Judgement Day (a.k.a. Panel of Judges 2).

Often times they say that you should not judge a book by its cover.  I think more realistically it should be that you should not always judge a book by its cover, but that sometimes it is ok, especially when it has a buff pirate on it and you can see his nipples.  You know what that book is going to be about.  Who holds a sword like that?  Come on.  Anyways, this can also sometimes be true of people (see: Panel of Judges).  But the ridiculous clichés like “You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes” as I previously discussed, or something equally absurd like “You can tell a lot about a person by the company that they keep”, you will find, are not accurate barometers of personality and character.  Like I discussed when I dissected the shoe argument, there are probably cases where the latter argument could still ring true.  

When someone hangs around a bunch of snobs, it can sometimes be safe to say they probably are themselves rather snobby.  However, just because someone lives within a society of mountain gorillas, it does not mean that they, in fact, are a mountain gorilla.  Maybe they don’t even like mountain gorillas, maybe they spend most of their time talking about the king and queen gorillas behind their backs to the plantains.  You don’t know.

Anyways, if 'shoes' and/or 'company kept' are off the table, but you still would like to effectively try and judge a book by its cover, then here are a few accurate ways to gauge someone’s personality, just by observing some random thing about them.

You can tell a lot about a person by…

the number of cats that they have.

I’m still working on the algorithm a little, as well as the graphs and flow chats and whatnot, but essentially depending on the number of cats, this is what you are saying to the world:

1 Cat: “I love my cat, cats are awesome.”

2 Cats: “I love ALL cats, I’m a cat person.”

3 Cats: “I love my cats, probably a little more than I like people.”

4 Cats: “Sparky and Mittens are my babies and they will never leave me, not like my lousy kids.”

5 Cats: “Last week I knit myself seventeen Christmas sweaters, all with cats on them. My cats.”

6 Cats: “The local kids say my house is haunted.  It is.”

7 Cats: “I speak cat… MEOoooooW Rehhhrr!”

8 Cats: “The urine that you smell is mostly feline, but also mine, mostly.”

9+ Cats: “SHMARGLE GLUB! Darrrrrr, Gabaraga WEE dee fwaaa? Hahahaaaaaaaa…”

It also says a lot about a person if they claim that they are striving to become the crazy cat lady / man / hermit / wildebeest.  Mostly it says 'stay away' or 'keep away from children'.

Increase in cats, increase in crazy, which, if you have a cat, makes total sense.  

You can tell a lot about a person by…

the size of their pit stains.

You can tell if they are nervous, have recently exerted themselves, or whether or not they are wearing antiperspirant.  Depending on how far down and widespread the stain is, you can tell how long they have been feeling anxious, warm or physically strained.

There’s a scene in ‘Superman 3’ (or maybe it was number four, there’s no way for me to remember, really) where Superman is lifting an enormous ice block or person or something and has atrociously large pit stains all down the sides of his best blue tights.  I’m not sure that Superman actually would sweat, and especially not when he is somewhere in Antarctica like he was in this particular scene.  What this tells us is that this ‘actor’ is not actually Superman.  Now the fourth wall is broken and I’m back to reality.  Thanks a lot, Hollywood.  Next you’ll tell me that the mall Santa Claus is not the real Santa.  Well, then how did he know I wanted a pony? How did he know?

More importantly than all of that, if someone is wearing a light gray shirt on a hot humid day, so that it clearly accentuates and highlights the tremendous pit stains, you can tell that they do not have much in the way of foresight.

But seriously, how was I supposed to know the office would be this warm today?

You can tell a lot about a person by…

whether or not they plug their nose when they jump into a pool.

People that do this may as well be wearing one of those bathing cap bonnets like in those old synchronized swimming videos (with the rubbery flowers and the metal snap button strap across the chin).  No matter a person’s age, when you see them doing this, they immediately look about four years old.  For the record, at four, I already did not plug my nose.  I already knew that I did not want to look like a weenie (see: Weenie Roast). Get your shit together!  One thing you can tell about these people is that they clearly are not comfortable in the water, and they’ll be the first to go when the whole world floods.  

Hopefully when it does happen, it will be less like ‘Waterworld’, and more like ‘The Little Mermaid’, what with the musical numbers and magically delicious crabs.  Seriously, Sebastien would make a sweet crab roll.  Hot buttered soul.

Either way, the nose-pluggers are fish food.

Well, that, along with my previously stated guidelines (see: Panel of Judges), ought to get you started along a path of judging books by their covers, only when it is completely acceptable to do so.  Or not.  You be the judge.

That’s it.  I’m going home sick, these are gargantuan pit stains.

Please Put Your Hands Together.

There is a select group of visionaries in this universe that were born with the gift of making fart noises with their hands.  They are called the Windbreakers.  Being one of the chosen few, I recognize my power and respect the responsibilities that come along with it.  A lot of folks assume that all it takes is sweaty palms and a little determination.  This may be true of armpit, under the knee, or mouth to hand fart noises, but does not apply to the Hand Fart.  The Hand Fart is a whole other beast.  While wet palms can give birth to a wider array of flatulent sounds, it is the shape and size of the palm that seem to create this innate ability.  You either have it, or you don’t.  It’s like being able to wiggle your ears, or fold your tongue in half.  I’m pretty sure they talked about in Biology class.

If you are among the Windbreakers, you mustn’t just produce Hand Farts whenever you please, all Willy Nilly and shit.  Certain situations call for them, and others do not.  It is important to know when it is your duty to step up to the plate, and when you should just let the pitch go by, no matter how tempting it may be to squeeze one out.  Allow me to help.  Even if you are not a card carrying member of the Windbreakers (I am in the process of having physical cards made), you may continue reading, to better educate yourself on exactly what it means to be able to make fart noises with your hands, and what it takes to be a part of this elite group of sound effect champions.

The following are some examples of moments when a Windbreaker is required to produce a noise.  From it, you may extrapolate a much longer list of vital situations in which they are destined to fulfill their duties.

