The Fart Room
First of all, Lee knows I'm writing this so all of you who criticize me for writing about Lee can kiss my lily white ass.
Yesterday, Lee and I had a lengthy discussion about apartments vs. houses. Basically, he doesn't like living in an apartment and wants to have a house so that he can "spread out". Fast forward to last night. We get home around midnight after a very late dinner. I walk into the second bedroom to check something on the computer. Lee wanders off to some other room of the apartment. All of a sudden I hear a VERY LOUD fart. So, I go "good one hon". And Lee goes "Crap! I thought you were in the bathroom! You see, that's why we need a house. I need a fart room."
Yesterday, Lee and I had a lengthy discussion about apartments vs. houses. Basically, he doesn't like living in an apartment and wants to have a house so that he can "spread out". Fast forward to last night. We get home around midnight after a very late dinner. I walk into the second bedroom to check something on the computer. Lee wanders off to some other room of the apartment. All of a sudden I hear a VERY LOUD fart. So, I go "good one hon". And Lee goes "Crap! I thought you were in the bathroom! You see, that's why we need a house. I need a fart room."
4 comments:
In my dreams, the fart room would be soundproofed and well-ventilated. It would be full of flowers and potpourri, and equipped with lots of candles, matches and airspray. Also, all of the furniture would be brown, in case of hershey squirts.
Are you a woman in your dreams? Flowers, potpourri and candles?
In my dreams, I look like a supermodel and am as rich as Bill Gates.
That's funny. In my dreams you look like a supermodel and I'm as rich as Bill Gates.
You look a little like Bill Gates. And Eric Stoltz.
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