I have definitive proof that God either A. doesn't exist, or B. is a sick fucking bastard and we should all stop worshiping him immediatly.

So like, yesterday, I'm hanging out with Lance and... I... quit smoking. It's so weird. I just didn't want a cigarette. No, I wanted a chicken sandwhich, so I ate his. But... no smoking.

On the way home? No smoking. I even went to light a cigarette and went... nah.

At the house? No cravings. I don't get cravings anyway, but I didn't want one. That's the point. I was just like "Feh" and took a nap.

I get a phone call, it's Dusty, the kid who got me smoking in the first place. He wants to hang out. All night I'm hanging out with him, going to the arcade, Pizza Hut, Walmart, riding around, I never have ONE cig. Dewayne and him are smoking like two mother fuckers, but me? Not one.

I know, so weird right?

So I finally get home after borrowing Dusty's copy of Waiting (a gross, disgusting, funny movie, but well worth watching) and I reached into my pockets to find...

...a pack of cigarettes I forgot were even there.

I'm like... ya know... I haven't touched these all day. I never wanted one. I don't even want one now. In fact, fuck this, cigarettes just waste my money and make it hard to breathe and will eventually lead to an untimely death. Ya know what, I'm gunna throw these away. But do I throw them away? Of course not! I threw them up ontop of my cd player to rot.

Now, my mother hated my smoking. I told her I quit, which was a bold faced lie, simply to get her to stop crying. So, anyhoo, back to the story.

I watch Waiting, fall asleep, wake up to my mothers screams about lying to her when she finds my back of Basics sitting on the cd player that I forgot to throw away. So I tell her the whole story about how I threw those up there intending to throw them away because I quit smoking and after ONE lie, she's not going to believe the second. Why I even threw them ontop of the CD player knowing damn well she'd come into my room in the first place is a mystery to me.

So, like I said. Either one of two things.
A. There is no God.
B. God is one sick bastard.

I know I haven't been a good person my whole life, but I'm not a murderer or a rapist. I don't go around beating on women or cheat on my girlfriend (if I had one). So when some shit like this happens, you expect a little holy intervention. When I was a Christian, it was shit like this that made me stop believing. But these are circumstances beyond one's control. Why did I suddenly quit? Why did I throw my cigs in a place easily seen, when I never do that? Why did I have to sleep until 3 pm to cause my mother to find out I just quit smoking and not believe me and have the shit hit the fan? Normal shit like this does not happen.

Except I'm still an atheist, so I'm going with answer A. But if there is a God, he has some fucking explaining to do.