- In class whenever the teacher bends over

- In church whenever the priest coughs

- During any tense and suspenseful silent scene in any film

- Whenever there is a pause in a conference call

- When you can’t sleep

- The moment that a good idea pops into your head (unless the good idea is to make a fart noise, at which point, just one will suffice)

- When your spouse leaves the bed in the middle of the night to pee and/or poo

- When the doorbell rings, after you stand up and say, “I’ll get it”

- While actually farting (covers up the noise, however, does nothing for the smell)

- When a woman in a bikini jumps off of a diving board

- After saying goodnight to a houseguest

- When passing by an aerobics class (lean into the classroom for better reverb)

- On a ski lift, when people ski under you

- When an elderly person opens a refrigerator

- When someone tells a racist joke at a dinner party, during the awkward silence

- As soon as someone stops tap-dancing or clogging

- Anytime after January that someone wishes you a Happy New Year

You get the idea.

There are some other important things to remember.  At times a Hand Fart is considered inappropriate or dangerous.  Please remember the following, taken from the Code of the Windbeaker.

- Never Hand Fart and drive

- Never Hand Fart at a funeral (unless it’s in a church and the priest coughs)

- Never interrupt your spouse with a Hand Fart

- Never use a lubricant to increase your Hand Fart range and volume

- Never attempt to create music with Hand Farts

- Never Hand Fart at the dinner table (unless an elderly person opens the refrigerator)

- Never Hand Fart if you are supposed to be holding the ladder steady

- Never use a Hand Fart to try and break-up a crowd or line-up

- Never try and teach someone how to Hand Fart

You can’t teach awesome like that, and don't be fooled by anyone who tries.

I am sure that I missed some important examples, rules, regulations and situations, but you now understand the basics.  One final piece of advice: if you or someone you know has been Hand Farting uncontrollably in their sleep, seek medical attention immediately.  Treatment may involve wool mitts, handcuffs, or in the worst cases, amputation.

That's it. My boss is bending over to pick up a pencil.

Panel of Judges.

Probably, you care what people think of you. Probably you care too much. While it is true that first impressions can be important, relying on them too much is kind of a cop out. Lazy people too lazy to bother getting to know someone properly will rely on first impressions to write people off, and thus, judging a book by its cover. For instance, they say that you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their shoes. But I don’t know how accurate this would really ever be. Like if a person is wearing plastic bags, you will think that maybe they’re homeless, but I’ve gone to university classes or grocery stores wearing crusty old slippers, or duct taped holey shoes, and I’m pretty sure that I had a home at the time. It’s not like there are specific shoes that go with different jobs either, like police shoes, or janitor shoes, or taxidermist shoes. Except for clowns, they have their own shoes. Speaking of clown shoes, they’re also a good example that shoe size doesn’t always reflect foot size, so you can’t count on that assumption either. What about those goofy looking morons who walk around wearing those super pointy dress shoes? Surely their feet don’t actually come to a sharp knife-like sheik style curly conclusion like that? Hence, shoe shape does not equal foot shape.

And forget about thinking that you can tell where they’re coming from, or where they’re going, based on their shoes, and all that Forrest Gumpshit stuff, because if you see someone wearing soccer cleats, you might assume they’re playing soccer soon, but now your guard is down, and maybe they’re actually about to kick you in the nuts. Look out! I guess getting kicked in the nuts by a steel-toe shoe would be the most painful. Clogs or even elf shoes would be quite painful as well due to their shape, and also would be tremendously humiliating. You’d sure feel like a loser if and when they’d start dancing around you, as you lay on the floor, in the foetal position. A clown kick in the balls, with the squeaky shoes, would probably be the most embarrassing and humiliating of all, though, you know, because it would squeak once or twice upon testicular connection. Also, it’s usually a pretty wide shoe, and would probably strike each individual gonad with equal force.

Anyways, if shoes are off the table, but you still would like to effectively try and judge a book by its cover, then here are a few accurate ways to gauge someone’s personality, just by observing some random thing about them.

You can tell a lot about a person by…
how drunk they currently are.

This completely depends on context too, but is mostly self explanatory. If you see someone dancing around with their shirt off, at the office, on their desk, while simultaneously peeing themselves, slurring their speech, holding a whiskey bottle, and talking about how the government stole their best pair of bowling shoes, and you’ve seen this happens three times this week, then you can safely say that they have a problem. You might also wonder why they still have their job. What’s your company’s problem? That does look like fun though, doesn’t it? If they can get away with it, then why can’t you? Now you join them. Now you have a problem too. Oh no! You barfed on the floor. Oh well, that’s the janitor’s problem. What are you looking at? What’s your problem, man?

“That's mister Vice President to you. Pack up your things, you’re both fired.”
“No problem! I hated this job anyways.”

Unemployment is a huge problem.

You can tell a lot about a person by…
which finger they use to pick their nose in public.

Be careful picking in public. You’re giving away hints about who you are. Some of you might find it wrong to pick in public altogether. Well, you are considered to be snobs. You can generally be spotted by your huge nose, turned up at the rest of the world, completely full of snots which are entirely visible from the outside. You won’t clean house, and we can all tell. You know when someone has one just barely hanging on to the outer rim of their nostril, swaying with the wind of each exhale, and you just want to yell at them to take care of it? Well I like to throw one of those little tissue packs at them. It’s well worth the dollar. If you’re more normal, and you realize that there is an urgent need to empty out after a long day of breathing in crusty air, but still care what other people think, then you will likely first attempt the thumb pick. This tells the rest of us that you don’t want to offend us with visible boogers or whistling nostrils, but also don’t want to make it too obvious and gross us out. Now that’s class. Unfortunately, due to its larger size and awkward positioning, you often can’t get anything meaningful with the thumb. Sometimes you’ll even be cursing yourself for having clipped your nails the night before.

“Curses! If I only had yesterday’s superior longer thumb nail I could have gotten this thing out by now. Why did I clip!?!”

