Day 54 is the best challenge yet, if you have the intellect of a middle school boy. And I do. Today’s challenge was to count the number of times you umm… passed gas. Now, I’d suggest you stop reading if you are under the mistaken impression that I am either a) a lady or b) possessing even a moderate amount of class. I should preface this all by saying I had kept the joy I found in a well-timed fart under wraps until I had an audience. Becoming a mother strips you of your shame. And I didn’t have a lot going in.
So… count your farts. Simple mission for the day. I’d planned to execute this challenge Friday and then there were people in the office ALL day. It was almost 6 pm and I had had zero farts. Lame. Redo.
In preparation for Saturday’s mission I drank a bunch of beer on Friday evening. Really. That’s why. What? It worked.
Woke up Saturday morning and managed to pull one of my favorite jokes on Emily before we’d even made breakfast. “Hey, I have a secret?” Fart. #1. Morning progressed nicely with #2 and #3 immediately following the morning’s breakfast of eggs. Ran some errands for a bit so the late morning was relatively uneventful. Returned home where MQD insisted there was no way I was only up to #4. 4 through 7 were intentional and added for comedic value. Dinner was more eggs (Yum, arrabiata made by the man!) so I blasted right in to the low teens while Em and I had a competition of sorts. I told you. We are gross. Shameless. And frequently laughing at our own body functions. I managed to “holler back” to MQD on at least one occasion, a very gross and extraordinarily crass skill I have perfected since meeting this fine young man that shares my sick sense of humor.
All in all it was a grand day. I came in high, for sure, sitting pretty at around 17 when MQD fell asleep on the couch around 10 pm and I no longer had anyone to giggle with, making my efforts far less amusing.