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.