A tripod of gastrointestinal distress!


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I’m not sure why, but the dreaded gas is back.  Without hesitation and like clockwork, it bubbles up and makes its appearance around dinnertime.  It’s impossible to hide.  It’s impossible to mask…or to hold in.  Yikes.

Perhaps it was the oatmeal or the latte or the Thai curry soup…most likely a deadly combination of all three.  A tripod of gastrointestinal distress!

Whatever the cause, it makes me giggle.  Obviously, I grow more concerned the more it ceases to dissipate…yet it makes me giggle like an immature 10-year-old boy making fart noises in his armpit.  It makes me laugh because it is so dang putrid.  Sometimes it resembles cheesy overcooked brussel sprouts while other times it has a distinct peanutty odor.  I realize that this is very open of me to share with you.  I apologize.

At times, I fart with every step I take.  It’s hilarious.

I run-fart up the stairs or do a long fart as I slide on stocking feet across the kitchen floor.  It makes me picture being in this trampoline park and farting at every bounce.  I giggle to myself as I imagine bouncing across the room, away from the green fog, leaving it bouncing in the air for everyone to behold.  I would try to drop a little bomb on each springy surface.  I don’t even think I could hold it in if I tried.  I would bounce up and out the door before they can even sniff me out…I disappear out the door, leaving an invisible gas path behind me.  It’s not a crime to fart.  It’s not.  Even the bloodhounds wouldn’t want to find me!  Poor dogs.

On the bright side, if I had a stalker…I wouldn’t have a stalker anymore.

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practicing patience


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Do not take advice from this pup.  She may appear to be waiting patiently for her food dish to be filled, but she is a master of trickery.  Trickery for Treat-ery.  She is far from patient.

She is staring.  Staring at me, and with every move I make, she flinches and gets ready to eat her feast.  Her back legs are at attention, ready to spring into action at the slightest gesture.

I reach for my coffee, she bounds into her room ready to scarf it down.  I continue working.  She trots back, annoyed, and sits down and stares at me again.  I reach for my phone, she jumps up.  I give her the look and grow annoyed.  She sits back in her position and stares at me.  She is growing impatient with me.  She’s wondering why I am so fucking stupid…why don’t I realize that she is fucking hungry!!  She breathes at me.  She’s huffing and puffing at me, like a little bratty kid.

It’s not time to eat yet.

‘But Moooooom, I’m starving!!’  I can read her thoughts.  She is trying to sway me with her cuteness.  I can’t even take it.  Look at that friggin face!  I have to fucking feed her!!!