the vicious daisy smokes

So I told my shrink that I don't think my sleeping meds are working to their full potential. She asked me if I was taking them with food as suggested. "Of course." I said.
"What food?"
Well yesterday I took them with a Pop Tart and the day before that I had them with a bag of Skittles.
"You're supposed to take them with healthy food!"
"That is healthy food."
"So what exactly do you consider to be unhealthy food?"
Anthrax.
She stared at me blankly. She does that a lot. I actually don't think she's very good. She always seems quite stunned when I'm talking. They say that most people have a love/hate relationship with their shrinks. I think we've hit the "hate" part.

Not listening to the advice of doctors has always been one of my hobbies, along with smoking near babies and chasing cats.

I've recently been kicked out of my Nicotine Cessation Program. I was accused of insubordination, lying and subterfuge by the evil Russian doctor running the thing. I don't know what some of those words mean so I deny everything. However, I did lie. When I walked into his office the first time he asked me if I had just had a smoke. I said no. He said, "Yes you did." "No. I didn't."  "I was watching you through the window. You had a smoke." I think he was a KGB spy.
One time the evil doctor was facilitating a group therapy when he asked the question "Why do you smoke?" I raised my hand and preceded to go on a ten-minute monologue beginning with, "Because smoking is fabulous..." I talked about how I've so met many cool people in dirty smoking areas, how a smoke break give me a peaceful moment away from the assholes populating my day, and most importantly I had only recently perfected flicking my butts through the air really really far. (Although I have to watch that. I have flicked butts into garbage cans, open car windows, and once into a woman's hair.) By the end of my speech the Russian just glared at me. He said, "You are really something."  I sighed, " I know".
He said to me, " If you had saved up all the money you spent on cigarettes this year you could have gone on a cruise." "I don't want to go on a cruise," I said, "I want to fucking smoke."  Well. That was the end.
I muttered a few awful things on the way out. As we all know - I wear my emotions on my middle finger.

Somehow, the Russian got one last little magical dig in. Going home I cupped my hands to light up a smoke and set my transfer on fire. I walked home.