Wednesday, September 05, 2007

when life stinks...make lemonade?

I had an evening drink with Baze last night, and just because the conversation we had brought back some terrible memories of Std 4, I'll be talking about farting for the duration of this post.

There was a tiny, little, skinny dude in my Std 4 class. His name was something out of a Roald Dahl novel – Sidney Snoof or something like that. He was a usually quiet little fellow who didn't do much, except spit balls of saliva through the back of his pen onto other people's heads.
So mostly, of the times I did see him, he was doing something juvenile and disgusting. Just the sort of stuff I appreciate - when I'm pissed. But I suppose most boys were like that anyhow.

So, the problem with Sidney Snoof (I'm pretty darn certain that was his name. 99.9% recurring certain), was that he was an insatiable baffer.

It didn't happen every day, sometimes it would be weeks, but you always remembered it. When Sidney had a gas explosion, you got the fuck out of the classroom. It smelt like rotten eggs, mulled for extra ferocity, in hydrogen sulphide. He didn't shoot a bunny; he shot nerve gas. He didn't open his lunchbox or cut the cheese; he half killed most of my classmates.

If I was sitting in the front of the classroom, I could smell it from the back.
Trying not to mock charge, someone would ordinarily scream, “Sidney farted everyone! We're all gonna die...,” and people would clamber out, while Sidney would just stand there giggling. In the beginning he always denied it. But not for long, because once that odour hit you face on, there was no forgetting it. Or from whence it came. A Sidney Fart is hopefully something I'll never have to endure again for as long as I live.

I'm sure the teacher even pressed the fire alarm once. What was he eating? What did that kid eat? I mean, hell's bells alive, he was only but the size of a large vase, after all.

Anyway, my point was: I have no point. Or maybe I do. Life stinks right now.

However, despite my financial implications, I'm still rather happy.
Although talking happiness and farting in one post doesn't quite work, I still think it's worth mentioning. It really helps when one aspect of your life is shite, another aspect seems to be going rather nicely.

I also heard from that friend of mine last night. The one who stopped speaking to me when I got together with Mr 747. He finally broke his two month silence and got hold of me - and I am delighted.
I understand why he disappeared, and I'm just awfully glad it wasn't forever. I have missed talking to him. And it was a pleasant surprise to see his name pop up on my Skype last night.


Betenoir said...

when I was in std.1 (as it was known in the olden tymes), there was this guy who sat in front of me who smelled like rancid pee. His stench actually gave me a headache. Urgh. The memory of it even now makes me gag.

tyrone said...

Morning Peas!

Just got up on everything - so sorry to see you're going through kak times. Not nice at all but you're still alive, have all your appendages and you have Mr 747 so things aren't all bad. Besides, what's this money thing anyway? Who cares if you don't have it - just spend it like you do!

:-) No, guess not! But nonetheless, it'll come right. Clearly (from my relatively short experience) you're talented and talented people do ok. Especially when you add energy to that mix - which you have! You'll be fine.

Now about this farting thing. My nephew (whom I do love dearly) has the most God-awful, rottenest, deadliest, putrid-est, farts in the WHOLE DAMN UNIVERSE.

When I was about 16 (very young uncle - he was 7), my mom was dropping my new gf and I off at her house after movies or something. He was in the car. Sitting next to my gf. When he farted. Not just any fart you see.

A whopper.

A nuclear bomb.

A rotten egg the size of a small planet.

Hiroshima had nothing on this thing.

Along with my ego, my nose disintegrated!

My gf, bless her soul, handled it pretty well. Went green at the gills (ala sea-sickness) but didn't say a word until I couldn't hold my wailing in anymore.

He, of course, found it ridiculously funny.

It is the question said...

What is it with kids and smells?

At junior school we had a film room. In the early years we watched real films there - the reel to reel kind. Later videos made their appearance.

But the film room was carpeted and to preserve the life of the cheapest carpet they could have laid, we had to leave our shoes outside and sit inside in our socks.

Imagine. 30 kids of questionable hygiene in their socks. In a small room. With a flat aluminum roof. In 30+ degree heat. The place honed.

That of course paled into comparison to Ricky S. When he should have been older and wiser (like when he was about 16), nothing would give him greater joy than farting during high school assembly after consuming a copious amount of garlic the night before.