Usually you just work at it a bit and loosen it up for your next line of defense, the index. You gain much more reach with the index. You should, however, be careful not to start digging when anyone is looking directly at you. You can still hide most of the nostril with the thumb, in case someone glances your way, but for the initial penetration, you should make sure the coast is clear. Remember, the key word here is class. If you successfully pluck one out of the nose, you might have to move up to the middle and ring finger, but only to roll it into a flickable morsel, not to dig. Be sure to only ever flick it onto the floor or a small child. Never use the smear technique, unless you can smear it onto a tissue, or else you risk smearing your reputation if someone spots it. Also, it is important to notice that the middle finger and ring finger never entered the nostril. The index and thumb are the only ones that should penetrate the nostril in public.

If you’re caught using the pinky to pick in public, then it tells the rest of the world that you’ve completely given up on yourself, and should be arrested, immediately. There is nothing more disturbing than catching someone in the midst of a full-on backhanded pinky dig, with the elbow raised in the air, and making that nose pick face like they’re trying to pull their eyeball out through their nostril, eyes watering ever so slightly. You obviously mustn’t care what the rest of us think of you, or that we’re scared you might start bleeding if you dig any harder. And don’t think that wrapping a tissue around the pinky somehow excuses you. It’s still revolting to see, especially since we know you’ll end up examining your findings after the gold dig is over. The same goes for rolling up a tissue and using it like a soft sixth finger. That's bullshit.

Remember, if you see a person with a very long pinky nail, sure, they may be a flamenco guitarist, or they may be an honest to goodness coke fiend, but be careful, because they just may be a public pinky picker, and no one wants to see that. Look away! Jeepers creepers, get a room.

You can tell a lot about a person by…
their breath.

You can tell what kind of food they’ve been eating, if they’re a smoker, if they’re drunk, if they’ve recently had a genital in their mouth, if they’re dehydrated, if they’re sick, if they’re all minty fresh, what kind of gum they like, if they’ve had too much coffee today, too much tea, if they forgot to brush their teeth, remembered to brush their teeth, if they’ve recently napped, or any number of other smelly giveaways.

Most importantly, if you are able to detect such subtleties in their breath and can even clearly see the texture of the shit caught in their teeth and of their gums, then this means that the person is definitely a close-talker. This, in turn, means that they are one of the worst people to talk to ever, and are potentially psychologically damaged. Careful, they're grabbing your arm to pull you in closer!

You can tell a lot about a person by…
whether they wipe their ass sitting down or standing up.

You may or may not have realized, but there are indeed two popular methods utilized for wiping in the modern day afterpoop routine. The timid people, more reserved and prudish, tend to remain seated, possibly in an attempt to conceal the fruits of their labour. I’m no scientician or psycho-analysisser, but that sounded totally legit. The standing people, on the other hand, are proud and fearless. They like to properly examine their output before extinguishing the smelly fire. They check for inconsistencies and take mental pictures to remember length and girth, and compare with previous efforts. Some people claim to be somewhere in between, but these people are indecisive, and that to me, screams of sitters. Standers are sure of themselves, and proud to be standers. The sitters of the world are sneaky, untrustworthy types.

That’s why I believe that the automatically flushing toilets were conceived by politician-sitters to try and convert the proud standing people of the world into more passive sitters. Now, for the standers, on these auto toilets, wiping has become a race against the auto clock. If you miss that first round flush, your autographed paper is still sitting in the bowl, un-flushed and exposed, alone. Now you have to sit back down, not knowing how long you need to wait until you can get back up and make it flush again. It hardly seems fair. Those damn sitters probably wipe, and then walk away and never look back. Well, probably they pull up their pants first. But I bet they don’t even care if it clogs. Not the standers. They are considerate, they stand, they watch, and they make sure everything goes down smooth. They also pull up their pants before walking away though. Some sources have told me that most automatic toilets have an override button, but I think that’s bullshit. I haven’t ever seen one. That sounds to me like a rumour started by sitters to try and keep the standers from rioting.

“There must be a button here somewhere… I guess I just don’t see it…”
“Haw haw haw, those fools. There’s no button! Yes… Sit back down! Good…Sit...”

While we’re on the subject, the courtesy flush becomes a little awkward, for both sitters and standers, with the automatic toilet, doesn't it? Because, either you have to get up and walk away a little, even though you know you might have another round coming, or you have to lean forward far enough that the toilet thinks you’re no longer there. The problem with leaning really far forward is that you’re bent over far enough that someone outside the stall can now see your head. Now they know it’s you, and that you were in the midst of such a dirty experience, that you required a courtesy flush.

Now that I think about it, I suppose that in a public bathroom, you could tell a lot about someone by their shoes though, by looking at the shoes in the stall, and then later recognizing them walking around in the workplace, or school, or street, or wherever.

“Hey, I know those shoes. Second floor bathroom lunchtime diarrhea guy, right?”
“STOP JUDGING ME!”

Here’s a question. When a sitter is at home and runs out of toilet paper, and the cabinet is empty, and then they have to leave the bathroom to go get some more elsewhere in the home, do they stay in the seated position the whole time? These are the kinds of questions I ask myself, when I probably should be doing my job instead.

You may be wondering how you would even find out if someone is a sitter or a stander, especially when we are talking about first impressions, and you just don’t recognize their shoes from any previous bathroom visit. Well, that’s easy. Follow them to the can and wait. Duuhh. Or just ask them.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Wallace.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Alfred… say, do you wipe your ass standing up or sitting down. I just want to get to know a bit more about who the real you is.”

You’ll make a lasting impression. That’s what all of this was about anyways, wasn’t it? I guess it wasn’t about that at all. Oh yeah: Learning to not judge a book by its cover, except for certain cases where you should. Never judge a book based on its shoes, or else you might get kicked in the nuts. Unless you saw those shoes in a bathroom stall, and can then assume a certain level of knowledge regarding the frequency and style of their bowel movements. Also if the book has swords and dragons and dwarves and shit, then it could potentially be a really lame read. These are all just very loose guidelines. Now, go use the power of observation! I’m sure I’ll think of some more ways to judge the covers of books later. I’ll be sure to let you know.

