The magical fruit..

Only to me, could this happen.

I decided to get a massage. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. So I found a reasonably priced place in Beverly Hills and in I went. First, I must say that I was nervous about the staff. I don't get my nails done anymore, not because of the price, but because I can't understand the women who do nails. I just cannot understand a very thick Asian accent behind a paper mask. Jeez- and then I feel embarrased when the 95 pound woman is asking me what color nail polish I want and I have to make her repeat the question 27 times and eventually I only get what she is saying when she leads me to the rack o'polish and points.

At any rate, I decided that I didn't want to be dealing with a communication issue while being naked in front of a stranger (call me crazy!). So, I went to a place where they had people with no accent doing the massage. GREAT. So, I get all in the buff, under the blanket and Jerry begins the rub down. All is going according to plan. But then, as I begin to relax a little more, I realize. This is not going to be good. I need to fart.

Now, normally, I would just squeeze the cheeks and perhaps do a little crop dusting with the relative comfort of knowing that it won't be heard and if it is orifactally dectable, no one can trace it to me (hence the brillance of the crop dust). But here I am, lying ass up being rubbed down by a complete stranger. Here are my choices:
1. Let her rip and apologize later.
2. Interrupt the massage to tell Jerry I must go potty
3. Hold it in, risking great personal internal injury

Christ- why do these ridiculous things always happen to me? So I decided that I was WAY too vulnerable in all of my nakedness to tell him that I needed to potty, and there was no way that I could let it rip for fear of it being loud enough that the guy in the next room would hear it. And besides, once you have committed to the fart, you can try to leak it out in the hopes of a silent one, but I have noticed that when you don't have a cushioned office chair beneath you, the air biscuits that you try to hold in tend to come out as squeakers. Now, if you think it is hard not to laugh at a normal fart, try not to laugh when it squekes out. And then, of course, because i am all in the buff, I did, for a split second, worry about the possibilities of a fart plus.

so, in the end, I was able to hold it. I wasn't ready to cross that line with Jerry. Apparently some people think that farts are gross, not funny. I, myself, will ALWAYS laugh at a fart, but I guess some people just don't phave a sense of humor. So, I spent 45 minutes of my 60 minute massage trying DESPERATELY not to fart. And thank god I didn't, because when I got into my car and let it rip, it was a window rattler, let me tell you! Ahhhhh, nothing feels quite as good as the release of gas after prolonged imprisionment.