Monday, November 15, 2010
November 1, 2010: Just farted myself awake—arguably into a higher plane of consciousness. This overture was easily six seconds long, full-bodied, and delivered in a lusty, rich baritone that you'd sooner have singing you to sleep than making you rise and shine. But rise and shine it did and, despite its passionate crescendo, it concluded with a clean finish and minimal aftertaste. I will never forget this day.
November 5, 2010: This morning, my farts took on a life all their own. They emerged with the ferocity of a badgered hornets' nest, causing my cat to dash away in terror. Their bouquet imparted a spicy, smoked hickory musk, while evoking the drowsy sensation of riding in the back of a pick-up truck from Lubbock to El Paso wearing a sombrero and chanclas, with a piece of straw in your mouth.
November 11-teenth, 2010: This next installment, the product of an
unfiltered wheat distillation process from 2010, was a great complement
to fish, game hen, and even roadside carrion. Despite its throaty
body reminiscent of the mead halls in Hrothgar’s pastoral countryside,
this bubbler emerged with a fine, buttery nose, a complex cedar and
blackberry finish, and a few select chunks of pork nestled into its
November 13, 2010: When my butthole woke me up today, it reminded me that it's good to be alive. I've had my ear to the ground for years in search of a product as dynamic and fleshy as this one. Weighty yet supple, this aggressive blast was sincere in its viscosity, but delivered only a trace of particulate matter. The mouthfeel was unparalleled, except that in this case it is sphincterfeel. A must with ramen noodles and mustard-covered Saltines. Garnish with a sprig of blueberry kush. Also, if your birthday happens to be on this day, then Happy Birthday.
November 16, 2010: This report is from my friend named Bill. He claimed that, on a park bench in Washington DC, he laid a nice one and expected it would be fluvial, smooth, harmless. But it must have packed a punch because the lady at the other end of the bench evidently sensed the vibrations. She swiftly got up and left. He added that earlier in the day he had eaten a peanut from an airline packet of peanuts. He ate one single peanut, he said, and it was the only peanut he had eaten in weeks. And when he farted on the park bench in Washington DC, the peanut came out.
If you call and I don’t answer, that’s because I’m in the bathroom shitting my lungs out.
Monday, November 1, 2010
One highlight occurred amidst a knee-deep strata of beer cans and plastic Jaeger Bomb husks on the lawn, when the Fruit of the Loom Grapes guy fell off the porch and popped most of his purple balloons. In consolation, he was awarded Best Costume. The guy dressed as a Discarded and Rotting Turkey Sandwich ate a whole bottle of prenatal vitamins just to see what would happen. And then the Dish ran away with the Spoon.
The height of buffoonery occurred when, for reasons that remain unexplained, we fired a 19th century elephant gun into the alleyway and blasted out the windows of our landlord’s garage. The chaotic orchestration of these misdeeds incidentally summoned two demons, but both were banished back to their fiery abyss by being defeated in games of sudden-death pencil break.
When the cops arrived, even Officer Pettigrew came in for some of Liz's fabulous spiked cider and chili (little did he know it was vegetarian chili, and little did Liz know that Chris replaced the ground soy tidbits with chunks of Germantown hobos who he'd chopped up on All Hallows Eve, delivering them of their destitution and misery).
A memorable bash was had by all. Thanks for joining us and we’ll see you next year.