That’s it. I need to go out to buy some shiny new shoes and books.

Sidewalkin'.

Travelling by foot on a sidewalk, in general, should be simple. Left foot, right foot, repeat. Sadly, often times getting from point A to point B, both quickly and efficiently, becomes an exercise in futility coated with pure frustration as you end up dealing with varying obstacles, which can include some of the most annoying people in the universal history of all peoples. I’ll go through a brief list of obstacles you may encounter, and how best to deal with them.

The most common encumbrance is that person that you’re heading straight towards, face to face. You know, and then you both try and dodge each other, but end up manoeuvring towards the same side, and then you both go back the other way, and then back again, and part of you is worried that maybe a kiss might happen, but then that excites you maybe just a little, and you feel like you’re dancing or some shit? Apparently the reason that this happens sometimes is that some peoples’ brains are wired so that they instinctively go left to dodge someone, or something, and some people go right. The times when you do a little dance (and perhaps make a little love) is when you face someone wired the opposite of you. It’s true I took a sociology class once and, during the one class that I went to, they said something in that general ballpark’s vicinity. The worst case is when you both end up coming to a complete stop. Has it ever happened that after the stop, when you try to resume, you end up both going the same way again?

“Whoa geez, huh, whoops, oh well, oops, sorry, ha ha wait again?, ok just…, my bad?”

And why is everyone always so angry and annoyed at the other person? It’s just as much your own damn fault for moving in the opposite direction as the other guy. I know, you think, "everyone should dodge the same way as me". But that’s being a little egocentric, no? Granted sometimes both of you end up laughing about it. And it becomes a grand story to tell.

“And then I went one way, and they went… that’s right, the same way as I did.”

Applause.

I wonder if any love stories started that way. Seems to me that in cruddy movies that could happen. They bumped into each other because they were in a rush, and neither of them tried dodging the other, and then they hated each other. But guess what? Ninety minutes later they make babies or something. Here’s the solution to all of this (well, not the cruddy movies, those will still get made), just jump over them. Simple, quick and efficient, like Sonic the Hedgehog. If they also jump, it risks being a painful game of face to face leap-frog gone wrong, but at least it will be a good story to tell for the other people on the sidewalk.

“Remember when those two people bounced into each other? Dat shit was old-school, like the Mario Brothers n'shit.”

Another frequent occurrence is being behind the group of people in a solid straight line, taking up the whole sidewalk width wise, walking super slowly and chatting away. It’s like that scene in Reservoir Dogs, but they’re actually moving in slow motion, for reals. Also, instead of witty dialogue, it’s a really awful conversation about whatever they all do for a living together, or whatever. Why is that guy laughing so loud? Fuck, sooooooo slow! It seems like every time you try and go around them, someone is coming from the other direction, or for some reason, the sidewalk suddenly narrows, or, “look out ahead!” it’s a mailbox, or lamppost, or fire hydrant, or street sign, or open sewer, or phone, or tree, or metal grate with an opening full of dirt where there used to be a tree.

Unless you have a “go around them by walking directly on the road or grass” option (be careful for traffic and/or snakes!), often times your best option is to try and break through the middle of the line-up. I find that turning slightly sideways sometimes helps, unless you are wider when turned sideways. In this case, stay normal. Sometimes if I’m coming up behind a group like this, I will yell “scatter” really loud. They often don’t actually scatter, but they will usually stop in shock, and I can easily get through them. Remember, if at some point you look around and realize that you are part of a group like this, do the mature thing, and tell everyone to line-up single file and to wait until you’re at your destination to have a little chitty chat.

Annoying couples that refuse to walk fast or disconnect hands are the kind of the dumps too. Please don’t make the mistake of thinking that this is every couple, it’s not. When my wife and I walk, we’re an efficient walking machine. We dodge, we manoeuvre, and we walk really fast, together. We’re actually going somewhere, as a team. We take cues from one another and follow each other’s leads. Sure, we hold hands a lot, but we’re always quick to detach if it’s clear that we are about to clothesline someone. On a big sidewalk, these clingy coupley types are usually not a big problem. They move slowly, and shouldn’t take up too much space, so they are easy to get around. In the case of a smaller sidewalk where you absolutely need to break through, just treat it like a game of Red Rover.

“Red Rover Red Rover, what’s that? You done called me over? Aw, hot diggity dawg, Charrrrrrrge!”

Always look menacing and scream like a pirate (apparently). It increases your chances of breaking the chains of love. The only couple worse than the non stop hand holding walkers are the ass holding walkers (extra demerits if the hands are actually down the back of the pants). If you are a part of an ass holding couple, please break up, then wash your hands.

Winter makes every sidewalk a smaller sidewalk. The snow clearage is often only done for half of the sidewalk, so one half clear, and the other half becomes a little snow hill or fort. You also end up with this little tunnel that has next to no manoeuvrability. It’s the walking equivalent of being on those two-way highways behind an old person driving a huge fuckin' Buick. You have this long line-up of people behind some slow ass, and in the odd chance there’s a window of opportunity to pass, only a couple people manage to get by at a time. Here’s a solution: Wear snow pants and walk in the god damn snow. Whistle the tune of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” if that helps at all. Every walk will feel like an adventure. Have a compass and walking stick in case you get lost. Also you can throw snowballs at the people stuck in the sidewalk-snow-tunnel. You’ll be from an elevated position, giving you the advantage, like Ed Harris taught us in ‘The Rock’.

“I just... I just wanna find some rockets!” said Nicolas Cage to James Bond.

Winter also offers icy sidewalks, which can be real time-murderers. You have to take those little elf steps! Long strides on ice lead to wipe-outs. Usually half way into the winter you’ll start worrying that, come spring, you might actually have forgotten how big your normal steps are. Don’t fret. You’ll always end up remembering.

