Farts are Funny. I Don’t Care WHAT You Say.
Wife has accused me of letting them "just fall out" wherever and whenever. My mother-in-law, CrazyCatLady, has quoted the Old Irish, "Where �ere you be, let yuir wind go free.
I love Ye Olde Irish shite, and I also love being unrestricted with my bodily functions. It's a freedom unlike any other, and I relish teaching it to my children.
It's not just around the house, as any man should feel free to puff his PJs in his own castle, it's anywhere really (with the possible exception of the shower as somehow they get freakishly intensified in hot water).
I have many too. So many, of so many different varieties, that I must sample each and every one just for reference. It's only a cupcake if you do it to someone else, if you grab a little handful and bring it cautiously up to your face, you can get a reasonable sample without causing any olfactory damage.
Then, if it's quality, you can grab more handfuls and offer them up to your wife's nose for her appreciation. She's a real fan of this technique but only if I present them with descriptions such as "Oooo, fruity," "Hey Fun!" "This one is Spicy!"
If they're foul, I mean really foul, you can grab them by the same handfuls and them throw away from you over your shoulder, out the car window, or even shove them under the couch to protect the innocent.
I've got the grab-and-throw down to a science, but one of the main problems with being so familiar with my own stench is that I fail to notice when one of these not-far-from-being-sentient-beings escapes from my ass with it's sights set on nothing short of Global Domination.
I keep waiting for it to *gasp* offend or embarrass Wife, but the woman is simply unflappable. Seriously, my farts can't flap her.
Case in point, we're in the middle of the Hair Product aisle and I'd only just gotten finished giggling at the our daughter's loud announcement of her gaseous emission...
Seriously, I hear a smallish b-r-r-r-p, and my little girl proudly gleams at me and says, "I fahted... DADDY, I fahted." Sensing that Wife was once again completely lacking in embarrassment, I smiled and calmly asked Pie-Pie, "Great, did you sample it?" and began making hand motions to my face.
She grins and shakes her head while Wife smiles broadly and shakes hers as well.
... so Wife is looking at hair colouring again, I'm a bit bored and befuddled and I'm standing behind her making faces that a guy makes in that situation and one of them falls out.
One of the evil ones.
I stand there for a second, thinking about the possible wrongness that just left my butt, and decide to get rid of all the evidence right there with a few simple pats. Patting proved effective for the fleeing escapee, but unfortunately it also meant that this foul creature could all the more easily infiltrate my nostrils.
When you've perpetrated this kind of infraction on humanity, it's hard not to recoil in raw terror and bellow at all potential victims nearby to "Run! For the love of all that's holy, RUN!"
I held it together though, simply made a face for a second, and held my breath for a bit, hoping it would clear. It didn't.
It got worse.
I'm not sure how, but it gathered enforcements and attacked in full force, punishing all things sensory belonging to it's creator in a clear display of impudent stinkyness.
I walked over to where Wife was now staring at the many varieties of toothpaste, her desire to redefine her lock colouring evidently postponed for the need to redefine our enamelly colouring. I grabbed a box off the shelf at absolute random, threw it hastily at the cart, and whispered through clenched teeth, "We gotta go, Now."
She made a slightly inquisitive noise, huffed through her nose, and followed quickly after me with an "ohhhhh, honey." I thought I might've finally gotten to her, but when she got to the cart and began examining the "Extra Strength Citrus Cinnamon and Licorice Especially for Dentures" toothpaste that I'd thrown in, she was giggling madly. Still making a face and giving me a look of mild disdain, but giggling.
We'd made it a few aisles over when she told me that there was a woman who saw the whole thing and was howling with laughter. I feigned innocence and claimed that there couldn't have been anyone that saw anything because there wasn't really anything to see (although it was tangible enough that I wouldn't have been surprised).
To prove her point, Wife chucklingly pointed out a young couple with their heads quietly together at the end of the offending aisle and began to really guffaw. I did my best not to grin sheepishly as I noticed the man's crinkled nose and his wife gesturing in my direction.
He'd apparently just cruised the site of the famous "Olfactory Murders" and was obviously Victim Number 3. My heart, as well as my nose, went out to him.
His wife, just like mine, was hooting with laughter.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.Been a while.
So, it's been a while. Lots has happened. Overall though, things have been fairly quiet.
My laptop died, for starters (or at least the charger did) so I haven't been writing because of that, and not because I've been too lazy or worthless AT ALL.
So we decided to quit smoking because we were thinking about trying to get preggers. Then, we decided to stop the Ol' Pill to see how long it would take to actual create a little human baby. This wasn't that long ago and we figured that it wouldn't be straightaway as the averages are quite a while.
