Diva Night Time Fartcaspades: So I wake up at 1:56AM and Im thirsty. I go into my folks kitchen and although Im pretty much limited to water these days, I spy one of those mini cokes in a glass bottle, which I LOVE but shouldnt have. I start in search of the bottle opener, to which I can NEVER find, and of course I did not find this time either. So I put the ice cold coke back with a heavy sigh, that is until I spot a can of ginger ale using only the night light to see with. I love ginger ale. Yes, I do kind of see that it says pale ale on the can and not Seagrams ale but in my Ambien haze I figure this must be a new ginger ale my Dad is trying. Got back to my room, opened that nice cold, definitely looks like the trademark Seagrams ginger ale can, took a big drink and yuck, yuck, yuck, it was awful!!!!!! Beer??? Really? At 2am? My parents are going to kill me. Why? Not because Im 52, and well old enough to drink, but more so because my Dad only drinks like once or twice a year and for all I know he was either saving this can for a special occasion or even worse, he was probably saving it to make his famous chuck wagon chili. Either way Ive got some explaining to do in the morning. This wee morning kitchen adventure of course reminded of the other night when I was with my friends in Chicago. After an evening of trips down memory lane, while walking/taxing around the city to some of our favorite places, including Christkindl where we had a nice hot mug of Gluwhein (hot mulled German wine), we find ourselves leaving one of our friends buildings after having just seen her brand new gorgeous condo. Just as we hopped into the elevator I said to my two friends as the doors closed for to ride 11 floors down, something Ive never EVER said to them in my life, AND Im pretty sure NOT TO ANYONE outside my immediate family........I hate to tell yall this but I just farted. Im not really sure if they were passing out from laughter or the fart, but as I was personally dying of laughter I think I said, Well just be glad we werent in my old place for the 35 floor ride to the bottom, to which Dave, who Im not sure if he was being the straight man in my own Laurel and Hardy episode or if he was being a true gentleman, said, Dont apologize to us, its those people who just got on the elevator for the ride up that will need the apology the most. This fact only made us laugh even harder. Then poor Dave had to share a taxi with me and while he insisted on dropping me first, I, the ONLY one who EVER has cash, insisted that we drop him at Union Station even though it was out of my way. It was the least I could do right? During that extremely awkward taxi ride to the train station we diverted the conversation to geography and questions like, So where was my old building again, to which I found myself seriously standing my ground that you simply had to cross Wabash before you crossed State street and then it was like two more streets down before mine. Me? The country girl arguing with a local on the layout of The Loop in Chicago. I really will take on any subject just to have to avoid the fart topic again; well that, and if I focused on arguing, I was not likely to toot again. I cant argure and toot at the same time. Its simply NOT possible, for me anyway. I dont know why so dont ask. I was so intent on changing the subject in the taxi with Dave that I totally forgot to ask the cab driver his name, where hes from, how long has he been in this country, does he like it here, how many kids does he have, etc.? I ALWAYS ask these questions. My friends are used to it. It all started because a) Im a Southerner, b) we dont like awkward silences, c) if makes us not feel so uppity that someone else is driving us around even if we are paying you AND over tipping you, and finally d) its just habit for me now. I do it even when my friends are in the taxi, but only because it embarrasses the heck out of them. Hahahaha they think Im just being nosey but I NEVER do anything without a reason. As for poor T, she has only just moved in to her brand new building and will be forever known as the woman from the stinky elevator. She can blame it on that out of town girl, who doesnt know how to behave herself properly in the big city. Country comes to town in other words. Of course if youve been on a subway train in Chicago you arent phased by these types of fragrant smells as they are commonplace, or so Ive been told. In the three years that I actuslly let T convince me to ride the train (it had to be at least 40 below wind chill and not a cab in sight for a minimum of fifteen minutes because I was just sure there was a cab coming any second now, as I lost the feeling in every part of my body kind of situatioon ....... I did ...... just once ....... FINALLY let T convince me to take a train. BUT, I had a boot / cast on my foot and since that meant no stairs to the L train for me, it meant the elevator for just one floor up. Holy Mother of Juicy Fruit ..... while the stench was overwhelming I do remember T saying, Prepare yourself and DONT TOUCH ANYTHING. So what do you ask do these stories about coke, disgusting beer, stinky elevators, and awkward taxi rides have in common? Well thats easy. Coke and beer both make me fart, just as a future reference; and to whomever keeps hiding the bottle opener from me ...... Ahhhhh that would be you Dad, This Farts for You. Merry Christmas Papa. Hahahaha K ~ Sassy Southern Diva - Writer
Posted on: Sat, 13 Dec 2014 08:41:01 +0000
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