the fartless wonder…

Posted in Life with tags , , , , , on January 12, 2018 by fromthenuthousewithlove

Recently I’ve been seeing a lot of posts about farting in relationships, and so I thought I would share my story.
Before anything else, I need to share with you an experience from my childhood. It was December of 1987, I was 9 years old and the whole school was gathered in the gym to watch the choir sing Christmas carols. It was really annoying for 2 reasons, the first was we had to listen to amateurs sing songs that none of us were interested in, except for Frosty the Snowman and Jingle Bells. The second was they didn’t even give enough of a shit to provide chairs for us, so we had to sit on the cold ass gym floor, for 4 fucking hours! Needless to say, we got super restless, and instead of singing along, we all chit chatted amongst ourselves or threw ourselves on the floor dramatically, and then pretended to make snow angels.
At that age, I didn’t really have BFF’s or anything. I was just friendly with everyone but didn’t belong to a specific group. I liked it that way. Anyway the choir was singing away, it was a song I was not really familiar with, but I was sitting on my knees bopping up and down to the music, trying desperately to get into it so that I could stop being bored, when it happened. A fart had accidentally fallen out of my bum, right when the music stopped playing. This was the first time that had ever happened to me, I didn’t feel a fart coming, it just zapped out of my butthole like lightning. Of course EVERYONE turned around looking to see if they could find the disgraceful piece of shit that completely emptied the room of any Christmas spirit that was there. It was at that moment that I realized no one knew it was me. My crisis was averted! No panic was necessary, however I felt I needed to blend in with the others, so I began to look around, pretending to scout out the culprit, to keep up the façade.
I looked to my right, adjusting the expression on my face to match the others, and I looked to my left…and right there…a hand, with a finger pointing right at me, behind it was one of my classmates, with her shirt pulled up over her nose. A feeling of terror began to rise up within me, as I repeated in my mind “please, don’t say it, please don’t say it…” She pulled down her shirt and screamed “SHE FARTED!!!!!” and then everyone’s eyes were on me. I don’t know how many shades of red exist in the colour spectrum, but I can assure you I went through each and every one of them. Everyone laughed, and pointed. I of course did my best to deny it, I even went to the extreme of saying I was making fake fart noises with my mouth. No one bought it.
The tragedy that took place that day, set a new tone in my life. From that day I vowed I would never again have an accident, I would become a fartless wonder. People would see me and wonder “Is she even human?”.  Years passed, and relationships come and gone, and in each of those relationships that have gone, I am proud to say that not once did I fart in the presence of another person. I even made a deal with my boyfriend when we first started dating, that we never fart in front of each other, because I was so traumatized from the unfortunate incident of ’87.
A few months ago we were on our way back from walking the dogs, him with Odin in tow, and myself with Luna. We entered through the back of the building and walked down the long hallway in the basement. I had a quick burst of energy that evening, and so I decided to race him to the elevator. Racing my boyfriend usually consists of me running as fast as I can until I get tired, or reach a checkpoint (in this scenario the checkpoint was the elevator), and my boyfriend basically just walks at his regular pace. I always end up winning, and he always ends up claiming that he wasn’t racing, but it sounds so me like he just can’t accept that I always win.
I am unsure of exactly how the event that unfolded took place, all I remember is that while I was waiting for Mr. Slowpoke to catch up, there was this incredibly loud eruption, it sounded like when you move a chair that you’re too lazy to lift so you kind of half drag it, and it ends up sounding like an injured Goose, but much deeper, and more amplified because apparently the acoustics in the basement of my building are incredible. The sound sent shockwaves down the hall and echoed it’s way down to the other end, to this day my boyfriend swears he saw and felt the floor move in the form of a wave. If that wasn’t bad enough, I heard voiced coming from the inside of people’s apartments saying “what the FUCK was that?!?” while my boyfriend was convulsing in laughter on the floor.
For a brief moment I felt like I was 9 years old again, a part of me wanted to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich, because not only did I fart in front of my boyfriend for the very first time in the 5 years we’ve been together, but it had rippling effects that were felt by pretty much anyone that was within a 50 foot radius. The other part of me started laughing for that exact reason.
So, as much as I’m sad to report that I can no longer walk proudly as the fartless wonder, and the fart seal in our relationship has most definitely been broken, at least I can say the way it was broken was pretty freaking epic.