I mean, we hadn't even been married a year, hadn't really planned for when we'd have us a little one, plus we had Willis and lovely Torey's wedding coming up in September. We figured that since it takes most folks so long to get knocked up we'd have a little buffer zone for time.
We figured a little wrong.
Yep, slap shot right into the net on our first try.
GOOOOOAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!!!
He promises to be a big one, don't ask me how I know this nor how I know it's a "he."
I feel it in my waters (I've only recently heard that one and I like it).
I sat on one of the kids' little stools in the bathroom and watched the steam rise slowly from the water surrounding Jo's lithe form. The candlelight from either side of her feet cast a warm glow across her body that was soon eclipsed by the smile that spread across her face as she said, "I think he's moving honey, just a tiny little bit."
Though this early in the game that kind of movement is most likely something that only the mother can feel, she guided my fingers to the lemon-sized bulge in her middle and I swear I felt something. I can't say if it was a kick or a headbutt or a massive far... um, abdominal wind, but I felt something and it was AWESOME.
Heh, we're making a baby.
Work had a bit of a hiccup lately when I found no other way to tell my boss that I was done taking his shit than to walk straight out the door.
It wasn't fun, and in fact was incredibly stressful and it wasn't long before I rocked back and forth in Jo's comforting arms freaking out about how to pay the bills and feed our kids. She soothed me, we hung out with wonderful sis-in-law and her fam for a few days to chill out, and I did my best to destressify while doing some minor negotiations with my former employer.
We negotiated, I threatened, he threatened, I softened, he caved. So I'm back at work under some improved conditions under a sort of, probationary period. Things have improved, so that's a good thing, especially since it turns out we like stuff.
You know? Stuff? Like paying bills and buying brands other than Black & Gold. We even got some baby stuff too, like a stroller ("pram" as I've learned to refer to it) and a portacot (which looks like a little jail and I'll probably end up calling a "brig" before too long). Then we got Jo some stuff that isn't "maternity" yet will hopefully stretch and grow with her ever expanding tummy.
I even got some Bonds shirts that are just like Hanes or thermals along the lines of underwear-that-aren't-under-and-are-now-apparently-trendy-though-I've-been-wearing-them-since-childhood. Much like my Chuck Taylor Converse, Camouflage cargo pants, or ripped up blue jeans, stuff can get spendy when everyone suddenly wants to wear it. Bonds is still cheap, and I dig it.
See? We like stuff.
Oh, and we purchased basically every cool thing that we saw that was "our kids" related. West Coast Eagles footy apparel and little Chuck's with skulls on ‘em, plus plastic gadgets and sparkly stuff, we went out and consumed like the good consumers we are. I bid a fond goodbye to the bonus that I got for a couple of extremely lucrative projects I brought to the company and we are now basking in the glow of Retail Therapy.
I'm still kind of in the midst of figuring out what to do with the rest of my working life. I really only know that I want it to be as short as possible (the "working" part, not the "life" part) and to be fun while I do it. Not terribly original, I admit, but nonetheless absolutely true.
This job isn't terribly fun at the moment, though I'm doing my best to change that, so we're spending a considerable amount of our laying-in-bed-in-the-morning time daydreaming about where a new path may lead. We'll come up with something soon, I'm almost positive, but have nothing but fairytales and rainbow-flavoured puppy dogs right now.
Speaking of dogs. We got us a little fat pillbug. I didn't want a damn dog just yet. I was told we were going to adopt an old greyhound whenever we finally scored our own house and not to expect anything until then. Oh no, the brother-in-law's girlfriend's dog has a litter.
And they're cute.
And there's a runt.
And she's adorable.
And no one wants her.
"No puppies. Puppies shit and chew and dig and are 3rd on the list of Biggest Pains in the Ass in the Universe. No."
"Just meet her. Just spend a little time with her and go with your gut instinct."
You can guess the rest.
So once again, life is good, though it always is. I suppose I just like to report that as much as I can.
So once again, life is good, though it always is. I suppose I just like to report that as much as I can.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.Been a while. Yeah.
So, it's been a while. Lots has happened. Overall though, things have been fairly quiet.
My laptop died, for starters (or at least the charger did) so I haven't been writing because of that, and not because I've been too lazy or worthless AT ALL.
So we decided to quit smoking because we were thinking about trying to get preggers. Then, we decided to stop the Ol' Pill to see how long it would take to actual create a little human baby. This wasn't that long ago and we figured that it wouldn't be straightaway as the averages are quite a while.
