Bad Smell Karma

Bad Smell Karma

First and foremost, LT rocks for his stellar play that has pushed our fantasy football team above and beyond the call of duty. Okay fine, and also for that whole breaking Shaun Alexander's record thing. LT restores my faith in pro athletes. If I worked at the NFL I would tote his picture along and flash it every time a player got arrested for drunk driving, murder, assaulting a police officer.

Anyway there's no appropriate segue, but I now have bad fart smelling karma.

It all stems from a text message Steve sent me from the airport last week. He asked me if I knew who Becky Hammon was and I replied that unfortunately, I still had some residual basketball knowledge left from my time at the WNBA league office. (It would be nice if you could climb into your own brain and scrub useless crap out but then what would be left.) He said that he'd conversed with her at the airport for 15 minutes or so, but thinks he drove her away with a fart because all of a sudden she "had to catch a plane." Being the good friend that I am, I laughed my ass off. A lot. If there's anything funnier than farting in front of a stranger, it's cutting a horrible one loose in front of a stranger who's kind of famous (Chill people, I said "kind of.")

So I was on the treadmill at the gym yesterday and an older gentleman next to me farted. The smell was overpowering, even if one hadn't been sprinting for ten minutes and out of breath because she lacks endurance. I tried to stay the course and keep running, so I wouldn't have to start my workout over at a different time. But his second one almost knocked me off the treadmill. I gave up and ran out of there, which actually served no purpose because I left my cell phone behind and had to immerse myself in the smell again to retrieve it.

After doing some sit-ups, I went into the Nautilus room and got on the anal pron machine. Yes, I'm sure it has an official name but you get on your hands and knees, grip something and grunt until your ass hurts. Thus, the anal pron machine. I looked up in between sets, right into the ass of the same older man from the cardio room. He was now in the machine next to me. I held my breath, finished my leg lifts and ran to twisty side-to-side machine. Except we were apparently on some weird parallel wavelength because at the same time, he sat down at the ab machine, with his ass to me once again. Keep in mind there are like 50 different machines in this room. So this time, after working out on the machine, instead of moving to the other ab machine like I was planning, I sat there and waited to see where he was going. He sat down at the leg press, which was across from the machine I was going to next, and this time I would have been sitting five feet from his open legs, directly in the line of fire. I went back to the cardio room. Luckily, while I was back on the treadmill again I saw him leave the gym.

By the way, the "Kids Say The Darndest Things" stage has officially begun. A heavyset man with grey hair and a red jacket walked by Geo at the gym and one of our three-year-olds pointed and cried out "Santa Claus!!!!!!!!" Geo was mortified but I couldn't stop laughing when he told me about it later.