Tales of the wind

Wow, three posts in one day? I must have a severe case of bloggerrhea. Known causes: boredom at work.

In my last post, I mentioned a fear of farting while doing yoga. Here is some insight into Umbrella's brain. I will mention something, and then obsess about it for hours. So I have spent most of the day thinking about farts.

I don't embarrass easily. Lack of pride will do that to you. But for some reason, I have a real tough time farting in front of people. Anyone who knows me would be shocked by this admission, but it's true.

The last time I blushed was about a year ago. I was grocery shopping, and I could feel some pressure building up in my gut. Luckily, it wasn't the "OMG, I'm gonna shit myself" pressure. It was the "pass gas" pressure. For most people, no big deal, but for me, I was sweating. I found an aisle that was empty, and proceeded to relieve the pain.

The problems started immediately. Problem #1 was that it was quite a bit louder than I expected. Problem #2, it stunk pretty bad. Problem #3, and this was the doozy, was a really attractive woman came around the aisle right as all of this happened. Shit!

My first instinct was "Maybe she didn't notice." This thought instantly disappeared when I saw the look on her face. If there was ever a way to say "You nasty fuck" with only facial expressions, she nailed it. At this point, I was lost. There was no save. I sheepishly pushed my cart away and got the hell out.

However, my best (or worst, depending on your point of view) fart experience happened on Halloween several years ago. The girls were still pretty young and into trick-or-treating. My ex would take them out, and I would stay at home and give out candy. My ex really got into Halloween, and our house was the coolest one in the neighborhood.

So like every year, I was at home, drinking beer, and scaring kids. The girls got home, and I proceeded with my fatherly duties of going through their candy. Neither of them liked peanuts, so I was digging around trying to find all the Snickers, Mr. Goodbars, Paydays, etc. I started scarfing them down in earnest.

Finally, my ex decided it was time to gather the decorations. We learned the hard way that if we left things out on Halloween night, they would get destroyed. So I began my husbandly duties of tearing everything down.

At this point, I think the combination of beer and peanut-infested candy formed some sort of unholy union in my gut. No biggie, I'm outside, in my own yard. I let it fly.

It didn't take long to realize this wasn't any ordinary fart. Not only did it assault the normal senses of sound and smell, I'm pretty sure I felt it, tasted it, and even saw it hanging in the air. Usually people don't mind their own brand, but this one was beyond disgusting. Luckily, the women were inside putting stuff away when this happened.

My daughters were the first to open the door. I yelled at them that they might want to stay inside. My children are intelligent, and turned right around.

My ex, on the other hand, didn't heed this advice. She came outside, and it hit her. She gagged, and barfed in the yard. It's tough to explain my emotions at this point. One the one hand, my wife is puking, and is REALLY pissed off at me. On the other, I may have created the world's most awesome fart. It's a toss up.

She started yelling at me when I tried to cut her off at the pass. I told her that I warned her not to come out here, and she chose to ignore me. She responded that she didn't think it was possible to ruin the outdoors. It's a good point, and up until then, I didn't think it was possible either. I do know that her yelling at me wasn't helping my issues with farting at all. I wonder, are these issues are related to my fear of shitting in public restrooms? I guess that is analysis for some other time.