Violets are Blue, Roses are Red, I'm Sorry I Pooted in Your Bed

When people first get together, they have to act like they don't do disgusting things like pass gass, go #2, or pick their nose. Then after about a year, they leave the bathroom door open, hold heads under the covers, and try to launch snot rockets aimed at their partner's face. So I was thinking about this and decided to blog about my first faht in front of Brendan. He always would make these elaborate gourmet dishes that had me in gastric distress for hours afterwards. I had never spent the night with him before. It was after one of his famous meals. We slept peacefully until all of the sudden it sounded like someone started a Harley. "BAROOMROOMROOMROOM!" It was right about the time the war started and I thought we were being attacked. I looked out the window - and then I realized that came out of my ass! I looked at Brendan. He still seemed like he was asleep. I apparently woke the dog up because he was looking at me, head cocked, eyes wide. Back to Brendan: "B?" "Yeah?" crap. woke him up. "I shook the walls, B." He said, "I love you" and fell back asleep. I didn't. I was mortified. I laid awake all night thinking about how to cover it up, praying that he wouldn't remember. I didn't say anything. The next day we went to lunch and the ketchup bottle kept making fart noises. I bought construction papaer and crayons and made a homemade I'm-Sorry-I-Farted card. If that happened now, I would probably high five myself and him and go back to sleep. It's amazing how far I've come.