I Have Gas

This is a public service announcement - as of the time of this posting, I have gas.

This is not your every day, run-of-the mill gas. Were this so, I would not feel the need to profess my gaseousness across these blogwaves. This is not the gas that one typically gets from completing their regular cycle of eating, digesting and excreting. No, this is something more powerful, more dastardly, more sinister than your average bout of flatulence.

This is the type of gas that makes you question your own health and, yes, the existence of God. This is "Dear Lord, I hope nobody comes within 25 feet of me right now" gas. This is "oh boy, is this a fart or a shit?" gas. It is "any creature under 45 pounds would surely die if they caught a whiff of this" gas. It's brutal.

What have I done to deserve this? What could I have perpetrated against the souls that guide fate and the cosmos? What Karmic withdrawal did I instigate that has now come back to haunt me in the form of this vociferous, malodorous ailment? What crawled up my ass and died?

Please be mindful that great care must be taken in my current condition - I am surrounded on all sides by air-breathing individuals with a keen sense of hearing and a knack for visiting me at the most inopportune of moments. In addition, the temperament of this gas has somehow confused the section of my brain that alerts my bowels when to clench and my anus when to open in an effort to unleash whatever waste product lies within. Therefore, I am naturally concerned for both my social and physical well-being as a result of this gas. This is certainly disheartening.

Oh my God, here comes one....UGH!

Thankfully that was silent, but God forbid another human being come within my vicinity right now. They too will wonder just what unholy activities are occurring inside my digestive tract. They'll wonder if I've contracted some horrid, contagious ailment that I will pass on to them, leaving them at the mercy of their own foul odor.

Was it those steak tacos I had for lunch yesterday? Or the green beans from the night before? I am truly perplexed.

Yes friends, I have gas. Steer clear until further notice.

Until next time...

Children's Toys, Adult Humor, and the Killjoys at Leap Frog

As a relatively new father, two of the greatest joys I now experience on a daily basis are 1) watching my boy play and 2) watching my boy learn. Imagine then, if you will, my sheer excitement upon learning that young Brooks had received Leap Frog's Alphabet Pal as a gift. For those of you not in the know, the Alphabet Pal is a 14-inch long purple caterpillar bearing a welcoming grin and a desire to teach your child the ever-important alphabet. The Pal has 26 legs, each one festooned with bright, appealing colors and one letter of the alphabet (in sequential order no less!). So Brooks not only learns his ABC's, he also derives pleasure by playing with a cheerfully hued giant insect that talks back to him (note: currently, he has mastered trying to cram the entire bug in his mouth, so I'm hoping the appreciation of letters is not too far behind).

While most of Brooks's toys provide little if any stimulation for yours truly, my initial review of the Alphabet Pal's features led me to conclude that I too would be able to amuse myself with this delightful creature. You see, this toy has four settings of interactive fun:

1. The Alphabet Pal recites the letter corresponding to the leg you press
2. The Alphabet Pal recites the color corresponding to the leg you press
3. The Alphabet Pal sounds out the letter corresponding to the leg you press
4. The Alphabet Pal sings variations of the Alphabet Song to your youngster

Considering these settings, I immediately determine that setting 2 does me no good, as I have had my colors mastered for some time now. And setting 4 does nothing more than make me want to hurl the beast out of my window, so I don't get much out of that one. However, the possibilities with settings 1 and 3 seemed endless! Immediately upon freeing the caterpillar from his cardboard prison, I flipped on setting 1 (reciting the letters) and set about the process of amusing myself:

"F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U. F-U."

"Hee hee" I thought as Michelle wondered why she married me. "This is too much fun!" After going through other clever combinations such as A-S-S and S-H-I-T, I decide that the hilarity could be driven to new heights were I to make this toy actually sound out swear words! I giddily switch the Alphabet Pal to setting 3 and go right for the throat...

I press F. "Ffffeh"

U. "Uh"

Now, the cherry on top, K...

"Heeheeheehee, that tickles! Kuh."

Wha? That's not supposed to happen! A glitch, I think, as I repeat the sequence...

"Ffffeh...Uh...Heeheeheehee, that tickles! Kuh."

What the Ffffeh-Uh-Kuh is the problem here? I try again and again and again, but every time, this little shit has me figured out, claiming that I am tickling one of his 26 appendages rather than saying "Fuck" like I want him too. Undaunted, I shift gears...

A. "Aaa"

S. "Heeheeheehee, that tickles! Ssss."

"This can't be happening," I think. I press on...

D. "Duh"

I. "(short) i"

K (c'mon, please...). "Heeheeheehee, that tickles! Kuh."

Now I'm getting pissed! Why would those bastards at Leap Frog do this to me? The recommended age on this toy is 12 months to 3 years - those kids can't even spell! Why would they rob me of this small pleasure??? Are they so cold and calculating that they don't trust me to do what's right? Of course I'm thinking all of this while trying to spell out swear words on my five-month old son's toy, but come on! He goes to bed at 7:00, and the Alphabet Pal sits there and tempts me like the serpent with the forbidden apple, only I cannot take a bite. I finally reach my wit's end...

K. "Kuh"

U. "Uh"

N. "Nnn"

T. "Tuh"

VICTORY IS MINE! I beat those fuckers! Kiss my goddamn ass, you piece of shit! Of course, I am soon knocked off of my high horse by Michelle's look of disgust/horror (she hates that word, and rightfully so). At that moment I realized that I was corrupting my son's toy, his implement of learning, his window into a world he currently cannot comprehend. The shame is overwhelming, and I begin to sob uncontrollably. OK, that last part didn't really happen, but the message was clear - give it up, you can't win. Defeated, I shut the Alphabet Pal off, refusing to subject him to any future amoral activities that would taint his effectiveness as a champion of the alphabet.

Except, of course, for the occasional "F-U". Old habits die hard.

Until next time (when judging by the timing of the last posting, only God knows when that might be)...