Wednesday, January 26, 2005


No, this post has nothing to do with Acidman.

As I was zooping through my Bloglines feeds during lunch today, I caught this entertaining post by Mac.
Like a smacked ass, I decided I’d throw caution to the wind and eat a bowl of Kashi Go Lean for breakfast this morning. Bad move. My stomach is making increasingly alarming whining noises that are loud enough to attract attention. I fear the worst.
Those lines, in particular, reminded me of an incident that took place a long time ago...

It seems a couple of my esteemed fellow slaves in the Great Corporate Salt Mine co-workers decided to get married - an office romance that actually turned into something permanent. [“Permanent” is a strong word for any affair of the heart involving Normally Fickle Humans, but this one is still going strong after 20 years. WTG, J.T. and Juanita!] And She Who Must Be Obeyed and I were invited to the wedding.

When we arrived at the church, SWMBO and I took our seats amidst several other of our co-workers, and, at the appointed time, the ceremony got underway.

That’s when I had a major attack of The Dreaded Borborygmi.

For no apparent reason, my stomach started growling. Well, “growling” is not an adequate descriptor. “Squealing like a semi-trailer load of hogs locking up its brakes going downhill at 85 miles per hour” is maybe a little closer to it.

It’s not like it was painful or anything. I had eaten nothing to roil the ol’ kishkes, and in fact I felt just fine. But the noise...the noise! There was absolutely no fucking way everybody in the whole damned church couldn’t hear it.

This is all going on right in the middle of the wedding ceremony, mind you. I took one look at SWMBO, and she looked right back at me, and then the real struggle began: the struggle not to burst out into uncontrollable, hysterical, fall-on-the-floor-and-piss-yourself laughter. How the two of us managed to get through the rest of that wedding ceremony without totally cracking up, I have no clue.

Hah. And they say I have no self-control.

1 comment:

Maven said...

BTW, when my brother and his wife were married, they of course were running late, which caused all aspects of the festivities to be late, and dinner was not served until close to 9 p.m. And like you, at a midpoint during the ceremony, my dad had a borborygmi attack just as you described. Good times.