Thursday, January 21, 2010


I need to get something off my chest.  

Brian is gassy.

I mean the kind of gas that once it hits my nostrils it immediately flips on my anger switch.

Of course once he sees my disgust he immediately apologizes.

But the hint of a smile on his face tells me what he's really saying.

"I'm kinda glad you got to smell my butt air."

And then, as if that little smirk wasn't enough, he sings quietly over my proclamations of disgust:

 I really don't like that song.


  1. Funny that you should complain about gas... I seem to remember a soccer trip conversation that went something like this:

    "What's that horrible smell?"

    "Did somebody fart?"

    "No, that smell couldn't possibly have come from a human... it must be something we're passing outside."


  2. Your title, "Venting", can have a double meaning: you getting something off of your chest, and Brian getting something out of....well, you get the picture.