Tag Archives: farts

Yes, another fart post. There goes *that* resolution.

16 Jan

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My entire life, I’ve been told I “seem wiser than my age” or “have an old soul” or “am mature beyond my years.”

Boy, that “Playdoh with Plato” class my parents enrolled me in as a preschooler was money well spent. Actually, no, there isn’t really a class named that.

But as a kid I often did enjoy conversing with my parents’ adult friends more than kids my own age. When I first started working, I was given responsibility that aligned to someone 10+ years my senior because everyone assumed I was older. That trend continued for years.

So it’s somewhat ironic, then, that I function like a twelve year old when it comes to fart humor. I was reminded of this yesterday at yoga, when the girl next to me was clearly not having a good workout. When we started the ab portion of the class and began doing crunches, she squeaked out an audible fart. I would’ve been able to rise above it, were it not for one thing: her reaction.

Instead of continuing with her workout in a way that could’ve cast doubt as to who the culprit really was, she immediately collapsed onto her back and lay as still as a corpse while the rest of us continued hammering out crunches. It was the equivalent of seeing a football official throw a flag on a play, directing everyone’s attention to the field to spot the problem.

This gave me the giggles. I might have worked past them, had two other things not happened.

First, she did it again, the next time we did sit-ups. (Have you learned NOTHING?!) I’m thinking we need another version of the the, “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…” adage to help this poor girl learn from her mistakes.

And second, later in the workout, when we shifted from down-dog to plank (a very routine move) she collapsed. She hit the floor with an audible thud/moan combo. Half the class stopped and turned around, thinking they would see teeth scattered around on her mat.

I know, this really isn’t funny. And it’s mean of me to laugh at someone else’s embarrassment. I really do try to be a better person, to rise above it. But if it’s any excuse, I think things like this tickle me so much not because I’m enjoying her misfortune, but rather because I’m relieved it’s not me. Because another day, in another class, it has been very well could be.


Any “Modern Family” Fans in the House?

31 May

In the true spirit of the Inaugural weekend of summer, I kicked off Memorial Day weekend with a book in hand, relaxing next to Alan’s pool. Despite the temperature pushing 90, there were only a handful of people there with me.

Fortunately, the only gay couple there bore a striking resemblance to Cameron & Mitchell from Modern Family, so in addition to cooling off and relaxing, I was able to blur my eyes and imagine I was chilling at a private party in LA instead of a community pool in the suburbs of DC. Because these are the places my mind goes.

Shortly after claiming two deck chairs, they both reclined. The heavier of the two (whom I was mentally calling “Cam”) draped a towel across his eyes, as if he were at a spa. (Apparently I wasn’t the only person imagining myself elsewhere.) “Mitchell” pulled out his phone and was preparing to dial when — all of a sudden — PPBBBBFFFFTTT!

A rather noisy fart broadcast from Cam’s suit. I knew it was Cam because: a) there weren’t really any other people in the vicinity from which the noise emanated; and b) Mitchell just started shaking his head from side to side, eyes closed.

“No. You. Didn’t,” he finally mustered.

“Oh. Yes. I. Did,” Cam replied.

Rather than even ask for an explanation or lecture him about being foul, Mitchell just kept shaking his head in silence, as if resigned to it.

Watching this whole exchange over the top of my book, I was amazed with the nonchalance. It kind of reminded me of when my sister tore up a stall at the YMCA with really bad gas, then made eye contact with the other guests and — by way of explanation — said, “Didn’t want to do that on the bike.”

Screw it. If other people aren’t going to get embarrassed, then neither am I. So I pulled out my camera and took their photo. I was practically inviting them to call me on it:

Probably not a great celebrity look-alike if it means you have to cover your face with a towel.


Doing our best to give HR job security.

16 Mar

Yesterday morning I was showing a colleague a piece of corporate swag I had received at an event. It was a rubber watch made in the style of those “Silly Bandz” or “Slapz” things that are popular with kids these days.

Don’t know what I’m talking about? First, thanks for making me feel better for actually knowing what these things are. I feel much less grandma-esque now. Second, for your edification: they are rubber watches that are straight and rigid until you hit them on something – then they curve and wrap around it.

Hence this watch looks kind of like a ruler until you smack it on your wrist – then it curves and becomes a bracelet around your wrist. Get it?

Anyway, as I showed it to my colleague, she said, “Awesome! I love this.”

And then, seeing it go from curled to straight, about a beat later she exclaimed, “It’s like a little orange penis!”

At this point, she happened to realize she had SPOKEN OUT LOUD and that we were not the only people in the office. In fact, the person closest to us was a guy, separated only by a cubicle wall, left to his own imagination to figure out what we were talking about. She collapsed into a puddle of embarrassment on her desk.

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Why I will never be a comedian.

21 Feb

Yesterday I thought of something while I was walking that seemed blog-worthy, even though it was just a sentence. I can’t remember it now, but at the time, I thought it was hi-larious.

So hilarious that it occurred to me to start a “stand-up” category where I could test one-liners as if I were a comedian. Almost as soon as I had that thought, I cringed at myself, realizing that no one – and I mean  NO ONE – is funny enough to “test” their material for a non-existent stand-up routine on a non-existent audience.

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Random Thought: I need some transcendental medication.

29 Nov

Over the weekend I started battling some kind of bug. Since I have to travel for work this week, I decided to throw everything at it.

I slept a ton. I drank a pitcher of orange juice. I doubled my vitamin intake. I practically bathed in green tea. I flushed my sinuses with a neti pot. And I went to yoga for a restorative practice with the thought that it might help stimulate my lymph production. (Um, yes. I might not go in for astrology or some of the other freaky shit, but I definitely will give a nod to natural/holistic remedies when it comes to health.)

So last night I went to yoga and had a few very random – and not very zen – thoughts. Without further ado…

Ugh. This is stupid. I should be home under a blanket.

I wonder if I’ll make anyone else sick?

I should try not to look sick so people won’t get upset with me for being here.

I bet I have “sick breath.”

I’m really glad they have a bowl of lifesavers in each classroom.

That’s a nice touch.

They should also have a bowl of BeanO.

How funny would that be?

I wonder if that guy with uncontrollable farts switched studios.

Or maybe he wasn’t embarrassed. He didn’t seem to be.

If I lost control like that, I think I’d be mortified.

I wonder if anyone would recognize me after that?

I don’t think I’d recognize that guy in a police line-up.

I guess I could always cut my hair rather than switch studios.

It’s funny how people often identify people based on their hair.

And now, as I look at this, I realize: 80% of my blog content is about farts, yoga or farts at yoga. Perhaps in 2011 I will rename it “PithyPants and Stinky Mats.”