It's funny: when I'm by myself in my crappy little green car, I swear like a sailor. I appreciate the crude, the irreverent, and the gross: zit humour, barf humour, poop humour, immaturity--I love it all. But, I don't do fart humour for some reason. I don't know why. I'm not a prude, nor am I a princess (no wait--I kinda am. Whatevs), but I am the type of curmudgeon who laments that fart jokes have made their way into TV land. I want to spout out crap like; "when I WAS A KID, they never talked about farts on TV!"
I certainly find it as funny as the next person. I still tell the story about the lady in my pilates class a year or two ago now, who blew one right in the middle of doing some kinda sit-up stretch. Sure, I wanted to laugh--so did a lot of people. I laughed when my disgusting brother crammed the stuffed skunk toy my little sister had made in home-ec up against his butt and blew one into it. I didn't laugh when he did that to my bed pillow (which, by the way, really held the stank in). I kinda thought it was funny when little Ella RIPPED ONE OFF in the walk-in-clinic's waiting room, but I had to act disapproving, because hey, we're not total animals I think.
However, when Ms. Sherilin at Laughing My Abs Off presented me with this grotesque award, and I learned that I had to tell a fart story, I felt a little daunted. But then, this little voice inside me said; "SUCK IT UP, PRINCESS, YOU LURV A CHALLENGE."
Okay, this may be the first and last time you'll hear me tell a gaseous story about myself. It casts me in an even worse light than my freaking double chin does. OH well...let 'er rip...
Back in my early 20's, when I was merely DATING The Man, I had a huge, huge phobia of farting in front of him. Huge. But, what happens when you go on a date out for dinner, and eat a huge meal? You blow up like a BALLOON. So, often I'd be at his little university boy room with him, with my stomach booping and bonging, and I'd laugh and say; "tee hee, I guess I'm still hungry!", pathetically trying to pass the heinous noises off as hunger growls.
Hungry, my ass.
The first time we went away together, was to Las Vegas. We were 24 or 25. First of all people, what does an airplane ride do to your guts? Fills them with AIR. So, after getting off the plane and checking in to our hotel room, we hit the strip. We were so excited when we saw the sign "HALF POUND HOT DOG AND SODA $1.99" Wow! Did we split one though? No, we were idiots. We got one each. What does a half pound of hot dogs equal? Six?!? Well, it's a FREAKING LOT. Neither of us could finish it. But what does one do on vacation? THEY EAT. The food was fantastic. The dinners were huge. We had sweetie buns for breakfast one morning. What does all this do to the stomach?
Well, mine was getting worse and worse and worse. I was desperately trying to pound back the anti-gas tablets, but my system really just wanted to get rid of all that WIND. The Man, however, seemed to be in no discomfort at all. Perhaps this is because boys can take a crap ANYWHERE: at work, at the Wal of Evil, at the freaking grocery store, and never be embarrassed. I probably had POOP STAGE FRIGHT, and was unable to go, while I desperately tried to maintain my sexy girlfriend image.
It was getting worse and worse. I could hardly sleep at night. One night, while drifting off on my stomach, one SQUEAKED OUT, and I was so mortified I couldn't really fall back to sleep after that.
Finally things came to a head one day when I went to use the bathroom to pee:
Mortified. Totally mortified. I just sat there on the can in silence.
Then The Man started singing;
"Getting to KNOW YOU, getting to KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU!"
Then he laughed and laughed.
I laughed too, but I also kinda wanted to cry.
I couldn't care less. Let's give a big hand to the end of romance! Har har.
Okay, I'm supposed to pass this on to 5 people, but since I never play by the rules, I'm just gonna pass this off to my homegirl B. at Say YES or else!!!
Your click tells me that you LURV me