So last Monday night I found myself a little lonely and in desperate need of some entertainment. I had been in Florida over Christmas and surrounded by people for days at a time. Sitting in my apartment staring at the walls did not sound like a fabulous idea. I looked over at my suit case that I still had not unpacked and the piles of laundry next to it that I could surely do to occupy my time. It only took me about three seconds to pick up the phone and text the OG instead. He was standing outside of my door within an hour.

As I opened the door I let out a small sigh and smiled. This time he was more appropriately dressed and was looking rather dashing in his black rimmed glasses. Moments late we found our way over to the couch and opened the bottle of wine that he had brought with him. This evening was getting better by the minute. He had also brought over some fruit that he peeled and fed to me. This wasn’t quite as lame as it sounds I promise. It’s not like he cut it up for me baby style and said here comes the plane right before she shoved it in my mouth. This was much more adult and to be honest kind of endearing. After a few minutes of “How was your Christmas” and “What are your plans for New Years” we decided to watch my new favorite movie, The Hangover. I turned off all of the lights in the living room with the exception of the Christmas tree. Everything was set for a nice quiet evening at home. I snuggled up next to the OG just as the movie started to play.

This is where the evening starts to go down hill and fast.

I realized rather quickly that my date for the evening was not the movie buff that I considered myself to be. I had to remind myself that he had probably been around when silent movies were all the rage and may still be getting used to a color television. After almost every scene he would ask me “So what’s going on here”… I would spend the next five or so minutes explaining to him the premise of the movie or the reason why I laughed at a particular line. We were not watching The Talented Mr. Ripley or Clockwork Orange. This was the kind of movie even a five year old could have grasped.

Just when I thought things could not get worse they did. I was still snuggled up to gramps when he hit with me with some of the worst gas I have experienced in my adult life. I had just been bombed by the ever infamous silent but deadly fart. I immediately looked over at him in complete disgust. His eyes were fixated on the movie screen; he did not dare look at me. I started to dry heave just a little as the fumes made their way through my nose. I knew this maneuver all to well seeing as how I had just pulled the same shenanigans on my brother Christmas Eve in church. I had blown him out of the water just before we sang Silent Night. He told me later that it was like being hit with a heat wave and that he thought he might have even inhaled some of it. I now knew first hand what I had put my brother through.

You would have thought that the one that he let get away would have been enough motivation for him to clench his butt cheeks together for the rest of the movie. This was not the case. I sat there for the next hour or so holding back tears from the poisonous gas that surrounded me and practiced holding my breath for as long as I could.

It is a little known fact that the older people get the more they loose the ability to control the noises, or smells for that matter, that come out of their anus. I considered asking OG if this was in fact the case but reluctantly I sat quietly as he blasted me 3 or 4 more times during the movie. I tried to my hardest not to burst into laughter when even the dog jumped down and went into the other room.