ASS HAPPY

This morning I found a whoopie cushion in the back of one of the cabinets here at work and life at the office will never be the same. I've been walking aroung trumpeting it loudly all morning long, mostly to awkward chuckles and turning heads. It's one of those self-filling whoopie cushions, too, so instead of having to blow it up after each flatulent expulsion, it swells up on its own.

This efficiency in third-world-produced gag gifts has enabled me to get far more use out of it than any other toot-mimicking toy of its kind. Innovation rocks!

I've spent a good bit of my day attmepting to perfect a virtual symphony of fart sounds. I just followed up a long, high-pitched ass siren with a series of bassy cheek blasters that sounded like a like a chipmunk getting run over by a lawn mower. You would have loved it. Here - let me try another one for you.

Did you hear that? Yeah. A Harley Davidson crashing into an ambulance. Sweet.

And the best part is, I've been using this damn thing so frequently, I've a been able to fart as loud as I like - and no once can tell the difference. At least not until they walk by my desk. But most people know better than to try that by now.