Monday 30 June 2014

Farts are funny. A tale of Pistachios.

I thought it might be time for a post that isn't about my baby.
Or me, as a Mum.

Sometimes I feel like that's all I am. Mummy. Mum. Ma-Muggy.

I'm not sure why people thought we were on drugs?

It's not who I've always been. At one point, before I really considered myself an adult,  I was a crazy, on-campus Uni student. I did very little study and a whole lot of procrastination.
I actually think if they had a course in procrastination, I would have graduated with honours.




The very first University human I met, was my friend Emma. I still have her saved in my phone as Penis. Which is hilarious every time she calls. Every. Single. Time.

I spent SO many hours in Emma's room, up the hall, or with her in my room. She shared my stupid, time wasting, sense of humour. She still does.

We used to leave messages for each other on the internal phones (Only calling when we knew the other wasn't there to answer). We left elaborate stories, spoken in strange, inconsistent accents, from countries that didn't exist. Mostly about noodles, if I remember correctly.

The most memorable moment, while living in the same building as Emma, was the day she bought pistachios.

Not just a couple...
One of those 500g bags, from Aldi.
I think Emma forgot she was eating them. I think her hand kept reaching into the pack, breaking open the nut and then she ate it, without even realising she was doing it. I blame her computer.

I had noticed that Emma was missing that day. She'd been in her room for a really long time.

So, I knocked. She answered.

My nostrils stung. What the hell was that smell!?

Wedding photo hijacker.

Emma giggled. I think she saw my face.

I saw the pistachio shells scattered on her desk.

Next thing, I hear a noise.

Me: Emma? Did you fart?

She giggled again.

Emma: No... Ok, maybe? Your face farted...Shuddup!

I soon found out, she had eaten over half the bag. And the stench was pistachio fart. Pure, concentrated pistachio fart. She could have bottled it and sold it to... No-one. Ever.

From that day forward, I vowed I would never let her forget her pistachio farts! And now, no-one else will either.


Farts are funny.

Please share a pre-motherhood/adult life story in the comments. I don't want to be the only dork in the room!

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8 comments:

  1. Farts are funny!
    I dont know how I ever managed to marry my husband he used to be king of the cupcake :/ soooo wrong he is in the process of teaching my children GROSS

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    1. Naughty Mr N!! Haha! But, also very funny!

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  2. Once upon a time, a very long time ago, through a series of improbable events, I spent the night in a Vietnamese brothel, then the next morning danced to Michael Jackson on a balcony for an unsuspecting audience. I think back on my pre-motherhood days and go - hang on, yes, that was ME. It seems like a lifetime ago, and thank you for reminding me of this silly story :) ANd I concur, for no good reason, farts are funny.

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    1. That is a hilarious story!! Thanks for sharing and for the comment love!

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  3. Oh man I could practically smell the farts reading this story.
    Which is really kind of gross.
    Um a funny story.... I'm coming up completely blank. I did hide in someones hedge once when I was 17 on a dare. We thought it was hilarious, and then when I got out, were horrified to find this gaping hole in a completely pristine hedge. I still to this day wonder what the owners thought when they saw it.

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    1. I love that story!! Thank you for sharing! Sounds like something I would do now, actually. But I'm 28, not 17! I bet the owners shook their heads and said "Kids these days!"

      See you next week! I'll definitely be joining you for IBOT every week.

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  4. Oh boy, I don't think I can confess many, if any, of my pre-motherhood stories on a public blog! What if my daughters came across it one day?! I was naughty. My hope is that my daughters never do half of what I did!

    My stomach turned just a little as my mind opened the door to Emma's room filled with pistachio farts! Gross!

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    1. I think I need to hear some of these stories in person Mrs D! I promise I wont tell the girls. I'll tell them lovely stories about their Mumma. ;)

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