Jaywalking is also an important tool that you need to master to gain an advantage on most pedestrians. If you always wait for the little flashing man to tell you to walk, you’ll end up walking inside of big crowds after every traffic light, struggling to break free from the pack. If you are in Montreal, make sure that there are no MUC Police peoples around, as they occasionally give tickets for jaywalking. I’ve also heard horror stories of certain countries where jaywalkers could even serve time in jail, not just receive a fine. So, jaywalk responsibly, and don’t get hit by a car. Getting hit by a car can seriously throw off your overall pace.

And how about those sudden stoppers? You know those people walking in front of you in the middle of the sidewalk that just suddenly stop? These are the same people that stop at the top of escalators or right after walking through a door. Are they so lonely that they crave the crotch to butt rubbing from a complete stranger? They’re just walking along and something catches their attention?

“Oh gee, look in that window! I guess I’ll just stop in the middle here and check it out. Say Alfie, did something just run into my ass?”

I’ve found that shoving is the only solution. Don’t worry if they’re elderly or a child. Those groups usually fall easier. Add in a real loud “HEY!” with the shove. Surprise is your friend.

The only thing I hate more than the sudden stoppers are the walking readers. Sometimes it’s not just books. I’ve seen people with huge open newspapers. Scream at them to “Look Out!” If this doesn’t get them looking up from their book or whatever, then trip them with a casual foot sweep. They won’t know what hit them. In fact, throw in walking Gameboyers with this group too. Hell, let’s add the walking Texters as well.

“i cant c u 2day @ lunch :( sum1 tript me g2g hosptial ttyl rofl”

Get it? They’re on the floor rolling and laughing, because I tripped them, win-win. You could always try relaxing, taking it easy, slowing down and not being in such a rush. But where is that going to get you? Well, I guess it would get you to the same place, just not as fast.

That’s it. Now, you go walk the walk.

Stranger Danger.

Maybe it’s all the standing around. Maybe it’s that your mind is completely occupied. For whatever reason, browsing in stores often leads to photo finishes in the restrooms. Not the number one, but the sensational deuce. There is usually a period before you get the official knock at the back door, when you feel the need to relieve some internal pressure. Often times you will be browsing in a record store or film store of some kind and things start a-grumblin’ and a-shakin’. It’s at this point that you need to be confident and sure of your own body’s internal language and signals, to know if you can safely unclench a certain amount without risking the sanctity of your best pair of jeans, contaminating the overall atmospheric hygiene of those around you and ruining a floor.

I won’t discuss what transpires after a miscalculation, the calm yet quick retreat to a nearby restroom, the necessity of evidence disposal (down the toilet, in a dumpster or behind a bush), and then living with the shame and the guilt. What I will discuss is what transpires in the event that you correctly interpreted your body’s cues, and you safely unleash hell, without error in judgment.

The way in which you deal with passing gas in a public milieu is important, not only to retain your own image in the immediate public eye, but mostly to ensure the safety of all of those around you. You may take this lightly, or think that no one could or will get hurt. Worst case, people will be offended. And what do you care what a stranger thinks anyways? Well you’re wrong, and that’s how people get killed. Allow me to share a story that best describes the very real dangers of careless “anything goes” style of in-store public gas-passing.

Picture a young man, nineteen or twenty years old or whatever. Overweight and not particularly concerned about what anyone may think of him, he wanders aimlessly at a grocery store on a rainy fall afternoon, dressed in his finest jogging pants, four year old hoodie and colorful winter hat, complete with puffy pom-pom. He is shopping at a small midtown grocery store, the kind with very narrow aisles, and filling his hand-basket with essential items like frozen orange juice, Chef Boyardee, pepperoni sticks and frozen meat pies, “tourtière” to the natives. He eventually finds himself in the cereal aisle holding a box in each hand. He is weighing the pros and cons of each trying to decide which to procure.

Sure, Cinnamon Toast Crunch is sweet, but on the other hand Crispix stays crunchy in milk longer. Then again, he could go with Life, which actually still tastes good when it’s soggy and is sweet as well, as does Corn Bran, but that is less sweet. Hmmm… the decision is not an easy one, and he starts to factor in the prizes found inside, as well as the back-of-the-box games. Then, suddenly, Golden Grahams enter the contest, due to their goldenness.

All of this browsing is increasing the need for releasing. He quickly looks to the left, all clear. He quickly looks to the right, all clear. There is no one in the aisle but him. Let’r Rip! With a thunderous roar, he feels instant shame-free and guilt-free relief as he soothingly exhales in unison with his joyous gaseous explosion. The woman crouched directly behind him, however, with her head resting perfectly at ass level and mere inches away from the mouth of the beast, looking at various coffee products, seemed less relieved, far less joyous.

“Eeeehhhrrrghhaaaaaa…” she faintly groaned, shedding a single tear, likely due to the mixture of gas and horror. From the wind of the blow, or perhaps in an instinctive effort to distance herself from the source, she fell forward, head first into a large tin of Maxwell House coffee. A very distinct ping sound echoed through the aisle as her forehead dented the can. The young man felt this ping reverberate through his entire soul.

“What have I done?” he thought, as he dropped his basket to the floor, stepped over the woman and ran as fast as he could out of the store, unable to face his victim, or bother to try to explain to her that he had eaten many beans and wieners for lunch and convince her just had no control over it, which isn't true. He had control, he just did not properly scan the area. “Is she alive? Is she conscious? Will she be able to give my description to the police? Should I throw away my easily identified hat? Are there severe laws against what I just did? Is it considered as a form of public indecency?” All of these questions raced through his head as he stood in line for two-for-one pizza down the street, simultaneously contemplating if he wanted Hawaiian or All-Dressed.

