April 29, 2004

12:14 p.m.

Windy Wanderings

I've got a new theory. It's that Silhouette lowfat Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookie Dough ice cream, when consumed several days in a row, sets up an acute chemical reaction noxious enough to create a social hazard.

Honestly, I don't know how I got away with it this week. I'm talking about farts, of course. And it's not like I ate cups of the stuff a day. But something was going on, and though I think I managed to avoid inflicting the atmosphere on anyone else, I do believe a few birds dropped out of the treetops as I passed (HAR, note pun).

You've had days like that, right?

I've sworn the ice cream off for the time being. Who knows, I also ate hummus every day, so maybe it was that. And I wasn't really taking the probiotics I usually take. Anyway, sometimes it's just good to live alone, I'm reminded. Much less embarrassing in certain contexts. Hey, I wonder what the Fab 5 would have to say about le farteur romantique?

Dar insists, incidentally, that there was an actual farteur, a music hall performer in France, who could play tunes out of his butt. He was very popular, apparently, in an earlier century.

I idly wonder whether Will and I will ever be well enough acquainted to fart in each other's presence. I suppose it's too soon to ask his opinion on that.

And having so said, I think I'll call him this afternoon. Also must send out some PR emails and take another bike ride. It's been nice chatting with you today. I feel we're so much closer now.