Wednesday, September 8, 2010

A Unicorn Chased Me

It was late at night. I was walking through the woods with my video camera because weird stuff happens in the woods at night and I'd yet to adequately test my "Nightshot" setting on the camera. Allow me to paint you a picture with words: it was kind of foggy. And cold. Not cold enough where you could see your breath (it was too dark for that and I wasn't aiming the camera with its Nightshot setting anywhere near my breath. I mean, who wants to watch someone breathe in black and white?) but cold enough that you could wear a sweatshirt for a while and then wish you hadn't when you started running from a unicorn.

There. I don't know about you, but here's how I decide which blog posts to read: I use the Blogger Dashboard and I read the title of the post and the short excerpt from the beginning of the post and if it sounds interesting I click it. If it don't, I don't. So I thought to myself, Who wouldn't want to read about a unicorn chasing me? And now I have you within my nefarious grasp. Yes, you could leave, but then you'd miss out on learning the top five worst places to fart. (That probably should have been the blog title, huh? Oh well, blog and learn.)

So I thought about apologizing for my blogging absence but then I read someone's blog post title and it was something like ANNOUNCING MY COMING HIATUS and I thought, Who gives a shit? I don't care if you don't blog for a while. Seriously, I have other things I could be doing other than reading your posts about your kittens. So I am going to assume that you too have been doing other things. (Even though my mind insists on creating images of you refreshing my blog every thirty seconds while you sip one of those absurd energy drinks to fend off a panic attack. (Assuming energy drinks can do such a thing.)) So, screw the apologies. You're fine. I'm fine. Let's get on with it then.


5. The shower--even a benign little tut stinks when it ventures out into the aromatic mist created by the intoxicating blend of Ivory Soap and Garnier Fructis Fortifying Shampoo.

4. Elevator--but it's hilarious if you're drunk enough

3. Job Interview--which, I don't know about you, but when I'm nervous my digestive system churns out an impressive amount of gas. Or maybe it always makes that much gas and I'm so used to farting it out that I don't realize how often I do until I can't.

2. On a date--an early date, that is. Like the first or second. If you're not farting in front of her by the third date, move on. She's obviously not the one. Every guy knows that farting in the presence of a girl is the exact same as saying those three little words. It's just a lot funnier.

1. In bed (or the couch or backseat or wherever you prefer, you animal) during "the act." Not that this has EVER happened to me. I've just heard stories. Funny ones.


Unknown said...

I'm fine.

What about in class? Guess that would be on the BEST places to fart list.

Anita said...

I can't wait to see what The Wife says about this post.

Kelly Polark said...

Thank goodness it was a unicorn chasing you and not Justin Bieber's hair.
I would have to say job interview would have to be the most horrifying place. But I guess it would break the ice. No I guess it would just break the wind.
6th worst place to fart: In your classroom if you are the teacher.
When I was in third grade Ms. Tweeter tooted and became Ms. Tooter.

Unknown said...

Tweeter. Tooter. Poor woman.

Unknown said...

If I cut one in my classroom I don't think anyone would be able to tell.

Spontaneous Combustion said...

Insightful. this list, however is exponentially increased for girls.