Remember 2005?

Back when y'all would give complete gastrological reports of your intake and the effect it would have on your system the next day? I do! I didn't post much then, but always enjoyed imagining what it would be like to be your co-worker, family member or band-mate. That always gave me a deeper appreciation for my own bandmates, co-workers and family members and their own struggles with odors.

Plus no one gave their bandmates as much shit* as you cats did to one another here. It was truly inspiring to read, and I know more than a few people would show up to y'all's gigs, just to see if there was going to be an on-stage scrap.

Ahhhh, memories............



*often with photo documentation. always a "nice" touch.

!

And see, I thought people were getting bored with that shit. So here's the last one I was considering posting, just for you.

So we played on Saturday, May 6 at the cell with The Gracchi, only we didn't. Because of catfights, they ended the show five songs into our set. Long story short, we finished the set a little later at a house party down the street from my house. Due to police interference, the Gracchi didn't get to play there either. Anyway, this is pertinent information because I was expecting to be home by eight or nine or so, and because I was drinking beer the whole time, I dunno what time it was when I actually *did* get back home.

Since I was not expecting a long night, I didn't have too much to eat on that saturday. Six cheese ravioli in marinara. That's it. Now that did prove to be enough food to keep me from getting diarrhea after four beers like I do on an empty stomach. It is also worth mentioning that I had been on a steady diet of meat, bread, and cheese for a couple weeks prior to this date, and I had come to realize that I was actually pretty fucking stopped up, you know.

So anyway, here's the count.

Six ravioli
Six of Heineken light
Several Miller Lites
Several Coors Extra Golds

I have no real idea as to the actual beer count, but it is somewhere between twelve and eighteen.

Add to the mix:

Enchilada dinner and a plate of chili cheese fries at Mannie's the next morning, washed down with five or six cokes. I was actually feeling pretty good that morning considering.

Upon our arrival back home, I grabbed the Sunday paper ad section and hit the stool. Not much was happening at first, but good things come to those who wait, or so I thought.

the first turd, I swear, was massive, hard as a rock, and, apparently coming out sideways. VERY uncomfortable. The doo took its time finding the light, and I was actually becoming worried... No, scared. Actually afraid. Eventually, it was over with a moist plop, a few of his little brothers followed him out without incident. The job done, I got up to see what had caused all the worry, and instead of just a few hard, oblong troublemakers as I had expected, it was a total fucking submarine graveyard in there. Log jam. Filled with sunflower seeds and the hominy I so enjoyed with some Dennison's chili and cornbread what seemed like weeks before. Confused, I thought it better just to flush the whole thing away without contemplating the ordeal further.

The rest of the day was peppered with hot, silent farts that stunk horribly, even when we were out of doors flying a kite with my 3 year old. In the house, they bounced nicely off the leather couch cushions and slowly wafted around the room for the olfactory perusal and utter delight of all present. I whiled away much of the remainder of the evening giggling and surfing my utter self satisfaction.

YES!!!



thank you, and fuck da police....

Foodstamps, that brought a tear to my eye.

quote:

Originally posted by black:
Remember 2005?

Back when y'all would give complete gastrological reports of your intake and the effect it would have on your system the next day? I do! I didn't post much then, but always enjoyed imagining what it would be like to be your co-worker, family member or band-mate. That always gave me a deeper appreciation for my own bandmates, co-workers and family members and their own struggles with odors.

Plus no one gave their bandmates as much shit* as you cats did to one another here. It was truly inspiring to read, and I know more than a few people would show up to y'all's gigs, just to see if there was going to be an on-stage scrap.

Ahhhh, memories............



*often with photo documentation. always a "nice" touch.

You know a GG Allen style publicity stunt might work in our favor.

quote:

Originally posted by Simfonik Mike:
Foodstamps, that brought a tear to my eye.

Yes, Steve's oderiforous eminations usually brings tears to many eyes

quote:

Originally posted by black:
... always enjoyed imagining what it would be like to be your co-worker, family member or band-mate... ...struggles with odors...

quote:

Originally posted by Cidderiforous:
Yes, Steve's oderiforous eminations usually brings tears to many eyes

A funny thing is that, since I am self employed, the whole co worker thing never really comes up. It is funny to see the odd customer with whom I am dealing get a sharp toot of a hangover/meat/stinky eurocheese fart. Not to brag, but I know my shit and keep things professional, and the diagnosis/job pitch keeps rolling as they look around for the source of the smell; the dog, grandpa, the kid... because it just couldn't be THIS guy...