I farted during Yoga

I tried to think of a better title but there isn't one. That's what happened and that's the best way to say it.

We were doing boat pose. Now I am only about 1/2 way there on boat pose. I can't let go of my knees. Even though I don't think holding them is doing anything, it is just psychological. So there I was in boat pose thinking about letting go of my knees and TOOT!

It was a serious toot, more like a honk actually. Very gooselike. I had been sniffling all night so for second I hoped everyone would think it was a sound I made with my sinuses. No one said anything. I didn't say anything. I usually don't say excuse me because usually there is no one around. I am a toot in private kind of lady. Or my husband is there but if it just us and someone farts we both immediately say "kitty?".

By virtue of being late Chris and I were separated by two mats, I hoped this meant he was our of earshot because I would never live this down.

So fart thoroughly dismissed we went about the rest of class. I swear to you it was like the instructor dared himself to make it happen again. Every pose we did put pressure on lower stomach. I have expected him to say this is the downward colon evacuater, good for detoxifying and passing gas.

I made it the rest of the class silently, but after class when Chris said, "It was you, wasn't it?" I said yes, and I am going to blog about it.

The Produce Beagle

My husband, Chris if you missed it, is from New Zealand. It is tiny island nation that is sort of like Australia's fat cousin. Everyone can remember Australia and facts about it but no one remembers New Zealand for anything except being close to Australia (and Lord of the Rings).
Since I have been to New Zealand, I think this is sad because it is really one of the most spectacular places I have ever seen.

Today my friend got a call from animal control. Her neighbor complained that her beagle was out of his pen. I am glad someone brought this to her attention. I mean have you seen Snoopy? The dog has a war plane in his dog house. And my friend's beagle? Named Maverick. She is just lucky he hasn't shot anyone.

Anyway, all this talk of beagles made me think of The Produce Beagle. When you come through US Customs or Mexico Customs or most places where they "check you". There is a German Shepard or Doberman who sniffs your luggage and checks for drugs of the illegal kind. New Zealand on the other hand is not concerned with drugs (Hello! The home of bungee jumping and zorbing, stoned people fuel their economy) but with produce. The number one industry in New Zealand is agriculture and the worst thing that could happen to them is for you to bring a rotten apple with some exotic disease into their country. So just like in the states a dog comes and sniffs your luggage but it's a beagle.
I watched him bust a girl with a banana in her purse. He just walked over and stood beside her bag. The agent came up and asked her if she had any produce. She opened her purse and gave the agent a half eaten banana in a ziploc. The agent then took it to the fruit bin. Once she threw it away, the dog who had been so calm got all excited to get his treat for doing a good job. It was too cute. I have found my next career. I want to be the lady who handles the produce Beagle.

Reprised from my travel blog Jen and Chris go to New Zealand which includes the best picture of my husband drunk in a paisley shirt evah!

It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to

So it was just my birthday. I'm 29 (because I know that you wanted to know). My birthday this year was totally lackluster.

1) It was a Tuesday
2) I was depressed (not about my birthday)

Anyway, it got me thinking about my best and worst birthdays.

Worst - 19. Nothing happened. I think my roommate got me a cake at the store but that was it. No going out, no fun time, maybe a present from my mom.

Best - 23. So Hurricane hmm, remember to google this Isabel was going to hit the Virginia Coast and since my best friends parents lived on Long Island (Isabel target #2) she evacuated herself to Knoxville. She always said it would take a Hurricane to get to Knoxville and it did.

Now I don't know how or why we decided I needed to have a monkey themed 23rd birthday party (drink much?) but we did. We printed out lots of pictures of monkeys and posted them up in my apartment. We also bought drink mixers and replaced all the recommended liquors with 99 bananas. That's right 99 bananas IN EVERYTHING! You could have a cosmo-monkey or a slut monkey or a monkeys naval.

I recall a few things about that night. I was quitting smoking because I said I wouldn't smoke past graduation, I recall this caused me to act out. I do know I wore my door wreath on my head at some point. I also bit a guy on the ankle.

See I was getting my MBA and my laptop was out and my friend (a classmate) was on it chatting with another classmate and pretending to be me. I tried to stop him and he put his hand on my head and smooshed me to the floor (yeah, you try to fight someone after you've had 97 of the 99 bananas) and so since I was down there I made a strategic move and bit his ankle. This is the only incident in my adult life that I have bit someone, I am much more of a slapper. Anyway, once you bite someone's ankle there is really no competing with that.


What is your best/worst birthday story?