FARTS

I hate to be startled. I'm not talking about the kind of startled where you wake up on your birthday and are startled by the fact that you're another year older and you haven't done all the things you had planned to do by this stage in your life. For example: climbing Everest, swimming the English channel, flying solo over the Atlantic, getting all the way through Moulin Rouge so you can try to understand what all the fuss is about. Thankfully you realize that you never wanted to do any of those things and you're relieved momentarily until you grasp the fact that you're another year older and you still haven't cleaned out the junk room (it didn't used to be called the junk room, before it was a bedroom) and then you are completely overcome with the realization that there are actually 3 junk rooms. You also have never finished an entire New York Times Sunday crossword, lost weight, or cleaned any of the other rooms. At this point you've passed startled, you're stunned, astonished, even terrified. I mean terrified like seeing a clown kind of terrified (every time Cameron on 'Modern Family' dresses up as a clown I have to hold someones hand to get through it.) Anyway, I really hate being startled and I will go from  mildly pleasant to raging beast if you startle me on purpose.

On our honeymoon (for our ADP friends we stayed in room 401) one night I was stricken with a bad case of the hiccups. The lights were out and we were trying to sleep. Suddenly, Paul screams and I levitate off the bed so high that I nearly broke my nose on the ceiling. I ran for the phone to see if there was a lawyer with late hours so I could immediately divorce this fiend that I thought would always be good to me. Yes, it cured the hiccups but I stayed awake the rest of the night with a bread knife in my hand just in case the demon shrieked again.

The demon now frightens me by farting frequently. Deafening, startling farts. At night while on the verge of sleep and this happens:

I jump out of bed wondering if it's the emergency air sirens warning of a tornado or maybe a Zombie Apocalypse. Nope, Paul farted.  Five minutes later when my heart rate returns to normal sinus rhythm he's snoring, obviously feeling much better after that booming breaking of wind. Startles me. I hate to be startled, especially by flatulence. I'm giving some thought to upgrading from the butter knife, that boy will be sounding like the Bee Gees some day if he keeps this up.

Ever eaten Beanitos? They're tasty, they have protein, fiber, they're free of GMO's, artificial flavors and colors, corn, MSG, gluten...on and on. As the name suggests, they're made from beans, radioactive beans. Beanito farts are toxic. One day, Amelia and I went to the grocery store and I Beanito farted as we were pulling in to the parking lot. We both were gasping for air so I rolled the windows down to air out the car (the leather was peeling under my butt.) I rolled the windows back up while we were in the store. It was a hot Texas day, 30 minutes later when we opened the car doors we were struck by a putrid, Beanito, level 5, defcon fart, 2 birds on a nearby wire dropped dead and the lady next to us called 911 to report a gas leak. When I explained to her it was a fermented Beanito fart she also asked for the police. Beware the Beanito fart, they don't have a warning label on the bag but consider yourself forewarned.

At this point of the story I'm going to change the names to protect the guilty perpetrators of fart crimes. One late night as our family was checking in to a hotel, one family member, I'll call her Celeste, elevator farted. She thought she'd left it outside the elevator but it followed her anyway. An elevator fart removes all breathable oxygen. Fortunately, the hotel only had 3 floors so we all survived relatively unscathed even though the memory (like a Beanito fart) lingers.

I have a friend I'll call Elizabeth that never allowed her husband Kevin to poot around her (poot is her word for fart.) I don't know if that's still the case, they've been married over 30 years, have 3 kids that have probably pooted a lot so she's probably loosened the poot rules by now. She's also the friend that sings 'Trailers for Rent' in the bathroom when she's drunk, and waves at you under the stalls, or thinks it's you when it's really the waitress. But that's a whole 'nother story!!!!

A few random point point point(s) I want to make!

I woke up this morning with bite marks on my ankles, no you sickos Paul didn't make them and they weren't bug bites, they were actual bite marks. Princess Willa has a KING size bed and if you happen to move your foot in front of her teeth she will bite you. It's not pleasant.

That look says it all.

I have a necklace that is my late mother-in-law's fingerprint that I wear daily, even if I'm not leaving the house. I used to leave it on the dresser at night but the aforementioned cat would steal it. I do love the word aforementioned - I don't use it enough and I also love the word capricious. I rarely use it - instead I use the more common synonym - shit head. Speaking of words I love - one of my favorites is "point." Yes, point. If you are on a computer keyboard (not your phone or tablet) type the word point and see if it's not the most fun you will have while typing! Anyway, now I leave it in Paul's cuff link box because so far she hasn't figured out how to open that to steal jewelry. Yes, she's a cat and she steals, she's a cat burglar.  This morning the box was gone and I went in to full on panic mode. Of course, I knew that it was here, but there was a tiny amount of fear until I found it. You can see the necklace in the ridiculous pictures below. 

That faraway look that says, "I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

This is the necklace.

I have no idea how to take selfies. I mean I understand how to work the camera but I don't know where to look. Thus we play the count the chins and what is she looking at game.  Do y'all remember when I was stick figure skinny and I could eat anything I wanted and never gain weight? I miss those days so much.

I went to the doctor today and girls, I know you know what I'm talking about! I get up and I've got 45 minutes until my appointment and I need to pee. What to do? You never know if they will need a urine sample. Should I go ahead and pee, drink a lot of water on the way and hope I can go if they need it, or do I wait? If I wait what if I'm in an accident? Or worse, what if I cough or sneeze? Such a dilemma. 

When Katy was around 4 the doctor needed a urine sample. I took her to the bathroom and told her she needed to pee in the cup. Oh my. She started crying and saying (loudly), "cups aren't for peeing, they're for drinking!" She had a point point point - (that never gets old!) Needless to say, no urine sample was obtained and when I went to tell the nurse that we failed she said, "I know, I heard!"

I almost had a wreck today because a lady waved at me when I let her merge in front of me, the gesture was so shocking I almost ran off the road. Later, I was next to someone that honked the second the light turned green because the people in front of him didn't immediately hit the gas and go. As God as my witness do that to me and you've got a good 5-10 seconds before I think about moving my foot from the brake to the accelerator and those seconds are going to feel like a lifetime when you're an asshole. If you can't wait even a second before you lay on that horn then you need to leave earlier or stay home. You should probably have your blood pressure checked before you stroke out while driving. You're a menace. You're a capricious, aforementioned, jackass. I believe I've made my point point point.