Not For The Faint Of Fart. Heart! I Meant Heart!

So Smith is too busy to read here anymore, or at least I assume he is, seeing as he's off training and whatnot and is too busy to call or email. Not that that should matter because we're on a break right? Or should we be? (Except, I think maybe we're broken up. Right?) I'm lost. Anyone else?

(By the way, if you don't watch the tv show Lost, may I take a moment to suggest you get yourself caught up before the new season starts next year? Yeah. You should. Awesome.)

OK, disjointed post anyone?

Anyway, since I'm guessing Smith's not finding much leisure time to access this site anymore I feel free to regale you with stories that involve his butt. Also, to post photos of said butt.



OK, so maybe not as much of a butt-shot as some of you might have been hoping for, but still. Allow me to point out that it's the most appropriate photo I have for the story I'm about to share. Plus, I promised I'd show you the photos of him enthralled with the "coolest slug ever". So, there you go.

The photo also includes a glimpse of one of my "awesome" tarps. Did I mention how in love with my tarps Smith was? He was very much so. Apparently I bought the best tarps ever. I'm just cool that way I guess.

Anyhoo...

When Smith was here visiting a few weeks ago, we did some camping. Now, as a rule, I insist that at least one night of camping involves nothing but junk food. So, after a meal of Kraft Dinner, Corona, strawberries ( they snuck in there somehow), pistachios and sour cream and onion chips, we sat around the campfire and discussed big things. Like, what the heck were we going to do about the fact that we don't live in the same town and may never be able to do so. It was with rather heavy hearts we decided to call it a night when Smith reached his "tired point".

Smith, you see, gets tired and that's it. He gets tired and he needs to go to bed. He falls asleep and that's the end of it. ( Sometimes this is enough to make me want to tie his shoelaces together. I am jealous of those who sleep well, especially when I'm not. ) I didn't expect much conversation from Mister Sleepy-who-was-four-hours-ahead-in-terms-of-time-zones once we'd cleaned up and bedded down for the night. I was surprised, therefore, to hear Smith say "Uh oh", not long after we'd piled under the covers.

"Uh oh what?" I said, turning to him, wondering if he'd forgotten to lock the car or something thereby needing one of us to venture out into the cold. He looked at me and said, rather solemnly,

" I farted."


"And it's a bad one."

(Now, Smith knows, as do all my friends and acquaintances, that I grew up in a house where you do not say the F word. We know sometimes people do this f-a-r-t-i-n-g but we do not refer to it as such and we do not laugh about it or talk about it or do it on purpose. As I've said before, I am a delicate creature, or, at least, I was raised to be so. And, well, tooting in front of people is something I do my best to avoid.)

So I, of course, burst out laughing and did my best 5 year old boy impression "Ewww, SMITH! EWWW. That's disgusting, don't say that, how could you say that? Ewwww gross!"

Smith looked at me.

"No, really. It's really bad. Like, really." The wisdom of our dinner choices was suddenly called into question.

"Well, whatever you do, don't let it out" I declared, knowing full well the wisdom of containing a "stinky one" within the confines of its originating area.

"No" said Smith, " I have to let it out, I can smell it and I'm going to die. It has to equalize"

"Equalize?" I stared at him, my voice starting to rise in panic "What do you mean it has to equalize? No, it has to stay contained. Where it is!"

At which point, the insanity began.

You see, Smith decided not only to lift the covers, but to FAN THEM!

Yes. Fan them. INSIDE A TENT!

He said something about equalizing or equilibrium or dissipating and all I could think was "I do not want to smell Smith's smelly toot! This is not sexy! Also! I do not want to be stuck in a tent with a smelly toot!"

"Stop! Fanning! Fanning will make it worse! I don't want to smell it!" I shout, tears streaming down my face, my sides aching from laughing so hard.

"You don't smell it yet? You're so lucky?" he gasps, continuing to fan.

" No... I don't, and it's going to stay that way, I think I'm safe! Stop fanning already, it's friggin freezing!"

And then it happened. It hit me.

Let me tell you, if it had not been such a cold night, or had I been wearing more than my skivvies, I would have made my escape right then and willingly sacrificed myself to a quick death by the local cougar.

"Why Smith? Why did you fan?" I pleaded. "Why did you make me have to smell that? That's just so wrong! No! Oh Lord, save me, please!" I groaned, my pillow pressed tight against my face.

We lay there for a while, willing IT to go away and we debated the relative merits of "letting it sit safely on HIS side" v/s "the need for it to be let out and lessened" and I kept that pillow pressed against my face for a long long time, convulsing periodically in laughter.

Smith, eventually, fell asleep. ( Or, maybe he passed out, that's possible too)

I, however, did not. I was like a pre-teen girl at her first sleepover. Every few minutes, just when I thought I'd calmed down, I would burst into giggles again.

It was, in that moment, the funniest thing that had ever happened to me.

I'm kind of glad now that IT happened just then. It gave us something to laugh at. And, if you'd been there I think you would have laughed too. (Had you not passed out.) It gave us some adversity to survive together.

No, really. I have a brother. I know stinks. This was. Beyond. This could have taken down evil dictators in a single sniff. We survived it. Together.

Shudder.

So there. When they next go searching for WMDs? You can all point to the above picture.

Smith's bottom has the potential to cause uncontrollable laughter and cause widespread panic and destruction. All in one... smell swoop. Er. I meant fell.



PS. If you're wondering, I did, indeed, write this post before this one. It's the roller coaster you see. One minute waaaaaay up! The next minute? This.