Joni Mitchell, peaches, and ice water. Hot coffee with cream and caramel cake. Provari? Check. Credit card? Check. Blazing speed, oh Internet. It's my 60th birthday. Let's rock.
Mister E-juice, you son of a gun. I haven't seen you in a while. You were my first, you know. One year ago was my last night with the black ashes of Marlborough, and you woke me with flavor and sunshine. How about some more Apples to Oranges, Mocha Java, Pure Michigan strawberries, and that swinging Blue Voodoo? Better let me have some Pink Dragon and Straight Grape in case I start feeling a-peak-ed.
A long, naughty vape of Mt. Baker Vapor Sticky Bun and I'm rolling on the river with Creedence. I celebrated Halloween and my cupboard is bare. Gimme Candy Corn, Mister Baker. I want Butterscotch and Maple Pecan and Maraschino Cherry with your sweet Whipped Cream. Add the Absinth and Amaretto, if you please; toilet-papering trees was thirsty work.
And in what shall I vape these sweet nectars? I'll salute O.C.D. and his Harem in the Desert Tent of IB Tanked. His tanks are colorful containers that bathe my precious juices whilst making them pop with pleasure. Another 10 tanks in my favorite colors, Master O.C.D. And I pause for reflection with a little Ludwig Van.
The senators, congress-critters, and powers-that-be all fear The Flavor of the juice. They fear it could call the Young to the addictive power of nicotine. They do not understand that (unlike we who survived the black ashes and black lungs along the trails of Marlborough Country) our youth are Children of the Internet. They are armed with good knowledge. Most don't disregard it.
The young can have the Flavor of the juice. They don't have to choose nicotine as well.
Birthday it may be, but I'll dream of a White Christmas with Bing a bit. Three more Provaris I shall have on this day, and a hallowed supply of sumptuous Virgin Vapor. Pecan Pie and Pirate's Pudding, Eggnog, Chocolate, and Hot Buttered Rum. A double espresso to chase Thanksgiving dinner and a Velvet Kona Milkshake with presents on Christmas morn.
$2,000. Happy Birthday to me.
Martin Barrington of Phillip Morris and Murray S. Kessler of Lorillard Tobacco? You boys were once wizards between the sheets. But you got old, stinky, and were killing me harshly. I just spent the cash that you would have tipped your waiters and found new playmates to enjoy. They each taste different, make me smell divine, and give me blissful shivers. I hope your stockholders and those you would like to seduce in the future find the Flavors of the Juice as well.
Mister E-juice, you son of a gun. I haven't seen you in a while. You were my first, you know. One year ago was my last night with the black ashes of Marlborough, and you woke me with flavor and sunshine. How about some more Apples to Oranges, Mocha Java, Pure Michigan strawberries, and that swinging Blue Voodoo? Better let me have some Pink Dragon and Straight Grape in case I start feeling a-peak-ed.
A long, naughty vape of Mt. Baker Vapor Sticky Bun and I'm rolling on the river with Creedence. I celebrated Halloween and my cupboard is bare. Gimme Candy Corn, Mister Baker. I want Butterscotch and Maple Pecan and Maraschino Cherry with your sweet Whipped Cream. Add the Absinth and Amaretto, if you please; toilet-papering trees was thirsty work.
And in what shall I vape these sweet nectars? I'll salute O.C.D. and his Harem in the Desert Tent of IB Tanked. His tanks are colorful containers that bathe my precious juices whilst making them pop with pleasure. Another 10 tanks in my favorite colors, Master O.C.D. And I pause for reflection with a little Ludwig Van.
The senators, congress-critters, and powers-that-be all fear The Flavor of the juice. They fear it could call the Young to the addictive power of nicotine. They do not understand that (unlike we who survived the black ashes and black lungs along the trails of Marlborough Country) our youth are Children of the Internet. They are armed with good knowledge. Most don't disregard it.
The young can have the Flavor of the juice. They don't have to choose nicotine as well.
Birthday it may be, but I'll dream of a White Christmas with Bing a bit. Three more Provaris I shall have on this day, and a hallowed supply of sumptuous Virgin Vapor. Pecan Pie and Pirate's Pudding, Eggnog, Chocolate, and Hot Buttered Rum. A double espresso to chase Thanksgiving dinner and a Velvet Kona Milkshake with presents on Christmas morn.
$2,000. Happy Birthday to me.
Martin Barrington of Phillip Morris and Murray S. Kessler of Lorillard Tobacco? You boys were once wizards between the sheets. But you got old, stinky, and were killing me harshly. I just spent the cash that you would have tipped your waiters and found new playmates to enjoy. They each taste different, make me smell divine, and give me blissful shivers. I hope your stockholders and those you would like to seduce in the future find the Flavors of the Juice as well.