Moses VS Vitamin P: Close Call

Posted in Moses Vs Vitamin P with tags , , , , on September 15, 2017 by fromthenuthousewithlove

The attacks from Moses are increasing again now that my location has been discovered. His minions have had me under surveillance, they know where I sleep, they know where I work, they now know my family and most importantly, they know when I’m alone. They are trying to plant some sort of device in me, this is the only thing I know for sure.
Judging by this attack I knew that he has expanded his intelligence department. I was at work when they made their move, they not only waited until I was away from the chosen one, they also waited until I was outside of the building having a smoke,  so as not to attract security. They also planned it on a day where most people are off, as well as more likely to be lazy. A Friday. Being a Friday, I too, was in a passive and inattentive mood.
I stood there with my cigarette in hand, wishing I was at home so that I could enjoy this beautiful day. Little did I know, the minions were watching me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Timing is everything. They know this. They’ve been training, and they are well aware that I haven’t been. I was in the midst of letting out a casual, but lengthy yawn when they struck. Immediately I felt something in my mouth, I couldn’t inhale for fear of swallowing whatever had made its way into my mouth, and I couldn’t close my mouth for fear of trapping it inside and allowing it to succeed in its mission. I had to think fast because I felt it trying to latch onto my uvula, luckily for me, my uvula was constantly moving up and down, so whatever was in my mouth couldn’t get a firm grip.
With whatever breath I had in me, I began to exhale through my mouth as hard as I could, this created a force of wind that pushed it towards my teeth, and I know this because I felt its wings flutter against them as it tried to regain its balance.
I needed just one more force of air and I would be safe, however I had no more air in my lungs. There was only one other option left for me at this point, seeing as I couldn’t remove it from my mouth, my only other option was to remove myself from it. I knew I only had once chance to execute this correctly. I had to summon up all of my strength for this, and with a quick backwards thrust, I back-flipped myself away from it and just before it was able to regain its balance I kicked it while my feet were in the air, and then landed back upright.
The whole ordeal happened rather quickly, even though through my eyes it was as if time stood still. It was now on the ground, I could hear its defeated moans as I approached her staggering body. She looked at me, and with a half wicked smirk, she spoke. “If you don’t finish me off now, I’m coming for you later”. I stared back at her as I took the last drag of my smoke, and said “Next time, I’ll be ready”. I blew the smoke on her face before I casually made my way back to work.


“The Mood” strikes again…

Posted in Random Thoughts with tags , , , on September 13, 2017 by fromthenuthousewithlove

I’m a terrible blogger, I know this. I try to change it, but it never seems to work out. I do want to set the record straight though, it’s not that I haven’t logged into my account, it’s not that I haven’t attempted to write a post…believe me, if you see all the posts I have saved in my drafts you’d be shaking your head at me. Some of you might be wondering, if I have so many of those posts, why did I go ahead and post this one instead of finishing the other hundreds I have written.
Well, in case anyone hasn’t noticed, my blog actually does have a theme. I know, I know, I just blew your minds! I’ll wait until all the debris settles before I tell you what it is, *insert elevator music here* … ok are you ready?…The theme of my blog is “in the moment”.  Don’t throw tomatoes at me just yet though, hear me out! You see, there are many different aspects to the kind of person I am. I am a planner in some aspects of my life, and in others I fly by the seat of my pants…whatever that means. When it comes to writing, I fly by the seat of my pants, my posts are usually done because a certain mood has struck me. Now, sometimes “The Mood” will last until I have actually finished a post, and other times that mood leaves me hanging half way through. The reason it leaves is because it literally bored itself of the topic it was so excited to write about only 30 seconds earlier. This mood is almost like a separate entity, it comes and goes as it pleases, it fly’s by the seat of its own pants, assuming it wears pants.
The part of me that’s left when the mood is gone, still feels there is potential in that post, and doesn’t want to give up on it, so I save it for a later date. While “The Mood” is off somewhere laughing at me and calling me a sucker.
So on behalf of “The Mood” I send out an apology to anyone who actually enjoys reading my posts, you mean the world to me, and I thank you for hanging in there while I try to find a way to strap it down.

Moses VS Vitamin P: Infiltration

Posted in Moses Vs Vitamin P with tags , , , , , , , , on July 12, 2017 by fromthenuthousewithlove

