One of the many advantages to having a dog, besides companionship, unconditional love, basically being forced to get off your ass and walk, living longer, and, if you're a guy or a lesbian, being a total chick magnet, is the convenient fact that you can blame the dog for any foul odors that may arise from your bum to say hello.
Yeah, not possible with my dog Blue. Because, you see, Blue produces farts that are so heinous, so horrific, such crimes of nature that it's painfully obvious when he does it because NO HUMAN COULD PRODUCE THAT SMELL. (I didn't think an animal would be able to produce it either, but there's always an exception to the rule, eh?)
I mean, this is coming from someone who has grown up in an Italian house. Where garlic is actually brought to the table by a dump truck. Where peppers, sausage, and parmesan, romano, and asiago cheeses are as commonplace as...I don't know...perhaps maybe water is at a normal house. I swear to God, every night is like the campfire scene from Blazing Saddles (speaking of Mel Brooks movies, I'm so heartbroken over Anne Bancroft dying she mine as well have been a relative).
So when we had the...experience...of smelling eau du Blue's ass for the first time, we naturally assumed it was one of us. We looked around at each other with the universal facial expression of "was that...YOU?" When we had all swore on Frank Sinatra's grave that it had indeed not come from us, as I was about to go out and check to see if someone has placed a river of raw sewage and rotting corpses in our front yard, we all spotted him looking so. freakin'. innocent. The Dog. Wow Blue. Just...wow.
What's weird is, this happened last year, meaning Blue was five years old. That means up until then, he hadn't expelled his secret weapon that even makes skunks go "dammmmmmnnnnnnn." It was because he hadn't gone out all day. It was hurricane season, and since Blue is more terrified of the rain than I am of the fact that I watched Dancing With The Stars, he refused to go outside to go the bathroom. He held it in instead. Which of course is what led to this whole thing.
The reason I mention this at all is
A)It is hurricane season again and I am not looking forward to digging out the gas mask I was forced to buy
B)I have nothing else to write about (unless you want to hear about how much tv I'm watching)
C)For you. What, you DON'T like hearing about dog farts?

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