Blame it on the Heat

Are you just dying in this heat wave? It's been in the nineties in Wisconsin this week. My house is so hot it feels locked in a car parked on John Goodman's taint. On the sun.

I'm sitting here waiting for a breeze, wearing a nice, gorilla sheen.

First, a bit of news: passport success! After waiting three hours in the line to get into the line that waits for the line to speak with a passport agent. We leave for Canada next Friday. Our luggage will be leaving with us, but with three layovers, it may not be arriving with us.

After we left the passport office we met my brother for a late lunch in downtown Chicago. After three hours in line at a Federal office, the ladies' room in the restaurant seemed like a good place to start. Shortly after I entered the empty bathroom, a woman came in and took the stall next to me. She immediately blasted a thunderous, tile-shaking fart that lasted at least five seconds.

"Oh! Sorry!" she said, cheerfully. "Oops, I've got one more on the way!"

And she farted again--long, loud, and surprisingly musical. Here was a woman with considerable pride in her intestinal prowess.

I was dumbstruck. Usually when someone begins tooting up a storm in the stall next to you, you just quiver with quiet laughter until you rejoin your friends at the table and tell them all about it. The tooter never attempts to explain this behavior. Never attempts to make contact. Never announces the coming attractions nor apologizes for them afterwards. This was going against every rule of bathroom etiquette collectively understood by humanity.

"Uh-oh, I lied," she said, farting again. It was endless. She giggled and blithely added, "Well, if you can't do it here, where can you do it?"

"Um, yeah!" I finally answered. My stomach hurt from laughing so hard. It was easily the most disgusting, uncomfortable, and hilarious moment of my life, and I couldn't wait to tell J and my brother. Before they ate. First, I wanted to get the hell out of there. Unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough, and she joined me at the sinks: Frizzy gray hair shaped like a large triangle, glasses, and a giant smile.

I immediately knew which friends I wanted to share this with. Like, everyone who reads this, I guess.

Food bits: Tomorrow's CSA box will have garlic scapes, sugar snap peas, and strawberries!

Waste some time: Texts from Last Night