After seeing Dallas' thermal fart cam..
Men are simple...easily satisfied. We don't require and in fact, don't want to get too deep about a lot of things. Good beer buzz early in the morning. Good ball game on the tube. A ribeye cooked just right. Steady tail. It doesn't take much. We're simple creatures.
And one thing that can put a smile on a man's face is lighting someone up with a well placed cheesy blaster that elicits a good cussing from said recipient of the noxious nugget. Made my little brother cry one time when I ruined his morning bowl of Count Chocula by pausing as I walked by to put a new part in his hair.
Farts make me laugh. I honestly don't want to breathe anyone else's ass but you just have to appreciate the successful, situational fart. Ever ruined the day for an elevator full of strangers? Ever crop-dusted several tables of people in a restaurant on the way to the bathroom? Ever given the wife or girlfriend a Dutch Oven? (Okay, that would cross the line at my house) What's your moment of triumph? Of course, you know that this...or any story....has to involve in-laws. Suffice it to say, Seatbelts do save lives.
I was in the car one afternoon with a couple of stops to make before I picked up the brother and father in law to head to a basketball game in Troy. All day, I had been blowing the tushy trumpet with increasingly lethal results. These were bad. Reeeal bad. So much so, I had to roll the windows down to air the car out on the way to pick them up so they wouldn't get in and ask what the hell died in here? I knew it was just a matter of time before another one began brewing and sure enough, as we sped up 231, one was soon knocking at the door. I prayed that #1. I could eek this out without detection, and 2. I didn't shart my khakis when I let it go.
Success on both fronts. I already had tears welling up while I tried to stifle the impending laughter when this vile thing I had unleashed found its targets. Then.....BOOM GOES THE DY-NO-MITE!!! BIL in the front seat began speaking tongues as he searched frantically through the haze to find the window button. The other reaction was not one I expected. FIL in the back seat was gagging as he pulled the door handle hard and hastily tried to exit the vehicle....at 65 m.p.h. He was restrained by the seatbelt which kept him inside. But, I actually had to holler at him and bring him to his senses because he was still trying to dive out of the car and was reaching for the latch to set himself free.
Now, to put it in perspective, when you bust a crack rattler that's so disturbing it makes a man opt for the cold hard pavement at 65 m.p.h. rather than enjoying that alluring aroma one second longer....yep, it's the simple things in life.
Farts?
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