It’s been a few years since my last encounter with Moses, or one of his minions. I was under the assumption that he was either incarcerated, dead, or had become so enraged at his inability to defeat me that he developed a drinking problem which rendered him weak, unable to think clearly, and eventually caused him to lose all interest in our war. Turns out, all those sayings about how you shouldn’t assume, are correct, and I found that out by nearly having my family destroyed.
It was a beautiful evening, and the man I have chosen to give my love to (which makes him, The Chosen One) was sitting across from me in our villa by the lake. Our two dogs, Luna and Odin by our feet resting after a long walk and Lint (The Destroyer) standing guard at the edge of the balcony, keeping watch as she has done for the last 16 years. She’s an integral part of the team which is why I have entrusted her to train Luna and Odin, because she’s planning on retiring and well, after this night, it’s obvious I need protection.
As peaceful as the evening was, something felt off. I should have trusted myself, but the warrior in me was as faded as the ink gets on gas station receipts.  I should have trusted Lint, when I saw her stare blankly at nothing, as she does when something is afoot, but I ignored her warning stare. I ignored the boiling inferno within me, and that’s when I felt it. A light tap between my shoulder blades. That was all it took for all the memories of my past to come flooding back to me and send me into a frenzying fury! I turned to The Chosen One, “prepare to defend my honor” I said in my warrior voice, which is a tone he has never heard before. This left him puzzled, “I am under attack, we must prepare for battle” I added for clarification, because this chosen one sometimes requires repetition. The Chosen One looks at me, as if I were crazy “what are you talking about? sit down, relax” and folks, I gotta tell you, if eye-rolling had a sound effect, that would be the tone his voice had taken. This had me concerned, because having someone labeled as “The Chosen One” you would expect them to be a little more in sync with what is going on, but I had to take into consideration that perhaps he has not yet been made aware of his title, or what it means. Which meant that there was a good chance I was going to be on my own in this battle.
Inside my living room I began to search for my provisions, because I hadn’t used them in quite some time I was having a difficult time locating them. I was just about to ask The Chosen One if he had by chance seen a spray bottle of blue liquid almost identical to a Windex bottle when I felt it. A tap followed by a vibration down my spine. This sensation was quite foreign to me. Was this going to be the end of me!? I panicked. I turned to The Chosen one and asked him to perform a full body scan on me. He looked at me and laughed and told me I was crazy. This was not boding well for me, I was starting to question if he was a minion of Moses undercover sent to infiltrate my home by gaining my trust and distracting me from my true mission.
I felt the vibration again, only this time it went down to my lower back which resulted in an uncontrollable wave of body spasms. The Chosen One, still laughing decided to humour me, looked down the back of my tank top and assured me nothing was there. I wanted to believe him. I really did, but the problem with being a top level warrior such as myself is you can’t just believe someone when you know your senses don’t lie. He must have noticed the unpleasant expression on my face because he then told me to remove my upper garments so that he could have a better look. I obliged, he examined my back, reportedly found nothing, and walked away shaking his head “It’s probably just the tag from your shirt” he stated, boldly.
I considered that for a moment, perhaps I was going crazy, perhaps all my years of being a warrior has affected my brain. Just as I had come to the conclusion that he could be right, I felt the same sensation again, on the cheek of *gulp*…my butt. I swung my arm around and bunched my pants and underwear in my hand, and stood there not knowing what to do. This was definitely NOT my imagination. I was being bugged. Moses sent one of his minions out to plant a recording device so he could spy on me.
The Chosen One entered the room and saw me standing in this awkward position, both pants and underwear have managed to shimmy down to the knees. My hand still clenching the bunch from behind and im bent over examining the inner workings of my panties, looking for the wire. I hear laughter in the distance, but I ignore it and make my way stealthily to the bathroom. I crush the bunch I am holding with my bear hand, and when I let go…out he fell, a June bug. He presented me with a little note, before he took his last breath. “I’m back”…

lovesick girl…

Posted in Love and Relations with tags , , , on February 23, 2017 by fromthenuthousewithlove

I’ve dated real “winners” in my day, and I’ll tell you all about each of these precious beings in future posts so be sure to keep an eye out for them, for now I’m going to focus on how my whole roller coaster ride of relationships began. Now keep in mind, I was what I self-diagnosed myself as “Love-sick”. What I mean by that is, all I ever wanted out of life, was to find my one true love. To get married, and be happy (notice I didn’t mention kids!!!). I don’t know why I was this way to be honest. I think it may have to do with the fact that I was brought up to believe that I wasn’t allowed to move out of the house unless I was married, so I associated being married with the freedom to live my own life.
So off course, this gal sets herself on a mission to find her “one true love” (when I say that in my head, I think it’s important you know that I have Ursula’s voice from The Little Mermaid saying “the kiss of true love” and then it breaks off into the whole “you’ll have your looks, your pretty face” song, don’t ask). I didn’t know what qualities I wanted in my future husband, I just knew that I wanted to be married and out of the house by the age of 20. Being 16 at the time, I figured 4 years would have been plenty of time to meet someone and get to know them, but I had to act fast. Meeting someone in school wasn’t very promising, I mean I had my crushes, believe me I did. I never talked to them though, in fact they never even knew I existed. I was in “love” with them from afar. I would doodle their names on pieces of paper, I would figure out their schedule and just sort of casually meet my friends in the same areas and sneak glances, and I never DARED tell anyone who I liked. If I did my crush might find out, and I just couldn’t risk it. In fact, I went as far as telling my friends I was crushing on someone else, just to steer them away from the truth. Yes, I was that terrified. Now I could be wrong, but I feel like younger generations may not actually understand what personal anguish it was to have your crush find out you like them, and them not like you back. It ruined the whole fantasy because then it was almost like you couldn’t like them anymore, because you lost the hope that they would like you back. That’s a shitty fantasy, and to a girl like younger me, it was downright terrifying, because how the hell was I going to make a wedding happen at this rate?!?! This was going to be the beginning of what at the time seemed to be an endless search. I barely even started.
Needless to say, I never met my one true love in high school, and I never got married at the age of 20 like I had planned, or 25…or even 30…hell, I’m still not married. I did meet the love of my life though, and I learned things about myself along the way. Important things, that everyone should learn about themselves before getting married. So if I had to go back now, to the age of 16, I would definitely have a different set of priorities, and if someone would have actually proposed to me, at that age, well they’d get a hard no, but thanks for playing.