Something changed in me, err… I mean him, something changed in him that day. Ok fiiiine, it was me. Something changed in me that day. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my eating habits, not yet anyways, that came at a later time in my life. Nay, I decided that that was the last time that I would allow myself to bust ass without first being sure to examine my surroundings and devise a proper Flatulence Concealment Plan.

There are some pointers that I will give you, and that may come in handy someday, as well as some important rules to follow to ensure that no one is hurt, and that, as a bonus, you don’t become regarded as disgusting in your workplace, some other social structure, or by random strangers just hanging around the same place as you. Remember that these are very general guidelines, and may differ from city to city, location to location. They are intended to give you a rough idea of how to execute a safe and successful flatulence plan. When I say successful, I mean that no perfect stranger is forced to inhale your fumes. If you are specifically trying to get someone to breathe in your internal toxicity, likely as part of some variation of the Fart Game, then disregard all of this, as you are looking for a Flatulence Attack Plan, not a Flatulence Concealment Plan. Here we are talking about people you don't know, or barely know. The worst part about strangers’ gas is the unfamiliarity. The smell is so alien, not like anything you or your friends or family would make. Well, if we all change together, and follow these simple rules of engagement, none of us will have to smell strangers’ gas ever again. Isn’t that the kind of world that you would want to live in?

It is important to remember that when dealing with strangers or even minor acquaintances, the “you smelt it you dealt it” defense becomes null and void sometime around puberty. It is no longer the law. The thought process should now read more like the following:

“You smelled it, through simple logic you have deduced that I have definitely dealt it, and now I must retreat in shame as you look at me with fear and disgust in your eyes. I had cheesy scrambled eggs this morning, I’m sorry, fuck. I never meant to hurt you. Please don’t tell anyone of my disgustingness, and please don’t inform the security guards.”

Now, you must also realize that certain areas are entirely off limits. Whether fast food, sit-down style, or a combination of the two (like Pizza Hut), restaurants may not be used as resting places for your pockets of gas. Tooting in crowded areas with little to no movement and poor air circulation is also strictly prohibited. Some examples are indoor lineups, theaters, concerts, sporting events, public transportation (including airplanes), elevators or waiting rooms (doctor, dentist, DMV, wherever). If you absolutely must commit to a release, find the restroom and be discrete.

If you are in the workplace you must also retreat to a restroom every time. Crop-dusting is for chickenshits and nasty assholes, sometimes referred to as nastholes, in my head. Even from within your own cubicle, you must remember that the air travels quickly to the cubicles in your surroundings, and you should never engage in this type of dangerous chemical warfare. If you have your own closed door office, then it’s fine, so long as you have no upcoming meetings, don’t have frequent unsuspected pop-ins and have a candle handy and lit. But don’t let one go too close to the candle, or KABOOooOOM.

In the car, if you are alone, cutting the cheese is acceptable, but only if no one else is getting in for a while. Also, try and find a way to air it out if it still smells before leaving the car parked. Don’t lock it in and let it brew in there for the next driver who comes along. With one or more passengers, it is not advised to fart under any circumstances, even with open windows. Open windows never really help, and they usually only get opened too late in the game, after the smell discovery has been made, the blame has been placed and appetites have been destroyed. Also, never press the lighter thing.

Next, let’s move onto some more flatus-friendly indoor situations and locations. It’s always best to do your homework on the place before hand, since when the urge does strike, you won’t have much time to react. Wherever you may be, you must find the locations that have the least amount of traffic, and the most air circulation. Also be sure that the location has more than one decent exit (no dead ends and also you probably won’t want to stick around too long after you drop the bomb, just long enough that it makes its nest and doesn’t follow you out).

Grocery stores and mega super marts are easy. Don’t drop one in an aisle, ever, or you risk trapping the smell there, or worse hurting someone (as described in the lead-in story above). Unless you are looking to ambush someone, you’re better going into one of those sections that is more open, like a produce or bakery section, or a section with kitchen appliances and shit to ensure the least amount of potential victims of smell. There are also many ways out of there, so you can be sure to get out with the least amount of suspicion heading towards you, if you do end up with any innocent bysmellers. Use caution, as the world’s worst farts can cause fruits and vegetables to quickly rot, plants to dry out and die, baguettes to instantly become stale, plastic to boil and certain kitchen appliances to explode. Also, cutting the cheese near actual cheeses may cause them to spoil.

Don't fart in drugstores or pharmacies. The gasses tamper with the molecular make-up of the drugs and alter the effects and side-effects. They also turn all of the lipsticks and eye make-up brown.

Record stores, libraries or bookstores, movie stores, video game stores or clothes stores, are a bit more challenging. You have to know your place well, and realize which sections are most unpopular. Air circulation is never on your side in these stores, as they are usually quite cramped and claustrophobic. Similar to the aisles in a grocery store, you risk trapping someone in a smelly corner if you haven’t researched well enough. Sometimes you may not have had time to research, or worse yet, misfortune knocks while researching. In this case, here are some helpful hints.

The New Age section in music stores is a safe bet, no one ever browses there. You may end up looking lame for being there at all, but at least you won’t be labeled as gross. If it’s really busy, try the poster section, using the big book-like pages to fan the section out a bit.

At a library or bookstore, head towards the kids section. If any unfortunate souls happen to be around, it can easily be passed off as a child’s dreadful mistake in the pants. Simple, timeless.

For movie stores, head towards the Adult film section. Even if it is crowded, who are they to judge? And who knows? Maybe you will get them to leave and go look at proper movies. They may thank you in the end. You may still be labeled as a pervert initially by other onlookers, but once they see you have not picked up anything to buy or rent, they’ll forgive you and figure you’re just curious. Again, you will avoid the 'gross' label. If there is no Adult section, go with the kids cartoon section, applying the "library/bookstore kids poop their pantsalot" technique.

Video game stores are very tough, as they are crowded in almost every section. Try and head to the PC games, as that section is generally less crowded and there usually is at most only one or two people browsing the "online virtual live another second life other than your own as a flying dwarf dragon or someshit" games. And honestly, they won’t even notice.