I mean, we hadn't even been married a year, hadn't really planned for when we'd have us a little one, plus we had Wilbur and his lovely's wedding coming up in September. We figured that since it takes most folks so long to get knocked up we'd have a little buffer zone for time.
We figured a little wrong.
Yep, slap shot right into the net on our first try.
GOOOOOAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!!!
He promises to be a big one, don't ask me how I know this nor how I know it's a "he."
I feel it in my waters (I've only recently heard that one and I like it).
I sat on one of the kids' little stools in the bathroom and watched the steam rise slowly from the water surrounding Wife's lithe form. The candlelight from either side of her feet cast a warm glow across her body that was soon eclipsed by the smile that spread across her face as she said, "I think he's moving honey, just a tiny little bit."
Though this early in the game that kind of movement is most likely something that only the mother can feel, she guided my fingers to the lemon-sized bulge in her middle and I swear I felt something. I can't say if it was a kick or a headbutt or a massive far... um, abdominal wind, but I felt something and it was AWESOME.
Heh, we're making a baby.
Work had a bit of a hiccup lately when I found no other way to tell my boss that I was done taking his shit than to walk straight out the door.
It wasn't fun, and in fact was incredibly stressful and it wasn't long before I rocked back and forth in Wife's comforting arms freaking out about how to pay the bills and feed our kids. She soothed me, we hung out with wonderful sis-in-law and her fam for a few days to chill out, and I did my best to destressify while doing some minor negotiations with my former employer.
We negotiated, I threatened, he threatened, I softened, he caved. So I'm back at work under some improved conditions under a sort of, probationary period. Things have improved, so that's a good thing, especially since it turns out we like stuff.
You know? Stuff? Like paying bills and buying brands other than Black & Gold. We even got some baby stuff too, like a stroller ("pram" as I've learned to refer to it) and a portacot (which looks like a little jail and I'll probably end up calling a "brig" before too long). Then we got Jo some stuff that isn't "maternity" yet will hopefully stretch and grow with her ever expanding tummy.
I even got some Bonds shirts that are just like Hanes or thermals along the lines of underwear-that-aren't-under-and-are-now-apparently-trendy-though-I've-been-wearing-them-since-childhood. Much like my Chuck Taylor Converse, Camouflage cargo pants, or ripped up blue jeans, stuff can get spendy when everyone suddenly wants to wear it. Bonds is still cheap, and I dig it.
See? We like stuff.
Oh, and we purchased basically every cool thing that we saw that was "our kids" related. West Coast Eagles footy apparel and little Chuck's with skulls on �em, plus plastic gadgets and sparkly stuff, we went out and consumed like the good consumers we are. I bid a fond goodbye to the bonus that I got for a couple of extremely lucrative projects I brought to the company and we are now basking in the glow of Retail Therapy.
I'm still kind of in the midst of figuring out what to do with the rest of my working life. I really only know that I want it to be as short as possible (the "working" part, not the "life" part) and to be fun while I do it. Not terribly original, I admit, but nonetheless absolutely true.
This job isn't terribly fun at the moment, though I'm doing my best to change that, so we're spending a considerable amount of our laying-in-bed-in-the-morning time daydreaming about where a new path may lead. We'll come up with something soon, I'm almost positive, but have nothing but fairytales and rainbow-flavoured puppy dogs right now.
Speaking of dogs. We got us a little fat pillbug. I didn't want a damn dog just yet. I was told we were going to adopt an old greyhound whenever we finally scored our own house and not to expect anything until then. Oh no, the brother-in-law's girlfriend's dog has a litter.
And they're cute.
And there's a runt.
And she's adorable.
And no one wants her.
"No puppies. Puppies shit and chew and dig and are 3rd on the list of Biggest Pains in the Ass in the Universe. No."
"Just meet her. Just spend a little time with her and go with your gut instinct."
You can guess the rest.
So once again, life is good, though it always is. I suppose I just like to report that as much as I can.
Smooches.
How come nobody told me that all my images were all fucked up?
Yeah, I understand that I'm the web guy and all and I should know this shit, but I can't be trusted to unwedge my head from my ass ALL the damn time.
FFS people. Sheesh.
Ed: Sorry for the above tirade, I actually should have noticed that my shit was broken and known how to fix it straightaway.
Know why?
Because I ignored the 36 fucking emails that dear sweet Andyroo sent me reminding me that my membership was expiring. I just didn't take him seriously enough when he warned me that I had 9.6 days remaining to have images and stats and comments and shit.
Bahfooshitfingers.
I'll have the domain name ship righted tomorrow beeches...
JUDDHOLE.COM will soon be something more than just capitalized in this sentence, you mark my words!