Retro Post.

I found this post from my other blog. It was from Michael & I were dating.

Sunday, October 14, 2007


Farts...Hey..everyone does it.

Current mood:Down for the Count

Last Night, I visited Michael. In Augusta. I put my hair in low Marcia Brady Piggy tails per glamour magazine. (They suggested that men find loose low pigtails/ponytails very alluring..and yes..I do feel like an idiota for even admitting to reading glamour..but there..I said it.)



You'd have thought I have a bladder of a 2 year old on potty training. I stopped in Smyrna. Covington. Eatonton/Madison. Sparta. AND exit 190. Which is AFTER the Laurel & Hardy Museum exit.

I arrived in a very non prompt fashion. Pony/piggies in place. Lip Gloss in check.



When I pulled into our ritual meeting place, he pulled in shortly after. Smiling he jumped out of his quickly parked truck, and ran around to me. He enthusiastically put his arms around me and kissed me all in one sweeping fashion. (Hoorah Marcia Brady Hair!!)

Apparently he was as happy to see me, as I was to see him.



We found a hotel room. The girl behind the counter (who was quite avant-garde with the body glitter) said "well, I just gave away the last non smokes room to the man who was just standing here."

I said "Ah..yes.."

She said "I got a smoker room."

We both looked at each other with grimaces (Not the purple mcdonalds kind) but before we could make any comments, she piped in with 'Our maids is real good. Which means they clean out all the smoke smell."

Mike said "Mind if we go check it out first?"

I tried to make her laugh with some "Is it just me, or does this room smell like Camels?" joke.

I had to tap my invisible microphone and say "Is this thing on?"



We went up to room 209. Opened the door, and were whafted with what smelled like the Marlboro man had just been in this nice room.

We turned around, and went back to the 'office'.

She referred us to their sister. (Hotels have relatives).

Turns out, this place was nice---er. And smoke free. It came complete with everything. Alas, we JUST missed the round bed suites. And all the jacuzzis were spoken for.



We put down our junk and turned on the a/c.

As it was getting quite late, we decided definitely dinner should be at Firehousesubs.

While we're sitting at our little table, eating and talking, and munchin' on these delightful sammiches, the tiniest little girl walks up to our table. Specifically looking and directing her conversation at Mike.

He has a way with kids. They like him. They flock to him.



I topped off the dinner with my kosher dill. I have barely any resistance to those. I decide to save my chips for 'tomorrow' thus reserving room for Cold Stone.



We stand up to leave, and it hits me. The biggest ball of gas. Right in the stomach. NOT the kind you can burp out.



I thought..Oh man..I sooo don't want to fart in his truck. Or the air outside of his truck. Or around him in general. I don't want this man to think that I fart.





In the car we play "name that band". He played a tidbit of a song, and I had to guess the musicians. All the while I'm willing away the gas. Telling my stomach that she does NOT have free fart reign. I could see in my mind, that woman "Take Beano now, and there will BEANO gass later." I wanted to bitch slap her. Had she been en route to Cold Stone, I'd have instructed the driver to pull over.



Despite my airy situation, I did rather well on the guessing game. He even played my favorite Candlebox song. (Far Behind). Loud. Which was fine by me.



In Cold Stone, we were trying to decide what to choose. He said he was "definitely going for real ice cream, this time."

I said "I think I will too."

I had my eye on the cotton candy one. It's how I'll never grow up. I'll always have a part of me that is 5. I wanted it for the blue color.



Mike chose the birthday cake ice cream bonanza. I'm not sure exactly it's name. I saw that it had a whole brownie in it. That they crush up. BROWNIE may as well have been a boston baked bean. I knew if I ordered that, I'd fart him into oblivion.

The girl behind the counter kept trying to get her fellow employees into sing alongs.

I ordered my "Like it" cotton candy sans add-ins. Add-ins would just encourage the air-outs.



While we're waiting an adorable baby girl (Maybe a year and a half) stands up in her chair. Looks at Mike and dances saying "Mmmm MMMM" in reference to her ice cream.

Kids love him. He was enamoured with her. I told him her dress was 'no bigger than a minute."

He looked at me and said "I've never heard that before."



The moment he was handed his "love it" birthday cake. I knew I wanted it. It looked like a party. It smelled like a party.

He let me eat it. First it was "Just a bite."

I offered him some of my blue. He declined.

Mike smiled as I took another bite.

He asked "Like it, huh?"

I said "Yep! It's like a real party. With Cone shaped hats and everything!"

He was extra generous and let me eat the majority of it.



After the ice cream we went to his barracks to collect his Dvd's. He showed me where he talks to me on the phone. And then up to the top floor to his room. Before entering the barracks he said "Hold your breath, it smells like a huge Fart in there."

I have to admit thinking "Ah..my clever disguise!"



It made me smile thinking of him walking all that way for cell service, just to talk to me, and hear me ramble on in nonsense.



I must say, Mike & his roomie keep their area so nice and tidy. He gave me the grand tour, showed me where the too-packed carnival was happening. Where he sits when he's on duty..the whole nine.



Then we headed back to our big room, to climb into our big bed, and watch Me, Myself & Irene (my choice).

Except, lounging on him while we watch movies (ritualistic of us) was just encouraging the gas. And it was making it highly difficult to hold it in. When you add in the humor factor, I was literally just hoping I could hold it.



Later on, I was dozing off. Almost to that glorious deep sleep. And I hear it.



LOUD.





PFFFFFT!!!



I pop open my eyes. Thinking 'OH geez. Oh good lord. OH MY Sweet Sweet Lord!" Almost certain it was moi.

Then I hear him say my name, quietly, as if he was testing the water to see if I'd heard it. And I realized it wasn't me. I pretended to still be asleep. Trying so very hard not to burst into my 11 year old glee and giggle.



So, apparently, Firehouse gave him the same issue.



This morning we had a WaHo breakfast and non stop conversation. Promising to see each other as much as humanly possible before he leaves Georgia. It was just soo hard to say goodbye.

But 3 hours later, we were yakkin' it up on the phone again...