Rehashed: The Week in Odor
This blog is NOT for the faint of heart!!! DO NOT READ if you did not laugh your ass off when Lloyd Christmas was lighting his farts on fire in Dumb & Dumber
This week has been, perhaps, one of the most odorific weeks in recorded history! Some of you may have read my blog from yesterday regarding one of my dogs farting, but that is only a part of the splendor I have smelt this week.
It all started Monday when a coworker of mine emitted the most unholy of anti-Christ gas in modern history. Initially, he vehemently denied his actions, but finally copped to it when confronted by several other workers. He took the dubious honors of having launched a most heinous air biscuit.
No later than 30 minutes, the entire second floor was engulfed in the most rancid stench known to man. Apparently, a fish somehow crawled into the air ducts and proceeded to decompose at a very rapid rate. Well, at least that’s what it smelled like. A few of us on the second floor evacuated to safety. When we returned, several of the girls on the second floor had gone around spraying perfume to cover the smell. The combination of rotting fish and perfume just smelled like a really bad hooker. This lasted for a solid 15 minutes or so. No one ever figured out where the smell came from. I believe it might have been consequences of the Bermuda Triangle.
If you read my blog from yesterday, you know that one of my dogs floated an air biscuit that could have choked an elephant. However, this was nothing compared to the now infamous gassing of Thursday, January 26, 2006! Whilst attending a West Coast Swing Dance class this evening, the guy in the front of me in the rotation launched a series of silos with no regard for human life whatsoever. I have to believe that the bacteria in his colon cannot be of this earth. It most certainly is not your garden variety intestinal flora. He proceeded to launch this attack on our olfactory neurons not once! NOT TWICE! NOT THRICE! But four times during the span of just 20 minutes.
The second silo was the most devious of them all; not because of the particular blend of decadent colon matter. No! Indeed, it was the timing of the second attack… what I have called the sneak attack. Just moments after the wonderful
West Coast Swing Dance instructor called on the men to rotate to the
next partner, the son of a bitch launched the Pearl Harbor of farts (which stunk up the studio more than Ben Affleck in the movie).
I arrived at precisely the same time as the heat from his retched loin burger. YES! That is correct, me and the fart got to the girl’s space at the same time. Not only did I have to suffer the humiliation of being thought of as “the fart guy”, but I had to dance around in this dude’s ass nebula while the girl was thinking I’m “the fart guy”.
All is well that ends well though. After rotating through the girls enough times, they realized who was really performing the sphincter evictions. Twas not I. Has anything like this ever happened to you?
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