Blog Posting and Friday Night Farting

Imagine you are out to dinner on a first date. It’s Friday night and the first of the month so everyone is out. You smile and wave to people you think you know, but you don’t. Then you go through the motions of finding out information about your date as time passes.

You eat chili con carne or something else that causes a rift to expand inside you. It wants to exit your body and disrupt the space time continuum. You feel it bubbling up in your gut, but you hold it inside, hoping no one will know. You shove it down deep and tighten your sphincter. You hold onto that gas bubble of toxic air until its nearly unhealthy. Then when your date goes to the bathroom, when you think it is safe, you let your butthole exhale.

You let out that steaming pile of whatever it was. You exorcise it right out of you so that you can find peace. You send it out with an exhale because you finally got it off your chest (<- or out of your body). Now, that it is out there… Is it as bad as you think? Will they call in the National Guard to air out the area? Will the restaurant believe its some teenager you blame it on leaving  a stink bomb? Will the waiter come and tell you that your perfume/cologne smells nice when in reality he/she is inhaling butt spores?

That is what writing a blog post is like. I have something I want to say and don’t for the fear it too might explode like an air bubble and ripple through the internet attracting trolls that I will have to take the time to ignore one by one. Will it cause people to turn their heads and cough or cover their face and act like they don’t know me?

Then when I just can’t hold it in anymore I act like Elsa (<- yeah I went there) and let it go (<-did there too). I hope on a whisper, prayer, and toxic air that no one takes what I said in a bad manner (unless I meant for you too).

But…

What happens when your date returns to the table to grab a purse/phone/wallet? What happens when those you don’t want to infect get close enough that they know the situation is in need of a gas mask, Febreeze, and a new outdoor venue? Do you put your finger on your nose and pretend its a game of whoever is last to touch their nose did it? Do you laugh about it and make a joke about cutting cheese? Do you blame it on the waiter or the society around you?

No, you don’t blame anyone else for your farts (opinions). It isn’t because of where you are, who you are, or what you are seeing. It is your ass rippling bubble of emotional information you have released onto the world and at this point you can only pray it doesn’t smell like the dead animal carcass that someone hit and left on the side of the road. You hope it doesn’t sting people’s eyes like burn day down at the local disposal.

You grab your balls (or your tits) and you admit you farted. You tell them to breathe through their mouth because you aren’t nearly done and you push a new fart out into the world. Each post is a new gas bubble of information you put into the world.

So, here I am grabbing my tits, to tell you that blog posting is the Friday night fart. I have let several out into the air by now and no one has come with a blow torch to see if my gas is flammable – so far so good. I own all my thoughts as my own. If I ever come off as an idiot.. well then I will apologize. I will tell you I am sorry that you just don’t get me.

Thanks for sticking with me and I promise not to try and be serious unless I have to be.

xoxo

Liz