Good Morning Effervescent Ones,
The diet I’m on has a variety of nuts, twigs, and tubers available to me, but not surprisingly I gravitate toward the foods I like. Unfortunately it creates a certain boredom that now has me attempting things such as yams or snap peas. Thanks to a suggestion by Mr. Jackwagon I have become quite creative with lettuce wraps but ready to expand beyond this limited menu. While snap peas are tolerable, I’m going to have trouble with yams. Artichokes, broccoli, asparagus, squash, and now yams all trigger a gag (too easy….don’t) reflex.
One of the unforeseen consequences of this endeavor to look good in my clothes is the copious amounts of gas it produces. I suspect it has allot to do with hard-boiled eggs. At 65 calories each I can woof down a couple of eggs, wash it down with a glass of water, and feel ‘full’ for several hours without gagging. I average about 4-6 hard boiled eggs per day and experience daily stomach churning and bubbling that is plainly audible to the human ear. Being in tune with my body, so far I’ve been able to ‘know’ when to either go outside or straight to the bathroom to let it rip as it were. Given my office houses the network printer, I take personal pride in the fact the air has been free of that methane stench normally associated with human waste. That changed dramatically yesterday.
I was working feverishly on the ‘Blitz 32’ implementation campaign now a day overdue, when the grumblings and stomach contractions once again started the dance of gas. I knew it was going to be a “big one” but was sure it wasn’t yet time to release the still building explosion. An hour later the stockpiling of loathsome gas had reached critical mass and there was little time to physically escape. I backed away from my desk and then using both arms to assist in lifting my ass off the chair, it was like someone uncorked a bottle of Champaign allowing the pressure to finally escape. In my futile attempt to stifle the fart in progress and with a PSI of well over 200, the sphincteral effort only resulted in altering the pitch or tone the gas made when exiting my bowels! I dared not run toward the ‘john’ for fear of crop dusting loudly down the hall so I remained in my office hoping the damage would be minimal.
I estimate the ‘clapper’ took 45 seconds maybe longer to finish. The feculent foul smelling methane was so intense it brought tears to my eyes! I don’t know if it’s possible to describe the potency of what had just happened, but the smell permeated the walls, books, chair, and even my cell phone! I actually left for an hour but could still smell remnants of the odious deed. There was a note fixed to a spray bottle of ‘Glade’ air freshener which read:
Please don’t ever do this again! Betty was sent home sick, as well as Paul. We have asked for a meeting with HR and expect you to be officially written up for your deliberate act of creating a ‘hostile’ work environment.
To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement! However, the extrication of the vile putrefied bag of gas housed in my stomach provided a level of relief, if not pleasure, never experienced before!