GAS ATTACKS

You know what I love? Stinking up the elevator.

Here's what I do. I feel a good one locked and loaded in the ass chamber and I wait. I watch the numbers tick down (or up if that's where I'm headed) and when I'm just three floors away, I let rip. I then shake my pants a bit to work the aroma out, and exit confidently knowing the next person to step inside that ass locker is going to gag on the stench. Don't lie - I know you do it too! People fart in elevators as readily as they pick their nose in the car. It's just the natural thing to do. Elevators are already cramped, uncomfortable places - we can't help but get the urge to dish a little gas. And I, for one, don't fight it.

Have you ever stepped onto an elevator all by yourself and smelled something awful? Yeah - that was me. And the worst part is when the doors open up and someone else gets on. They immediately assume you were the one responsible for that aromatic catastrophe. And you desperately want to explain that you had nothing to do with it - that some monkey with a typewriter on the intenet was the one to blame.

But who'd believe that monkey business?

If I'm in a stinky elevator with a bunch of people, I figure I've got farte blanche to make a deposit of my own. If the air pool is already tainted, what's the point in holding back?

This whole conversation has got me worked up for my next elevator ride. Gotta run!