What?
Brother: Smoke.
Dad: No thanks. I quit a while ago.
Badum ts.
I have done it many times
