You know what's weird?
Sometimes my butt hole knows me better than I do. It's like my butt hole has taken a sworn oath to devote its life to protecting my best interests and preserving my dignity at all costs, come hell or high water.
People can leave whenever they want, but nobody gets in without the proper documentation. My butt hole is like a border patrol agent.
For example, it has been known to happen, on occasion, that I need to fart and so when the opportunity presents itself for me to drop a Stealth Bomb, I prepare for launch.
Except sometimes my butt hole is like, "WHOA THERE. Let's not be so hasty. There's a person of interest headed for the border as we speak, and we need to set up this road block to make sure that he doesn't escape into your underwear. And just to be safe, why don't you go ahead and position yourself for Evacuation. Signal when you're ready."
And I'm like, "Holy shit, butt hole. I didn't even know he was on the run! Thank you for saving the day!"
And then my butt hole is like, "Just doing our job, Ma'am," and voila! My dignity has been spared!
And then I come here and my typing fingers fuck it all up, but still. I appreciate the effort. Butt holes can't be everywhere at once.
Does it wear a jaunty uniform hat or flash its badge?
ReplyDeleteHa, your butthole has quite the built in security. I started audibly farting in front of Jamie for the first time on our honeymoon (he asked and I was drunk) and now I'm afraid I'll just let one rip outside of the comfort of our own home without realizing what I'm doing.
ReplyDeleteThis is the funniest post I've read so far this year.
ReplyDeleteIt's nice to have a sympathetic butt hole.
ReplyDeletehahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
ReplyDelete