Awkward Situations

I have a dog that has a gastro intestinal problem. I'm pretty sure the fart fairy beat him senseless with its fart stick when he was but a pup so that he may have the gift of smell. 'Cept not in a good way. Sometimes it gets so bad, that we have to evacuate the house for a few hours. Thankfully those moments are few and far between, but they HAVE come about. The problem with the farts is, not only do they smell bad AND linger, but they come in packs. Whenever I hear my dog fart (for they are generally audible and very human like at times), I shoo him away because I have been warned: there are more to come. But this has created a slight problem with my dog. He now thinks that farting means run as quickly as you can away from the area in which you have just farted. This has created many difficult scenarios for me - especially when I have company over.

So I'm left to dig myself out of these situations.

But with friends and family it's not so bad. After a little bit of teasing, the whole thing is forgotten and you can move on. My dog must have realized this, and not only became quite comfortable farting in front of my friends and family, but decided to branch out to see how many people could get a good laugh at my expense out of his farting. I'm not entirely sure what I did to make him want to do this to me, but it must have been something rather horrible.

I take classes online. And every two weeks, I get a call from my mentor to make sure that every thing's going smoothly - which it rarely ever is, but I don't tell him that. So I'm listening to him intently explaining the up coming courses I absolutely MUST take before my term is up, and suddenly my dog becomes very interested in what I am doing with this little black box like thing pressed to my face.

At first I pay him no attention, and continue sitting there listening to my mentor. This was a very, very bad idea. Apparently the lack of attention that I was giving my dog reminded him of something from his puppyhood that he didn't much like, and in the bringing back of these displeasing memories he began to develop a bad stomachache which quickly turned into something nasty.

In the middle of my mentor's sentence, my dog suddenly lets out a rather loud and disturbingly smelly fart that I am 100% certain the poor man heard, but was too polite to say anything about. And out of habit, I got onto the dog and shooed him away. This was also a mistake, for it made him realize I was unhappy with him, making him more upset and wanting to seek my forgiveness.

When my dog is upset or out of his element, he tends to get gassy. Sometimes his farts smell like a sick water buffalo on a hot day. Or worse. When I'm upset with him, he tends to become gassy and neurotic because if he farts he feels he must flee from the spot immediately and seek refuge elsewhere. So not only does he get gassy when he's nervous or upset, but he gives himself a panic attack every time he farts which causes him to fart more. It's a vicious unending cycle until I comfort him or take him outside to relieve himself.

At this point in the conversation with my mentor, I have a very gassy distressed dog who is trying to seek my forgiveness and get my attention to play with him at the same time. And I'm pretty sure he has to pee now.

So he farts again.

This time I KNOW my mentor heard it because he stuttered awkwardly for a moment before continuing on with what he was saying as if nothing happened. I now wanted to hide under a rock. Most people can understand a dog making an awkward sound once and put it out of their minds, because dogs are multi talented like that and are often creating awkward scenarios for their owners to get out of.

But twice? That was too much for anyone to believe. In my embarrassment, I think I started to apologize but suddenly the smell hit me and it was like trying to talk through a mouthful of really smelly bad tasting mush.

Now I was gagging and tearing up, but trying not to make choking sounds or cough at the same time. Meanwhile, I was also trying to make my mentor believe everything was perfectly fine and that my dog had not just spewed noxious clouds of poisonous gas from the lower, less-handsome regions of his body. My head was spinning from lack of oxygen because I was trying to hold my breath and not breath in the undead expulsions of my dog's butt. I was pretty sure I wasn't long for passing out. My dog wasn't making it any easier because he took the strange noises I was making as a game to figure out. He began to dance around me wildly, trying to weave in and out of my legs like a cat, while I tried to flee the room before I died, or my mentor suspected not all was right with my world.

It couldn't possibly get any worse from here could it?

Oh so very wrong.

As I was wading through sea of dog, a cord, still attached to the computer, caught my leg and made me not just stumble but start hopping on one leg while my dog danced around me in glee, and I tried to make my voice sound completely stable and not like my current situation was having a complete and total meltdown.

So then my cell phone rings.

That blasted Ninjaberry Assassin was mocking me, I know it. It had been watching me from where every it was hiding with evil joy at my misfortune dancing in its black heart and couldn't pass up a chance to add to its mirth.

So it began to play a song.

Which song you ask?

Dum Dadi Do by Nightcore.

And it didn't just start anywhere.

It had to start with "When the Morning comes comes, You're dancin' like your dumb dumb, and when the grove is high, The dummies jump to sky."

I don't even remember getting that song on my phone. I think it purposely downloaded it just to make an idiot out of me. That evil-evil-EVIL creature!!!

So there I am hopping around on one foot, my dog doing his own dance of glee around me, I've got one hand holding a phone to my face and the other arm flailing around for balance, and my own personal Ninjaberry Assassin is playing Dum Dadi Do somewhere in the distance.

Nothing could make this any worse.

How many times is a person allowed to be wrong in one day? I'm pretty sure I've surpassed my limit of all time wrongness.  But no, there was more. It was then I realized something about the cord that had tripped me. The one still attached to my computer? It was my headphones. The music wasn't coming from my Ninjaberry Assassin. Oh no. It was coming from my computer.


 

IT WAS A CONSPIRACY!!!! My electronics were out to get me!!!! I was sure that the computer had conspired with the Ninjaberry Assassin to do this to me, but I briefly wondered how many electronics had already been turned to its side. The stove I knew was already on their side for it tried to kill me with a flame thrower several times in the recent past - especially when I was cooking with oil. What else could go wrong during this conversation?

"Is everything alright?" my mentor asked.

Oh crap! In all the confusion of hopping on one leg while my dog danced around me to the tune of Dum Dadi Do and the horrid realization that my Ninjaberry was creating a household appliance army to take me out, I had forgotten my mentor was still on the phone listening to all this.

"Oh, yes! Sorry, I just tripped!" I hastily replied before putting my thumb over the mic so all the noise wouldn't be spilling through the phone like knives spilling out of a drawer and stabbing his eardrum.

Thankfully, I sounded convincing enough for him to continue on his verbal escapade while I was left to regain my balance and send my dog running for the living room where he promptly began to fart again in agony. Yup, he definitely had to pee.

My next foe to face was the computer. It had now moved from Dum Dadi Do to "Get Ready to Die" by Andrew W. K. and I knew I'd be in the battle for my life. Thankfully, the computer was tethered to the wall, so it didn't have the free range capabilities that the Ninjaberry Assassin had and that was very VERY good, but I still had no idea how to take it out. If I got any closer, I'm sure it would have smacked me in the face or tied me up with its cords, and then my mentor would certainly know something was up when I stopped responding to his inquiries.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I ran... for the circuit breaker.

I heard the "Beeeeep!!!" of pain as the power was cut off from the computer of evil (which consequently is the same sound that my surge protector makes when it detects the loss of power), and I knew my plan had worked.

My mentor was none the wiser, and he was wrapping up his speech to boot. Today was a good day. I had taken care of everything in a swift, calm manner, and now nothing was amiss. All my tasks were now complete.