Clothes stores are complicated. People travel frequently from section to section, and it’s tough to gauge where it would be safe to make a deposit. Do not under any circumstances think you can utilize the fitting rooms. You will trap the smell in, and when you open the door, it is a dead giveaway. It’s also like a punch in the face to any unfortunate bysmellers walking by. Aim for sections with heavy cotton clothes, such as sweatshirts, jogging pants or jeans, they tend to absorb a large amount of smell. Stay away from polyesters, wools and leathers, they enhance smell. If there is a sale section in the back of the store, with one of those circular racks, then tunnel your way through the clothes into the center of the rack and stay there for a while, and let the surrounding sale clothes act as filters to the outside world as you squeeze one or more out. Don't poot near mirrors, or you risk fogging them up. Never break wind near Windbreakers, the damage will be exponential.

You cannot ever fart inside of anything that can be referred to as a boutique, ever.

Finally, we move to the great outdoors. Now, you may be thinking that most outdoor locations would be open season locations for the flatulent. This is often true, so long as they are not overly crowded, and that there is a certain amount of movement. However, never forget that outdoor lineups, like those for rides at an amusement park, fall in the same category as those indoor lineups described above. The smell may linger for a lesser amount of time, but it will linger nonetheless. Another fun fact about the outdoors is that there is usually wind. The more wind there is, the less likely people are to notice when you break it. But, pay attention to the wind patterns, and be sure that no one is downwind at the time of the break. It is imperative that you remember to not squeakily deflate yourself near a barbecue or near a human smoker. It is a fire hazard. In a hot tub, pool, or sauna of any kind, mystery bubbles are prohibited.

The above rules and regulations pertain to public exposure, but sometimes even in the private sector, like your own home, you should apply some of the same general rules, specifically when you have random guest acquaintances over, especially when at the dinner table. Beware of your bottom’s proximity to guest faces, any food or open flames (like dinner candles or a fondue set). Pay attention to where you are sitting so that you don’t accidentally fart on someone’s sweatshirt or jacket. Finally, if you must retreat to the bathroom to let one rip, be sure that you run the faucet or perform a courtesy flush to hide any potential noise.

I suppose you could try holding it in, in any one of the described situations, but I’m pretty sure most doctors and scientists have proven that this is unhealthy and could cause permanent brain and intestinal damage, according to all sorts of journals that I’ve not read.

That’s it. Have fun, be careful, shop 'til you drop, and be sure to drop it like it’s hot.

WARNING:

The preceding text may contain some cheap and somewhat juvenile potty humour. Maybe this warning should have been at the beginning of the farticle. I apologize.

You Talkin' to Me?

You know the bizarre forced small-talk you have with someone when you run into them on the bus or something? Not some complete stranger, but not a real friend-friend either, just some casual acquaintance who shit his pants at your birthday party years ago, or whatever? This conversation usually sucks, and should be avoided.

You’re on the subway or the bus and you peripherally spot an acquaintance of this type. You have a few different options. Pretending to sleep is popular, but also lacks ambition, and is usually pretty transparent. You also run the risk of actually falling asleep and missing your stop.

A more daring and acrobatic approach is to twist your body and head in such a way that it becomes impossible to look in the assailant’s direction, and then, try to act casual, and as if you always sit that way.

“This is how I always sit, leaning to left and staring at the floor next to my left shoe.”

You can often combine this contortionist technique with looking out the window, but you will potentially look crazy, and often will develop a kink in your neck. Therefore, I would say that burying your face in a book, newspaper, or handheld video game is probably the safest bet. There is no real risk of injury and you’re being entertained at the same time.

Now, regardless of your efforts to avoid eye contact or recognition, sometimes the acquaintance will still recognize you and want to “catch up”. Who wants to catch up anyways? I’m fed up with having to put up with having to listen up when someone I didn’t even keep up with while growing up feels they need to take up my time. It makes me want to throw up. Why can’t they just shut up?

They’re annoyingly tenacious too. Have you ever had someone tap on your shoulder, to try and force you to look at them? First, you fake sleep, but still you feel them getting closer and closer. You see them in your peripheral vision after you fake wake up and bury your face in a book, music full blast. You know that it’s coming. They’re not going to let you avoid them. They’re on the offensive. They’re going to initiate a conversation. Fake sleep, fake wake up, fake read, and, regardless, you’re still going to have to fake talk and fake care. Tap, tap, tap!

“Hey! Hey? Hey! Second grade? Remember?! We played marbles during recess?”

They always open with some nostalgia to somehow try and convince you of how important they were in your life. As if this one memory is supposed to rank in your mind’s Billboard Top 100 memories. Sadly, in the back of your mind, you worry that it might actually be in their Top 5. Everyone played marbles. You played marbles with everyone. Strangely, you don’t remember ever playing with this person. But regardless, you pretend to remember.

“Oh, ha, yeah well, good times. My, you’ve really grown into that moustache… Cindy is it? It’s just so great to see you again. I was sleeping and then reading, but this is way better. Don’t you love when you’ve been at work all day and your breath smells like ass?”

After the ice breaker, there’s always some ultra vague question about your entire life since you last saw this person eighteen years ago.

“So what are you up to now?”

To which you give a generic mechanical response, as if you’re filling in a form for an insurance company, wishing you could give something more like:

“I was up to page seventy-five. I guess I won’t make it to eighty today thanks to you. Happy, pappy?”

This brings me to my next point: ending the conversation abruptly and efficiently, without being rude. With public transit, you can just get off at the next stop. First, though, be sure to ask them quickly if their stop is next. The last thing you want is to exit with them accidentally and then have nowhere to go but stand and talk.

“So where are you getting off?”
“75th and Turd.”
“Oh, yeah? This is my stop, see you around.”

Next stop: elevators.

Elevator conversations are the worst. Even if you’re in the middle of telling some great story, the moment you get on that elevator and those doors seal you in, the conversation just sort of fades. Often times this is because of some other random person's presence, and you feel weird continuing, figuring it would be impossible for them not to eavesdrop. After all, they don't deserve to hear your story, right?

