Art of the Fart
It's my one day off in between 8 days of working, but I'm taking some time to post because I want to get this blog going again. So without further delay . . . . . . .
I am not shy about farting. I don't try to hold it in, and I don't pretend it wasn't me when it was. Frankly, I really don't see the point of worrying about it. If you gotta fart, then fart! When, you're around friends, fart. When you're around acquaintances, fart. When you're meeting someone for the first time, fart! In fact, the best possible situation is when introducing yourself, when someone says something like, "Hi, I'm Betsy," you rip a loud one. Then say, "Hi, I'm Brad, and I just farted." There is no greater icebreaker. Imagine if someone did that to you. You wouldn't care. You'd probably laugh your ass off. There's such a stigma around farting. It's time for us to lift it. So next time you feel one coming on, don't slink away to a corner. Go up to your friends or family, put your arm around them and say "Guys, I love ya." And let one rip.
Another thing people are shy about? Masturbation. Now I'm not suggesting that when you meet someone for the first time that you pull out your pud and bust a nut in their eye. That would be a tad over the line, even for my standards. But you need to stop pretending like you're not doing it. I see all you people with your away messages on instant messenger. At work. At the rec center. In the shower. Eating dinner. Watching television. Yet not once have I seen one that said, "masturbating." Come on, folks. You tell the world every other event of your day, but when it comes to fireman time you shy away? Your friends will appreciate it. In fact, they may not even realize you're serious. Of course, for some of you, they will. Either way, it'll be funny.
The way I see it, there are two reasons to stare at somebody: if they're incredibly attractive, or incredibly ugly. I work at American Color Graphics. The ugly to attractive ratio there is somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 to 1. In fact, I would venture to say that there are more non-smokers there like me than there are attractive people. I never got to see this part of the world when I was in college. I mean, sure, there are some ugly people at college, in fact we were recently recounting a story of a time I was at a party and I had to be pulled away from an especially bad one, but the scale is tipped way in the favor of attractive ones. But when you get into the working class segment of the population, the true colors of the human race start to show, and they aren't pretty. So, I'm surrounded by ugly people all night, every night. And I find myself staring at them, pondering their hideousness. I wonder if they know. Do ugly people know they're ugly? How do you know if you're ugly? Maybe I'm ugly. What would I do if I looked like that. Would I have made it to that age, or would I have killed myself by my mid-20s. But then I remember that the only people who consider themselves ugly are not really ugly at all - at least according to the movies, and the movies are what I go by. But at a monotonous, boring job like mine, I find myself spacing out and having trains of thought like this often, sometimes while I'm staring at one my ugly co-workers. And then, inevitably that person will eventually look at me and see me looking at them. I snap out of it and quickly look away, but the damage has been done. And now I'm scared to death that about 8 women I work with think I am attracted to them because I was staring at them. But ugly people are like a fatal car wreck. Yes it looks bad, turns your stomach, even makes you want to cry - but you can't look away.
Some people can do something about it though. That is, some people are ugly by choice. I know I've harped on the "fat people wearing tight clothes" thing before, but I believe we have an epidemic on our hands. As I was walking out of a store today, I saw a woman walking in whose thighs/buttocks each weighed as much as I do, and appeared to be pulverized with a meat tenderizer. This woman's ass was so big and stuck out so much that you could have put a drink on top of it and it would not have spilled. Her ass was SO BIG that if she layed supine on the floor she would have needed a stack of about 5 phone books under her back just to keep her body level. Her ass was SOOOO BIG that she could not have crawled on her stomach under the 9'6'' clearance at a McDonald's. Ok maybe that one was a little exaggerated, but you get the idea. She was wearing shorts. SHORTS! It was not even like it was that hot out today. At the time, which was about 9 pm, it was probably only about 60 degrees out. And these shorts were tight as hell. Then again, I can't imagine a pair of shorts big enough to be loose on her. Anyway, my point is that I see stuff like this way too often. I mean, you don't see me walking around in a muscle shirt and spandex pants. I would never pain the eyes of the tax-paying citizens of this country with that scene. So my idea is to have a national system of garment choosing. Every store should have special sections sorted out by height and weight. When you walk in, you step on a scale and up against a ruler, and are given the appropriate shock collar. If you attempt to access a height/weight department that you are not authorized for, you're hit with 100 volts of juice. No exceptions should be made for people buying gifts - there could be cheating. Under this system, that woman would never have had access to the shorts she was wearing. When she walked into her neighborhood Kohl's store, the area of the store in which she had access to would have been stocked with muumuus and muumuus only.
I'm BACK. Again.