We went to a school where you might have survived the punishment for making a noise in assembly, but really it was better just to die.

So we sat still, mock retching, dizzy, faint headed. While Ricky chuckled silently.

Kids. Can't shoot em.


ChewTheCud said...

Why am I not surprised Peas was a back of the classroom girl? ;)

We had a guy, his whole family ate lentils every day. His farts had personality. They would come watch TV with you when he was sleeping on the other side of the house.

thing said...

Haha what a giggle! I sat next to a guy for most of Std 3 who had a broken arm in the middle of Cape Town summer. Oh yes, that thing stank.

I'm so glad that your friend has crawled their ass out of the woodwork :)

Peas on Toast said...

Bete - rancid pee? That's pretty...rancid :(

Tyrone - morgen tyrone! Yip, life isn't all bad. In fact, I'm pretty peachy at the moment all those considering :) Thnaks for your kind words. Hiroshima had nothing on this thing? Wahahahaha!

IITQ - Kids, can't shoot 'em. Yet they're shooting shit left right and centre. Look at America. You can smell it from here :)

Chews - lentils. Oh my God. That could very well be worse than a carton of free-range eggs...

Thing - eeew - gangrene smell? May I never never smell that. Ever :)

Revolving Credit said...

I recall a day in primary school when the smell just got way too much. The teacher had us all line up started checking everyone's doondies.

Well, halfway down the line, she encounters some kid called Nelson and discovers that he has Shart (Shit/Fart) his pants.
He obviously tried a bit too hard to squeeze one out and got a lot more than he bargained for.

Instead of excusing himself from the class and attempting to remedy/clean/hide/mask the situation, he just sat there, stuck in his own quagmire, so to speak.

Peas on Toast said...

Rev - oh my god, that is unbelievable. Wonder if he's still traumatised? Having the teacher check his doondies - blind one. :)

Revolving Credit said...

Brave fucking teacher if you ask me.
At that age you don't know what you'll find in the back of a kids underwear besides a name tag.

Ant farm? Spare sandwich? Pet frog?

Peas on Toast said...

Or maybe you won't even find a lable, because it's in the inside of his pants.
You know, he didn't bother to throw them in the laundry basket...but just turned them inside out. I knew grown dudes who have done this. Siff really.

Revolving Credit said...

So what you hiding in your doondies??

Let me guess - a tequila tot-pack and a spliff!!

Peas on Toast said...

Rev - well at this very moment, an ass that smells like a buncha roses, boet ;)

Revolving Credit said...

You're using your bum as a vase??

OK, go lay on the coffee table!

Peas on Toast said...

I would...but what for really? So that the neighbours can see my petals?

Revolving Credit said...

Don't leave the windows and curtains open. Some bee with a bigger stinger may try to come and pollinate your flower!

SheBee said...

My skanky gran always used to say:

'what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger'.

Wise words, however she was also overheard to have said:

'to get over one man, get underneath another'

Not such great advice to give your 16yr old grand daughter, somehow...

Revolving Credit said...

So apparently sticking thorny roses in your ass makes you stronger!

Who'd have guessed.

SheBee said...

Lol, Rev:

Bite me.

Peas on Toast said...

SheBee -your granny sounds like a peach! She's probably right though.

But I'm not sticking thorns in my butt cheeks. Sorry chaps.

Revolving Credit said...

So Peas, when you gonna be getting under some man???

Peas on Toast said...

It's tough to tell really. Could be weeks, could be months.

Could be right this very second. Could've been five minutes ago.

(Choose any of the above. Hint: The last option isn't a promising choice.)

Revolving Credit said...

I think you'd have know if it already happened, you'd be fulling thorns out your ass!

SheBee said...

U been doing it in a rose bush, then Peas?

Interesting choice of love venue... to each his own, I suppose ;)

Peas on Toast said...

Wha-eva chaps :)

Anonymous said...

Peas What has happened to KykNoord?

Peas on Toast said...

Anon - I've also been worried about him. He hasn't updated in weeks. :(

Anonymous said...

hi really dont have to answer this but why did your mate stop speaking to when you hooked up with Mr 747?

Peas on Toast said...

Anon - I can't answer this in detail here I'm afraid, out of respect for him. But it had to do with feelings.