It has recently come to my attention that my entire blog is devoid of fart jokes.
I was surprised and disappointed. I didn't purposefully avoid the subject on moral grounds or tactfulness. I am no stranger to gross things.
I began a serious introspection as to why farts have never made an appearance here. I even went on a hike in my backyard to sort my feelings out.
After walking 14 feet I realized it is because I am deeply scarred emotionally by farts and farting.
I grew up with the 3 grossest brothers in the world.
My young life was filled with rancidity.
All 3 of them practiced the low art form of "butter-cupping".
Do you know what that freaking is?!?!?!
It's when you fart into your hand then release it under someone's nose.
Crop dusting was also routinely practiced.
Where you fart while walking, misting your stench on innocent people.
There was a lot of of the boys simply sitting on top of you and farting in your face or in your lap. Like an unwelcome birthday gift.
Farts were regularly lit on fire, my pet kitten was regularly buttercupped, and if you pissed one of the boys off, they would fart on your pillow and tell you the next morning.
One of my little sisters was dating this total douche bag named TY. They were both 18 years old and in the teenage stage of claiming they were Vegetarian, because that is the trendy thing to do these days.
Our whole family hated this car-less, jobless, college-less, smug little pipsqueak. TY loved telling people that he was going to be a professor of theoretical physics. He didn't really know what that meant, but it sounded good.
My sis and Professor Douche were over for a family dinner at my parents house. My mom had made beef stew, so they sat at the table eating nothing since they were vegetarian and too cool.
TY was a self satisfied little idiot the whole dinner while my family played along.
After TY bragged about not eating the beef stew because he's vegetarian, my little brother Matthew stood up to get more food.
He walked by TY and literally bent over and farted in TY's mouth.
Then Matthew said, "How do you like that beef stew?"
My family loved it.
TY never had dinner with them again.
I guess the moral of the story is if you don't like someone coming to dinner at your house, just fart in their mouth?
Clearly nothing is sacred in the Barlocker house.
Oh yeah, Matthew was like, 27 years old when he farted in that dude's mouth.
And now you know why my blog isn't littered with fart jokes.
It's too painful.
I wonder if LDS Family Services runs any support groups for this. I could really use the help to overcome these painful memories.
P.S. The beef stew story totally counts as a fart joke.
