Big red letter warning–way way way tmi straight ahead. Forge on if you’re brave…
My darling husband has had…shall we say…a bit of a rumbly tummy this evening which has resulted in sudden odoriffic blasts of death that give absolutely no auditory warning of impending doom to the innocent passerby.
After one too many times of getting nasally assaulted (seriously–so bad it was almost like I could taste it), I asked my wonderful husband if it wouldn’t be too much trouble to maybe warn me verbally when he was about to let loose so I could leave the room. ‘Cause I enjoy breathing and all. Without a gas mask.
He grumbled and whined that really, was it SO bad and besides how did I know it was even him (uh, hmm…it wasn’t me and Owen’s been asleep for over an hour?) and slunk off to the bedroom to listen to his UVa (go ‘Hoos!) football game.
Ten minutes later:
Trena’s husband (urgently and loudly from bedroom): Pssst!!!! Pssst!!!
Trena (who tears from office to bedroom because it sounds serious): What’s the matter?
*The unmistakable stench commences to reach my nose and slap me around a bit*
Trena’s Husband (broadly grinning like the village idiot): I just wanted to let you know that I farted. You know, in case you were wondering.
Trena: *thinks dark thoughts, twitches and mumbles under breath* Hmmph
Seriously ladies, I know, I KNOW. But sadly, he’s all mine
and I’m stuck with him like crappy Halloween candy the day after Halloween and not up for grabs.
He does however have a younger brother who is still very single. Line starts to the left.