Take two – tales of the fart kind

Ok, so upon a second reading of my last post I decided it was boring. So, since I'm stuck inside on account of my allergies being recalcitrant turds, I thought I might try again with something slightly less self-centred.

So, without further ado, here is the tale of the time I farted at my sister Michi.

When we were young, our Dad used to fart a lot. Actually, he farted a lot regardless of our ages. He would do things like fart as he was walking – tilted up on one leg to facilitate easy release of said fart. Or tip onto one cheek whilst sitting. Or say 'ooh, can anyone smell hot chips?' and laugh when we took in a big voluntary whiff. Needless to say, I was not fond of this habit and I used to complain that it was unfair that we had to smell the air from his bowel (yes, I actually said that).

So, whenever I had to fart (rare, in those days, not so rare now) I would hide it from my Dad, lest he get on a high horse and proclaim that it was ok for him to do it, cos I did it too.

Pause there – skip to the other side of the story. When Michi was a kid, she often used to crack it with a family member, or several. Her way of letting us know that she was mad was to sit in the lounge room in the dark, fuming. What she didn't know was that none of us gave a shit. She'd just sit in there and stew, until she got bored or Mum called her to do something.

Back on track. One night I was descending the stairs when I realised I had a monster brewing. I reached the bottom step, walked down the hall, passed the lounge room and saw Dad in the kitchen. I realised I had to hide my impending fart. I still don't know why I did it this way, but I stopped and backed in to the lounge room. I bent over, propped myself up with my hands on my thighs, took a deep breath and ledderrip. No joke, I even went 'aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh' as I did it.

...You know sometimes when someone's staring at your back and you didn't know they were there but you can, like, feel their stare? Yeah well that happened to me at that moment. Still bent at the waist, I turned my head and there was Michi, directly behind me, sitting on the couch, arms folded, seething with anger, shaking slightly.

She dobbed, but Dad was too busy cracking up to care. Even after years had passed, he would giggle at the thought of Michi, sitting there, thinking that I was purposely farting at her to rub it in her face that nobody cared about her little spat.

Ok, so also a quick Zine update: We're done! Look out for it in the Zine shop (Format) – 15 Peel St Adelaide, it's called Hair Pie DIY, the first episode is free so check it out! We're really wanting feedback!

Last night we were talking about how we're taking a censored version to Egypt and were talking about what we would censor and Kat said 'just write about hummus and Pyramids and shit'. This is why I love her, always with the solutions.

Sweet!

Tx

Working late and miffed bout it? Write a blog.

Right, so I'd like to open with a bit of a paradox I came up with today. Wtf is with the clubsport, Holden? Here is a gutsy, quick, hot looking car with a name like clubsport? Club.Sport. That is by far the gayest thing I've ever heard. Now I'm not talking about the cool kinda gay, the Samantha Ronsons, the Ellen and Portias, Prince, etc, I'm talking about the shit kind, like security guards on power trips and teenagers who think they're cool when they're not. Lame kinda stuff. Say it out loud in a voice like the one employed by Jim Carrey in In Living Colour when he portrays a bodybuilding woman who had her uterus turned into a tobacco pouch (wanna pinch?)... yes, gay. If that doesn't work, say it like Carlotta from What a Drag. You get the picture. Holden, if you're reading this (there is a very high chance of that), change it please. Unless it's a joke on stupid car heads that drive them - in that case, well played, sir, well played.

Next. We lost Lacrosse again yesterday. I'm no mathemagician, but I am beginning to see a pattern forming. There was a girl that played for them who annoys the shit outta me. She is big and fat (not that I got anything against fat ppl, just sayin'), and has pinchy little lips like those of a chicken or more accurately a chicken caricature. She looks like Miss Birdy of the McDonalds fast food chain (not sure if you've heard of it). She would not shut the fuck up. I beat her one time, and she panted 'you're fast, I couldnt keep up with you.' I thought 'I'm 32. The only time I'm fast is when I have wheels on my feet. I'm also shit at this game. I beat you cos you're fat and lazy and won't shut your beak.' Naturally I didn't say that, cos I'm not actually an asshole in person, just here so all I did was smile. Come to think of it, she would've fit perfectly into the musical I saw the other day. My mate was in it. it was called Honk and is the story of the ugly duckling. It was very cleverly done, with the actors dressed up in clothes that suggested what kind of animal they were. I really enjoyed it. Next time I play against annoying chicken beak girl I will suggest she audition.

Another thing happened in my lacrosse game yesterday - I had my first one handed catch on my off side. I was so shocked to see it go in there, I yelled out OHHHHHH!!! Then I thought that the crowd should acknowledge my feat, so I turned my head to them, shouted it louder, whilst pointing to my stick (with the ball in it) with my other hand. They were awed and amused so I was pleased. I can't remember what I did after that, probably dropped the ball, that sounds like me.

The last thing of note that happened was near the end of the game. They were beating us by about 13, and we were lining up to (I don't know what you call it actually, face off?) start again. As I stood there, panting like the asthmatic that I am, focusing on the centre draw, I heard their coach yell 'I smell fear!'... Ok. Let's pause here for a second to bring up a few points:

1. - This is the lowest grade that any adult can play.

2. - I haven't played for even a year yet but I can't recall being fearful at any time thus far.

3. - What kind of retard yells that out, ever?

...'I smell fear!'... my instant reply was 'nope, not afraid, I did fart though, it's probably that you can smell.' Yep, we might've lost the war, but I won that battle.

So, that's about it for me on this Sunday evening. I must go and resurface now, I'm going to pretend I'm driving a Clubsport and hang it out! Not really.

Enjoy your monday (no capital letter cos I hate them)!

Tx