Like a Broken Record

My friend Dave and I just got home from an early Italian dinner in the gay hood. We weren't specifically looking to hang with the sisters, but it's the only Italian restaurant we could find that wasn't too smoky at 7:00 p.m. But all that changed about 35 minutes into our meal when numerous filthy whores surrounded us with their cancer sticks. So even though all was clear when we sat down, the scene quickly turned disgusting.

It's probably a good thing January 1st and the smoking ban is just weeks away. If not, I might get arrested for unruly behavior. Because when I'm sitting in a restaurant and someone lights up around me, I seriously want to walk over, politely smile, then burn their eyes out with their cigarette. Yes, I hate it that much. But, I'm sure that's no big surprise. I'm like a broken record when it comes to smoking.