I continue to experiment with random blog titles. I posted an entry (which sounds like a horrendous euphamism now that I think about it) last week about loving Trondheim. It was a random (which sounds like a sheep contraceptive) choice. I couldn’t say whether I love Trondheim or not. I’ve never been in the same country as Trondheim. But now I know 3 exciting things about the place:
- It was the capital of Norway until the 13th century.
- Kings were crowned there.
- The city has suffered 10 recorded great fires.
How do I know this? Because I got ‘pingback’ed and linked to by the official Trondheim website! If you don’t remember what the entry was about, it’s here. And Trondheim is now aware of me. And so I’m wondering now what sites/groups/wackos will find me after this header. Hee hee hee. So let’s see. Anyone care to come up with the joke that results in this punchline?
* * * * *
And a monday morning calls for 3 things.
1. Duvet days. Heard of them. Great idea. Never worked for a company who had them. Arse.
2. Coffee. In quantaties that could drown a hippopotamus.
3. Toilet humour. Because Monday mornings always need to be made funnier and lighter.
Can’t do anything about 1 and I’m dealing with 2 on and almost constant intravenous-style basis. So that leaves 3. Prepare yourself. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.
Last night wifey asked me whether I would prefer chicken wraps or chicken and rice for dinner. Being me (indecisive, but experimental) I suggested mixing the chicken, rice, garlic, onion, herbs etc. all together and then putting it in a wrap. We did so and it certainly works. It’s tasty and VERY filling. I looked a lot like the R101 five minutes after dinner. The Montgolfier brothers would have slung a basket under me and floated me off to Dijon. We ate as much as we possibly could and then we gave the excess rice to the dogs.
And while wifey and I both felt quite corpulent and rotund for the evening, it was the dogs that provide today’s entertainment. The excess rice had herbs in it. Just a bit of rosemary and basil I think. The dogs wolfed it down. (Do wolves dog their food I wonder?) Half an hour later, wifey and I are sprawled on the sofa with the laptop playing ‘hidden object’ games and watching the Simpsons. And suddenly the hairs in my nose curl and shrivel. And acrid smell like the diseased dysentry-ridden bowels of a thousand recent roadkill wafted across us. Immediately pulling my t-shirt up over the bottom half of my face and making sounds like ‘ack…ack’ I struggled off the sofa and shuffled around the room to find Seth. There he was, lying in the corner of the room, behind the sofa arm. And he had such a relieved and satisfied smile plastered across his face.
I ran to the utility room and got the air freshener. I also left the lounge door open for a while. We had a log fire going and I was a little dubious about the mix of naked flame and Seth’s output! After a liberal spraying, I closed the door. And then went to sit back down with wifey. We both pulled our Seth-proof veils back down, relaxed, picked up the mouse, reached to unpause the game, and heard, from the corner of the room ‘Pffffffffffft!’
Yup. Facial coverings back up. Gagging in the green miasma of Seth’s comfort. And this went on at roughly 5 minute intervals for the entire evening.
It led me to questioning ‘where do all the farts go?’ I discussed this with wifey. Quite simply, how many farts are released into the atmosphere at any given time. I mean cows are notorious for it. But even just the one dog must have farted thirty or so times last night. And we were in one room. And I figure, the smell actually has to go somewhere. Nothing disappears completely. Andf ok, the methane is destroying the ozone layer, but I don’t believe that the farts are floating through the hole and out into space?! Though it would make an interesting NASA study and I suspect it might be difficult even for astronauts to spot an intestinal gas cloud floating past them in the deep dark emptyness of the cosmos.
So the upshot of that is that every fart that has ever been discretely shushed out in an elevator or released with a bovine sigh in an English field are still here! Every fart ever issued is still here somewhere. And to give you some idea of what wifey is like and why I love her, when I questioned where they all went, this was what she said:
“They’re behind the sofa. That’s why I don’t move it when I hoover.”
Gotta love that wifey.
Well that about wraps it up for Monday morning. Hope everyone has a most excellent day. Have fun y’all.
Me.
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