This one stinks!

Out of the list below, there are a lot of interesting titles that I wanted to write about (for instance, about the first kick boxer I met in real life). However, as usual it's the trivialities that win the elections for the virtual space - posters of Grade C movies that provide wholesome entertainment.

The incident in question happened today morning when I was taking the stairs to my office in the first floor along with my colleague of a fairer sex (a very important detail Mr.Watson). So, as we took the stairs, a sharp stench broke through an open door facing wilderness (see, such things happen in Germany too!). So, as usual, the men didn't seem to care while the women twisted their faces, reached for their kerchiefs and covered their noses. Just as we finished climbing, my colleague looked at me and said "I thought it was one of the guys. It's actually some ditch or something. Strange!!". What?????!!!!! What!! Some sewage tank is takin in some fresh air and because of that, the character of able young men is put into question.

Flabbergasted that I was, I asked her what made her think it was one of the guys (I know! I know! I shouldn't have. But curiosity kills Rat(hi)s(h) too!). And, she smiles and non-chalantly says, "you guys do have a habit of farting in public isn't it." That very second the social etiquette of entire menfolk went for a sachin-in-a-sharjah-cup-final six! In a split second, all men around me looked like Neanderthals walking with a club, a flowing beard full of fleas and a couple of frigs around our waist, relieving ourselves in open air and leaving a dead dinosaur behind. If you think I am overexaggerating, I don't think you understand the implications of what I am saying. If in a crowd of thousands in a bustling street, a harmless dog poops in a wrong corner, all the women in the street are going to complain within themselves that the guy (Who probably thinks he's got a good haircut today and stands a chance with the women in question) next to them, transformed his chee-chee to a gas ballon and killed a million microscopic bacteria in the air. And to his misfortune, a tight miniskirt tears around the corner and the sound effects will also be in place - and what do you know! We become a full-fledged methanol industry all because a stupid little dog had the wrong neighbour's bone for dinner.

And imagine this, in one of those weird situations when your stomach makes a noise out of hunger (or other reasons I forgot to remember), there's a good chance that you might be mistaken for "misting" the wind around a little. And you can't even get up and say to everyone, "No, no! it's not what you think. It was just my stomach showing signs" and you think you made your point while people end the sentence as " ... signs of indigestion" within themselves.

Something's gotta be done man - this is a social crusade for the unfairer sex (wonder why no one ever calls us that!). We should probably wear a T-shirt or something that reads "We stand for fresh air!". Actually, that one's too subtle. We might be mistaken for guys who pee under trees and pretend we give it manure. What about, "My closet is also my gas chamber" - No, that wouldn't work either coz some US-visa guy will read half of my t-shirt and refuse my visa on the day of the interview blaming me for wearing Pro-nazi t-shirts!

Now this is a good one - "These trousers are gas proof!" - written from one end of our bottom to the other one. Bold, verdana, 22 font. We will probably draw even a zip right through the middle and hang a lock on the loop right in the center. Much better ... think about, carrying a machine that makes all kinds of noises and play it in busy streets and shout "gotcha!" whenever an old woman gives us this "naughty boy. control your potatos" look! The advantage of the last approach is that in case we actually end up farting (now, who are we kidding! we do end up doing it most of the while!!), after sometime people mistake it for a hoax.

God, so many words on a couple of gaseous hydro-carbons. Come to think of it poetically, it's like the look you have on your face after one amazing night of love making - you look like shit coz you missed all the sleep. But it's a remainder of something so nice, delicious (sic!) and memorable. Just that in this case, it doesn't look like shit - it smells like one :-)

Post script to the whole thing, I am signing my death note - but come to think of it - The human metabolism is the same, and so is the food - Don't you menfolk get a feeling that we are credited for twice the share of gaseous cells than what we deliver while the silent killers (no pun intended!!) are from an unsuspecting character sharing the screen --- think about it :)

Post script 1.2 - I might as well save my life writing about the sophisticated tastes of women that make this place a better place to live (something that I really believe in!!!)