One, two, three, four, listen to my bum roar

If, like me, you happen to act your shoe size rather than your age, then this may well be the best web page you will ever encounter in your entire life.

Thanks to this web page, I now know (and can share this knowledge at future dinner parties) the following:

• The crinoid's anus is located next to its mouth.
• You can buy special underwear which soaks up the odour from your farts. (Though I would not want to be there when the underwear is taken off at the end of the day. And the underwear would probably break your washing machine, too.)
• The animal with the highest worldwide output of flatus is the termite. Termite fart is actually a major contributor to global warming.
• Cows burp more than they fart.
• The great early 20th Century French flatulist, Le Petomane, was able to suck a bowlful of water up his bumhole and then expel it again. So a bowlful became a bowelful.
• Theoretically, if you were able to fart in space while naked, the fart would propel you forwards.
• If you went out naked into the cold and farted, you'd be able to see the fart like you can see your breath.

...And many more interesting facts about farts.

Give it a read. It's better than Harry Potter, anyway.

So WTF

I thought it's about time I write something, after an unexplained week-and-a-half hiatus. I could come up with some fantastic excuse about my house getting burgled, my car being driven off a cliff, and me getting flung off a moving rollercoaster 50 feet in the air and breaking every bone in my body, and though you might suspect I'm telling porkies, you would never really know. But I'm too honest to do that. I have "excessive honesty" reserved for future job interviews, when they ask me what my weaknesses are.

"I am too honest," I plan on saying, like the little goody-two-shoes that I am. "I cannot lie and I will never cheat, which means sometimes I don't always get what I want. I would rather make a fool of myself than be dishonest." And it's true. I once got 0% in a Spanish test at school, when I could have easily cheated. But whatever: c'est la vie. (Oh poop, that's French. No wonder I failed Spanish.)

My house did not get burgled. My car was not driven off a cliff. (I don't even have a car; the last time I had a car was back in 2008, which strangely happened to be the thought I woke up with this morning, causing instant panic to set in... What if I've forgotten how to drive?) I have not been flung off any rollercoasters, and if I had, I would be suing right now, rather than updating my blog. Or perhaps eating my food through a straw. My excuse for not writing? I had no thoughts.

Alright, yeah, of course I had thoughts, but unless people wanna hear about my driving anxieties, I figured there was no point in sharing them. I only choose to share now out of obligation, thus why this is turning into a very rambly post with little to no direction.

Crap. I believe this is somewhat similar to farting at a posh dinner party. Long, awkward silences... Not knowing where to look... One person sitting in the corner styling a laugh into a cough.

*Tumbleweed floats past*

(What a tumbleweed would be doing at a posh dinner party, I have no idea. Do people have dinner parties in the desert?)