Fartiing Is Such Sweet Sorrow
When growing up I think most kids imagine becoming something exciting like a movie star, professional athlete, or a race car driver or perhaps something more noble like a policeman/woman, nurse or a teacher. My aspirations were, well....different.
When I was thirteen or fourteen, my parents obtained an audio tape created by two comedians from Canada that was made to sound like an old-time radio broadcast of a world championship boxing match, except that it was a world championship farting contest between Lord Windesmere and Paul Boomer, his Australian challenger. At the time, I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever heard and wondered what it would be like to grow up to have such astonishing world class talent. Post-RNY, I believe that I could easily defeat either of them with their paltry threeps and triple flutter blasts. Seriously!!
While you might think that realizing one's youthful dreams would bring a sense of sweet joy, it has turned out to be a trail of sorrows.....and skidmarks. I walk outdoors 3 -5 miles per day for exercise and especially enjoy the solitude of it on rainy or cold days when few other fools are out and about. My enjoyment is tempered, though, by the need to frequently scan my surroundings to make sure that whatever I emit from my backside is not heard by others. You see, I may have been blessed with some natural talent, which was enhanced with WLS, but I also have an appalling sense of modesty. I try not to break wind in the presence of women or people whom I don't know. Thus, my lament: I have what I believe to be world-class talent, but I am too embarassed to unlea**** on an unsuspecting world.
RP
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Imperfect does not = unsuccessful
