4 Different Types Of Tobacco Users

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The Try Hard

This guy bought his pipe at a flea market while hanging out with his nana. He will wear a knock off Rolex and relentlessly try to convince you it’s real because he thinks it’ll boosts his status within the group. His credit card has been declined at last call on more than one occasion yet each time he insists on berating the waiter and blaming the machine because he thinks it’s funny. He will typically one-up everything you say because having the last word gives him some control over the web of lies his life has become. He will use a goddamn yellow Bic lighter to light the garbage tobacco he buys by the pound.

This is the type of guy that will do extra work while making everyone else look bad with the intent of jumping rank. He will wear his boat shoes to the gym, bowling, golfing, showering, while sticking it to a soft and pudgy six, to formal, to class, to and during absolutely any and all activities regardless of the setting. Although his dedication and lack of self control is kind of a TFM, don’t be fooled because it is all an act and a sham.

The Enthusiast

This guy is a combination of the cigar and cigarette guy with just a touch of the dipper. He’s a well-rounded individual. He doesn’t get embarrassed or self-conscious. He answers the door in his speedo and makes it seem like you’re the one with the problem. You can’t help but envy him every time you see him spark up a conversation with a group of random girls like he’s known them since kindergarten. The wooden pipe he smokes was passed down from his grandfather to his father and now to him. On a cool September afternoon, you’ll find him hanging out with close friends on the front porch with a case of beer while they sing along to one of Karlson’s playlists.

He is the guy that can pull off a stripper lay with seamless execution but chooses not to because his phone is cluttered with hard seven to tens. He will help you without being condescending, like a big brother. He’ll make sure you fight your own battles but will instantly pounce into action to kick ass when you get unfairly jumped.

The Explorer

This guy is a young Christopher Columbus (minus all the indigenous killing). Haphazardly flowing through the sea of life trying to find a purpose, yet always fucking up and never admitting fault. Remember children, every tool has a purpose; bongs, glass pipes, and hookahs are for pot. That’s it. If you ever meet a guy that wants to smoke tobacco out of any of these instruments, it’s likely that he will be the one wearing cargo shorts with a blazer over a Lil’ Wayne T-shirt.

This guy will be the first to sing like a canary and sell you out 100% of the time to save his ass no matter how minor the offense. He probably has a “tribal” tattoo around his bicep or some inspirational poem on his calf. He is the type of guy that will drone on about the “rules” of drinking and then dunk on the pong table ruining the moment. He is the guy that will record questionable pledging activities and singlehandedly force the administration to invoke probation. He is the one that somehow slithered through the cracks of bidding and is now a cancer within your organization. Stay clear of this guy.

The Pouch Guy

The pouch guy strikes me as a straight edge. He grew up in a strict and religious household where Jesus was praised and porn was shamed. He didn’t get to see his first tit until 11th grade and even then he was too scared to really appreciate its beauty. He chooses pouches because, even in his twenties, his mind is still brittle, and the thought of edging out tramples the little self respect he possesses. But even though it’s nothing more than a mere spineless attempt at rebellion, dipping a pouch is his own way of fighting against the constraints of the life his parents programmed for him. He wants to be accepted, included, but he goes about it the wrong way. The pouch is a baby step and hopefully a gateway into the majestic free range of long cut that will destroy his gums and make him a man. Nonetheless, to quote Kappasaurus, “Fuck pouches. There you go.”

As with everything, there is one exception to setting aside your convictions and cheating your body by dipping a pouch — Snus. This type of derogation is only accepted in desperate times where spitting is not exactly an option, like standing at the altar during a wedding. But the moment it’s over, you better get rid of that disgusting sign of weakness, pop in a fat lip and take a few cracks at the newly-wed bride.

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