I have to admit that I have the sense of humor of a twelve year old. I think gas (or as my mother made us call it fluffers) is funny, wicked funny. I used to say to my ex boyfriend pull my finger... and if he had pulled my finger I was going to gift him with some special air. He never pulled my finger... sad face. This might be reason number 256 of why I am single.
I am saying this because my life is in the bell jar of crazy and I need laughter to get me through it. The thing that makes me laugh the most is good old "fluffer" stories. Like when you walk down a hall or an aisle in the supermarket letting out the silent killer gas and then turn around inconspicuously to see how everyone is reacting to the stink bomb you just dropped. I can say this because I have dropped the bomb and had someone else's bomb dropped on me. It is mean and wrong but oh so funny.
This is the point in the blog where I am sure I will have lost some of you... but if you are laughing read on to my next story.
I was a cook at a boy scout camp... this was back in the day when I was 18. (like three years ago if I am lying about my age) There was a night when we had to cook the boy scouts meatloaf. Whoever created the menu wasn't the brightest cook in the kitchen. Needless to say the meatloaf did not go over well and we had a lot of it left. (Note to self; if the cook staff is eating cereal while serving you meatloaf... go home hungry) I worked with other people who had the same base humor as myself and we decided that it would be super funny to get rid of the meatloaf in a unique way. We took our tray of meatloaf and headed for the outhouse. We thought it would be funny if Bryce dumped the meatloaf into the outhouse, while making funny noises. So when people walked by they heard it. This would be the ultimate gas story. What we didn't expect is that the head of the camp would come up and use the stall next to Bryce. This posed an interesting dilemma to continue or not continue in our meatloaf dumping ways. We chose to continue. I am not sure what the mayor of our camp thought was going on next to him in the outhouse or why the whole kitchen staff was standing by laughing. But from that night on meatloaf had been taken of the menu indefinitely.
