I have realized that no matter how old I am, I will always enjoy talking about farting. And pooping. No really – I enjoy talking about these things. All the time. Much to the horror of my family (minus Jeremy who also enjoys these chats).
I like to justify my joy of talking about these things to me being very health conscious. That works, right? RIGHT?!
Anyways – I really just wanted to title this post “Contending with Fumes and Fart Clouds” based on an e-mail exchange I have going on with some pals. Apparently I seek out friends who also enjoy discussing farting and pooping.
We’re meeting up for dinner at a local Mexican joint (Arcos in Fell’s Point) because
(1) I love Mexican food.
(2) I have a coupon. Economic crisis = coupon clipping.
(3) It’s a nice belated bday dinner for 2 pals.
(4) I haven’t had a nice dinner with these girls in awhile.
Of course, talking about Mexican food lends itself to fart chat. As one friend so eloquently wrote, “I love Mexican food and I’m sure [my husband] will appreciate it later when he succumbs to my gassy ways.”
To which I told her she was preaching to the farticular choir.
Sadly – I laughed about farting yesterday for much longer than any 28 year old should. But really – will it ever get old?
The conversation continued today when a pal suggested carpooling to save on car fumes and then added, “but after dinner we will have other fumes to contend with!” I’m sure it’s not that funny to you, blogosphere but I’m amazed at my maturity level sometimes. I still can’t stop laughing!
My poor dogs don’t realize that they’re the real victims in all of this because when they’re sleeping under the covers, they’ll be inhaling my fart cloud (that is what Jeremy calls the toxic fumes under our covers at night… although most would refer to it as a dutch oven).
Another pal added today that her hubby “likes to say he has so much love inside that it’s oozing out” and likes to refer to his farts as “love bubbles”.
I truly don’t understand couples that don’t pass gas in front of each other. Ladies – we know you do it! Don’t lie! I think the toughest part in a relationship when it comes to pooting is getting that first one out of the way. My theory is that you should go big or go home. What did I do? I pinned Jeremy down on the ground and farted on him. I think it was that exact moment that he knew he wanted to marry me.
Okay – now back to adult life.