Got Wind?

Sometimes things are not as they appear...or smell.


Dave and I went on a romantic date to the grocery store. Here's how the next few hours went.


We got in the car.

Dave: "Did you fart?"

Me: "No."


We got home and put the food we'd bought in the fridge.

Dave: "Did you fart?"

Me: "No!"


I got the broccoli out and put it in the steamer.

Dave: "Did you fart?"

Me: "No!!!"


And then we noticed that the broccoli was rather mushy and a bit on the liquidy side in the bag...and totally smelled like the worst fart ever.


Um...thanks for the romantic scapegoating, darlin'. Good thing I know that Dave totally loves his vegetables.

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The Kid Makes me Wonder if Honesty is the Best Policy

The kid is always asking me why I talk to strangers.

Well, today the answer was, "Because you farted in the elevator, and it was really potent, and I thought that lady deserved to know what she was getting into."

And what did that lady stranger say?  "I'll be fine."


Can't say I didn't warn her.

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Why Buy it When you can Make it for Free?

No, this isn't a blog post about being crafty.  Not even close.

Nope.  it's about my kid coming to me today wanting to order something off of Amazon.


Little guy:  "Can you order this to me?  I'll pay for it."

He shows me a web page with something called a "fart bomb".

Me:  "Why do you want this.  You can fart on your own and make those noises."

Little guy:  "It's not a noise thing, it's a smell thing."

Me:  "You can fart on your own and make those smells."

Little guy:  "It's not the same.  And I could just throw one in my room when my friends are in there and hold the door closed."

Me:  "Oh, so you want me to buy something that will stink up my house and is also something that you can make with your own body for free?"

Little guy:  "Yeah, it'll be awesome...and I'll pay for it."


Somehow I suspect that I'd end up paying for it in some way or another.


Me:  "I love you stinky...but no!"

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The Things I Say

For the life of me I have no idea why I'm still surprised by the things I find myself saying.

The little guy had been assigned a lovely sketch assignment many weeks ago.  It was due the next day.  What does he do when I nag him (again) about it?

He toots.


Me:  "Art, not fart."


I think that has a future as a bumper sticker.

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