the “hate-it” list (volume 2)…

Posted in Things that peeve me with tags , , , , on November 24, 2016 by fromthenuthousewithlove

Where the hell have I been the last 6 months? well, no where interesting. I’m here now though, because I have to add a fourth item to my list of things I hate. In the first volume, I had 3 items in one post, this one will be more focused and will only have 1. What can I possibly hate so much that deserves an entire post dedicated to my hatred for it? Well read on and find out! I’ll give you a hint, it’s not coffee.
What I get when I do order my coffee is another story, because when I do make a coffee purchase, from a coffee shop, I want to be able to tell them what I want, and have them make it for me. If I have to add my own cream/milk and sugar and pay over $2 a cup. That’s when I have a problem. It irritates me for two reasons, the first being the more obvious one…that I’m paying for it and have to “fix it” myself. I mean, come on, it’s not like you’re prices are cheap to begin with. I feel like I should be compensated for all this free manual labour I am providing. What next?, I’ll order a breakfast sandwich and have to add my own toppings? Do it yourself coffee is not an appealing scenario for me, because in that case, I would just make it at home. So instead of complaining about it, then why don’t I? That’s why I pay someone and have it done for me, sheesh, get off my tits!
The second one is, that I can never get the proper coffee to cream ratio. Certain establishments, and by using that term I am referring to the ones that give you what you pay for. They use little dispensers, that in my opinion deposit the most desirable amount of milk, cream or sugar. However when you do it yourself, you’re stuck with packets of sugar that you can only assume will be enough, so let’s say I normally order a double double. That would inform the “barista” that I would like 2 creams, and 2 sugars. Simple, easy, efficient. If I go into a shop where I have to add my own sugar, 2 packets of sugar does absolutely nothing, so I’ll add 2 more, which brings my total up to 4 packets and still my whole entire mouth is filled with complete bitterness. Now I don’t know if that bitterness is related to the fact that I have to pay someone to provide my own services. Or if the sugar packet to sugar dispenser ratio needs some tweaking. Either way, it’s disappointment with every sip.
You think that’s bad, I then try adding my own cream or milk with those big ass cartons they have set up for you. Which I don’t know about you but sometimes I wonder how many people have actually put their mouth on that carton and taken a sip, but I can only hope that my imagination is running on fast forward with that thought. Sometimes if you’re lucky instead of a carton you get those little mini buckets with the peel off lid. I feel safer using those, but I mean then I’m standing there for 20 minute because I have to go through like 40 of them to get my desired shade. Which, even when reaching that shade, is still a gamble, and what happens when you gamble? you lose.

so…i failed my challenge…

Posted in 30 Day Challenge, Life with tags , , , , , on May 9, 2016 by fromthenuthousewithlove

Ok, so I failed my 30 day writing challenge. I did learn a valuable lesson though, I learned that my weekends consist of jam packing 7 days worth of events into two, twelve hour periods. It was unrealistic of me to think I could successfully write for 30 consecutive days. Now I’m not saying that it can’t be done by anyone…it just can’t be done by me. I’ve always been the kind of girl who bites off more than she can chew, though so I can see how I’ve gotten myself into this kerfuffle.
I’m not heartbroken about it though. To be honest, it was getting to the point where I was forcing myself to write even though I didn’t feel like it, and that’s not me. I need to be in the mood, I need to have the passion to get me through the end of the post. If I don’t feel it all the way to the end, then it’s not worth my writing. Also, I’m not saying I’m gonna stop writing. It just wont be every day. So for those of you that were rooting for me, I’m sorry, but life is something that happens no matter what you do to avoid it. Believe me, I’ve tried avoiding it, I still am actually but my plan never seems to work.
Any who, happy Monday folks! Tune in next time when I talk about something ridiculous!