Friday, May 04, 2012

Shower Fart Obituary

No, before you ask, this is not one of my Made Up Band Names post, because as band names go, this one would be kind of weak, I have to say. (Like what genre of music would a band have to be in to pull this one off? Joke Gothic? Clown Metal Punk? I have no idea.) No, this is literally a thing people would’ve needed for me today. I would’ve needed an actual obituary that explained that my cause of death was a shower fart cause that almost totally happened. I can see this alternate reality in which this obituary would’ve been written.

“The Bloody Munchkin died on Friday, May 4th, of head trauma related injuries after she let out a fart in the shower that was so potent that it caused her to faint, fall in the shower, hit her head hard enough that she lost consciousness. She was found several hours later by her husband. The cause of death was immediately identified by the potent whiff of fart left lingering in the air. She is survived by….”

The Eulogy would be outstanding:

“I want to talk about The Bloody Munchkin, beloved wife, mother, shower farter….”

And the Epitaph. Oh the Epitaph! Can you imagine?

THE BLOODY MUNCHKIN May she RIP ones for all Eternity

This was almost a thing that actually happened today. I mean it was real touch and go there for a second. Let me explain how though. So I have this not fun at all cold that has left my sinuses in a ruined shambled. My sinuses have become the olfactory equivalent of Thunderdome. Two go in, but only yellow snot comes out. So the smells that come in my system are trapped there for the time being.

So I’m in the shower and I fart. This itself was touch and go. The gas hit me with such force and so abruptly that I wasn’t quite sure what might be coming out of me at that very moment. Caught off guard and with my sinuses left defenseless, I was unprepared for what did come out of me. Eu De “dead skunk stuffed inside a rotting zebra carcass” might be putting it mildly. Actually, a better description might be what my dog’s breath smells like after eating what ever’s been lying on the ground in the hot sun for three days followed by a grass burp chaser, but since you’ve never had the displeasure of knowing what that smells like (wish I could say the same, but I’m not that lucky) you’re just gonna have to trust me when I say it was pretty bad. So bad that my head spun for a bit and I had quite the hard time getting my bearings, so I swayed a little bit. It was that powerful. I had to lean on the shower wall and hack up a lung for a while. It was not pretty.

And somehow this alternate reality popped into my brain, and I thought how embarrassing it would be if I actually went out like that. I mean, it would be my luck to go out like that. I think I’m genetically wired to go out or at least get injured in the clumsiest way possible. My mom broke her wrist on her way to our porch because she was reading the paper and missed a step. She also recently bruised some ribs because she stumbled over a crack in some pavement because she was changing the song on her iPod. The less said about some of my more clumsy moments almost leading to my death the better. There’s something about my family tree that leads me to believe I won’t go out in a blaze of glory or even a romantic, consumptive way, but I’ll be doing something totally random like tying my shoe or trying to cut up some vegetables and then I stop paying attention for 3.2 seconds and boom! Curtains!

So I guess this my friendly reminder to live everyday to the fullest because you could be taken out by your own shower farts. You’re welcome. 

And in light of news that Adam Yauch, AKA Beastie Boys' MCA just passed away, I'd like to reiterate that life it incredibly too short. I feel like a piece of my childhood just died. In fact I haven't felt this bad about a celebrity since Pat Morita died. Cultural touchstone people! I almost thought about not posting this, but given MCA told me I had to fight for my right to party, I really don't think he'd mind much.

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