He Who Smelt It

I haven't updated in awhile. Mostly because my life has been a mess. And an uninteresting mess at that. It will probably continue this way for the days to come. When I tried to take a study break on Saturday to attend a jazz show and escape all the madness, we ended up sitting by the fartiest farts West of the Mississippi. I wanted to make a joke about it, or at least ask Nic if he smelt it too since he sat next to me, but thought it'd be awkward if it was him who dealt it. Turns out, it wasn't. The smell persisted long after he left and all along I kept hoping no one would think it was me and wondering who had the audacity to fart through an hour long jazz performance. Do you know how hard it is to be classy and cultured when it smells like fart all around you? Not very easy.

Later that night, we had an extensive discussion on flatulence during SuperSnack, which concluded when Mac announced that if I could invent the breath mint equivalent for farts, he would pay very good money for it and possibly trade his liver for the device. We also discussed the fact that if TimmyCakes ever gave Mac his liver, Mac would probably stop whining about "not clotting" and "hemophilia" but TimmyCakes might die. Frankly, I'm surprised that Tim hasn't yet offered his liver.

The light in the midst of the busyness and sleep deprivation, however, is the discovery of a new love: The C-store recently started selling Szechuan Peppers Pringles Select Rice Crisps. They sound nasty. The packaging is pretentious. And the price is a complete rip-off. But they are delicious. Not suitable for sharing (that Sesame just eats it all). And already sold out at the C-store. So delicious that I would trade no less than two fingers for a lifetime supply. In fact, the only way I am motivated to get through each day and finish my work is actually the thought of being able to get through another day to go to the C-store and see the crisps restocked.