“[…] so then I says to the guy I says… euuuh… I says…” he stops suddenly as he notices in the corner of his eye, next to the glowing lit up button for the tenth floor, the stranger is listening, watching, judging. Silence then prevailed as they all stared at the magically increasing digital number, wishing it would jump directly from number three to their floor, so that they may hear the soothing sound of the bell and be the chosen ones.

Sometimes it’s not even that. Sometimes it just inexplicably stops being a good story as soon as that door slides closed. There must be a scientific reason for it, kind of like animals not mating in captivity. Maybe it's the close proximity of everyone and the sudden inclusion of their smells that makes everything just all too real.

But what I’m more interested in destroying here is that other form of elevator conversation. Not the one that dies mid-flight, but the one that was started during the elevator ride, with some total rando that you usually try and avoid altogether. You have nothing pertinent to say to them, and they don’t have anything to offer you either. Unfortunately, camouflage here is much trickier, because you’re in such close quarters. Stare at your feet, the corner of the elevator, the door, or even the numbers. Just don’t look at anyone. This becomes harder in those mirrored elevators, but can almost always be achieved. Just believe. Don’t worry about looking weird. Everyone is doing the same thing. Everyone is uncomfortable. Have you ever seen the way most people flee out of elevators? They have their nose right up to the door crack as their floor approaches and then as soon as the door starts opening, they sort of exit sideways?

“I’m free!” he thought to himself, as he walked determinedly to the comfort of his sterile grey cubicle. It was private, and he sure liked it that way.

The only people looking all around are the people that want to talk to someone. They look around hoping someone else will accidentally look at them. Then they can reel them in and start right off into their bullshit. It’s so intimate, so close, so disturbing and creepy with that romantic dim lighting. If and when you do get that rare gem of an individual who insists on talking to you, about work, sports or himself, and you’re not getting off at the next floor, change the subject to the weather. Even though experiencing weather is maybe the only thing you do have in common, oddly enough, it still seems to help end pretty much any conversation.

“I’m so swamped. How about you? So how are those reports going? Mine are crazy. Man, its crazy. Man, I’m crazy, right?”
“What? Yeah, sure, man, how about that weather? It’s fucking cold.”
“Yeah, it’s… yeah I can’t believe it. So I –”
“Yep, cold” he abruptly interrupted. He then very comfortably resumed staring at his left hand, as he had been doing prior to that unpleasant vocal interference. He notices that he is just one number away from his escape. A calm washes over him, while in the background, a voice can still be faintly heard, yammering on about global warming.

The worst cases are when you get someone who doesn’t seem to understand that an elevator ride is roughly thirty seconds long, and gets into something that could potentially carry over into your post-elevator life, if you’re both going to the same floor. Now, you’re off the elevator and you’re just praying they're not going in the same direction as you, so that at least during their next pause for air, you can run for the hills.

“Well, I’m going this way. Bye.”

That brings up the other big problem with elevators, you can’t just pretend you need to get off at the next floor. You made your choice at the beginning. They saw. They know. You’re riding all the way to the bottom, and so are they. That’s why when I get on I press all of the buttons, so that I have an exit plan in case I need one.

Next floor: the walking encounter.

On the sidewalk, on the street, in the park, at the mall, you see them in the distance. It’s snubbing time. The walk-by ninja snub is an art form. The key is to look like you still were naturally moving your head around, but that just casually, not ever has your line of sight gone in their general direction. Avoiding eye contact of any kind is always the goal. But, don’t just fixate your head in the opposite direction of them, since this looks robotic and would be a dead give-away. The desired effect of the walk-by ninja snub is to not have to talk to them, but to somehow still have them go home and say:

“Hey honey, I saw Poonis Lagoonis today, but he never saw me. Man, he looked fat.”

Success, you’re a ninja, albeit, apparently a fat ninja.

If your eyes do meet, and you’ve recognized each other, go to your next level of defence. Keep a steady pace but pull out the wave, the salute, the finger gun (only the single gun, never the dreaded double guns, and please, no arm pumping), the hat tip, the wink or the head nod and just keep walking. Do not stop under any circumstances. Chatterboxes will see stopping as an open invitation for the brutally long stop-and-talk. Do not throw in a “how’s it going”, as they often lead to a “bla bla bla, and you?” response, which could be the beginning of a conversation. If you instinctively feel that you absolutely must make some kind of sound, keep it to a single, or double clicking noise made with the mouth. Figure out what combination feels the best for you. Personally I go with a single finger gun / wink combo, with a double clicking noise from the mouth.

If after your mute or semi-mute greeting, they also keep walking, then you’re in the clear. This person is not a stop-and-talker, and probably also wishes that you had not made eye contact in the first place. On the other hand, if they do stop, you’re screwed. You can keep walking, but then you look like an asshole. The point is to be an asshole, but not to look like an asshole, a subtle but important distinction. The stop-and-talk is the toughest conversation to get out of. The only way out is to say that you are running late and have somewhere to be. It’s probably best to have one of these excuses handy every time you step foot outside your home, just in case you have a run-in.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I just took some laxatives.”

Walking really fast all the time helps. This can help back up your “gotta run” story, but also increase your chances of a successful walk-by ninja snub. Speed is your friend.

Only apply these techniques to people you really don’t want to talk to. Sometimes you may wish to welcome small-talk on your daily journey. Once in a blue moon, you may even notice someone you actually wouldn’t mind chatting with, but you're not sure if they saw you, so you go out of your way to approach them. However, while approaching, watch carefully, and if you notice them employing any of the above mentioned techniques, don’t be hurt. Just walk away, and remember, according to the internet and several websites, not just Wikipedia:

“This is the sum of duty; do naught unto others which if done to thee would cause thee pain.” – Mahabharata 5:1517

That’s it. I need to go – I’m running late for a miscellaneous appointment.