The Art of the Fart

I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but I sure as hell remember farting. That’s when I woke up, you know.

I am really conscious of making a ruckus out of flatulence, particularly after chomping through entire fields of onions and garlic. It has to be discrete, you know?
Farts bring out the most absurd in human behaviour. It is probably ranked way higher than even belching, yawning or stretching.
I can imagine.
The trick is to let it out in pauses; small, controlled bursts of espionage. When the first nose is crinkled, you shouldn’t figure on that nose’s list of suspects. It’s not an easy job, as any fat guy will tell ya.
We, in our daily lives, face a barrage of social situations wherein the social protocol dictating that the other person(s) not recognize your fart kicks in. Millions of people put their pants at risk daily and save the world. Some will rush into washrooms and unleash the perfume, while yet others have perfected the aforementioned espionage.
There still remains one threat to our mission as humans: the poop fart, known in the intellectual circles as ‘shart’.
Men of the mind, men of science have devoted their resources to countering this force of nature and make the world a better place. They are a shining example of Human Will, trying to open doors for all humanity.
Dude, that was me. I just farted. See? You did not even know. The next time you smell one, just close your eyes in acknowledgement of one of the many nameless artists the world has seen.

An Open Letter To Ellen DeGeneres

Won’t you, Ellen?

You've Been Hooked!

Dearest Ellen,

Hello. How are you? That’s great to hear, seriously. Listen, I know you’ve got a full plate in front of you right now (Okay, maybe not literally; you don’t look like you eat that much, to be honest. However, I stand by the statement.), especially considering how many challenges you have to deal with right now.

  • Voicing animated fish is no mean feat. (How do they record your voice underwater anyway?)
  • Arranging for Sofía Vergara to be “accidentally” deported so you can be the reigning CoverGirl has to be a lot of work.
  • Teaching millions of people to dance like no one is watching while hosting a kick-butt talk show must be exhausting. And sweaty, no doubt.

Normally I use this forum to write about my life as a bellman in Niagara Falls, but today I want to write to you from my heart.

I’ve been married to…

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Earth to 9-5 employee, Earth to 9-5 employee!

I haven’t been able to get through, but I guess I might keep trying, who knows.

He reaches early in the morning. In no time, his clinical efficiency sees to it that his laptop sits secure and demure on its stand and his lunch heads for warmer climes in the hot-case. And so begins another day of work typed onto a cobweb of networks; the keys of his laptop softly war with each other till some invisible problem desiccates an already weakening resolve to stay put. But alas, the lure of the morning’s first cup of coffee cannot be overcome that effortlessly.

So the compatriot must if he must. He milks the electronic cow for his drink. If he’s lucky enough, others would have arrived in time to join him- their schedules convalescing towards these oases of discussions and food and merry and gossip. But it’s too early in the morning. Perhaps a walk around the floor would do him some good.

Our good-hearted man tires to ameliorate his condition by acting on that thought, only others don’t quite expect you to just walk around. Just like that. What are you, a high schooler?

So he promptly barges into the other, smaller cafeteria acting like a natural. Another cuppa, no harm.

A quick seemingly nonchalant glance at the watch tells him it has been over an hour. Continue reading