Tuesday, July 24, 2012

A stinky situation.

Where is a clothes pin when ya need one?
Warning: I'm about to get a bit un-ladylike up in here so if you can't handle a bit of "bathroom talk", time to make a swift exit. 

Still reading? Well, welcome to my stinky space where I need to "air out" my feelings about the public faux pas (x 1,000,000) that I've encountered not once, but twice in the past 10 days... farting in elevators. When you live and work in NYC, elevators are a part of daily life and though we don't usually discuss it, so are farts (books like THIS don't lie). However throwing a fart in an elevator, when there are other riders on board, has got to be one of the worst public offenses around (right up there with spitting gum on the sidewalk). Everyone is in this tiny space all "whooooa that stinks" and trying not to cringe (or laugh, because no matter how old you get, farts are pretty funny) and wondering "did you really have to fart so bad that you couldn't wait 20 seconds?" I mean what's the longest elevator ride you've ever taken? Short of a gastrointestinal emergency (I am willing to concede, they happen) I'm thinking that your emissions can wait to be released until you are in a less confined air space.

HOLY WOW MID-POST REVELATION: As I'm proof-reading this post out loud Dr. H chimes in "sometimes I fart in elevators. I do it on purpose. I want to see people squirm."

I'm speechless. 

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