I Swear, It’s Not Me


t’s embarrasing when someone thinks you cut a fart… guilty or not. *sigh* Every morning, I find myself rushing to catch up on things. The alarm goes off–or M nudges me to wake up–and it takes me 15 to 20 minutes to get me to stir out of bed. I trudge on over to the computer, turn it on, go take my morning leak as the computer boots up, and then I plop myself at my desk. What day is it today, and what do I have to do? My schedule pops up and it tells me I have class. No shit, I mumble to myself and start to get together the things I need for work… when it suddenly strikes me. Oh shit! I forgot…

  • To make the bungo quiz… or
  • To grade the last stack of papers… or
  • To go over my notes for class… or
  • To make a hand out for today’s lecture… or
  • That there was a meeting today… or

…any number of other things. Everyday it is something. Everyday there is some kind of mini-crisis waiting for me in the recesses of my mind. And my response is to shift gears and go full throttle. After a cup of Joe,

  1. I work on whatever it is I have to work on,
  2. Freak out when the clock tells me I have about an hour left before class,
  3. Jump into the shower,
  4. Change into something appropriate,
  5. Stuff the appropriate things–book, folders, binders–into my backpack and
  6. Rush off to work.

Unfortunately, I’m usually running behind the clock, so even though I live only a seven minute walk from the station, M will give me a ride. I literally make the train with seconds to spare–almost every day, I am embarrassed to say. I step into the train and the door closes before I can even sit down sometimes. Laugh all you want. Make fun of me if you will. Hell, I’d make fun of myself too, if I wasn’t always in a rush. I almost feel like Dagwood Bumstead rushing out of the house every morning, but that’s probably too old a reference for most of you to grasp.

Anyway, today was no different. I sit in the car as M takes me on my two minute ride.

“Tuna sandwich,” I say.


“Tuna sandwich. That’s what you made me for lunch, right?” Yes, I’m a lucky guy. M makes me lunch everyday. Sometimes it’s riceballs, other times a box lunch of stir-fry. But not today. “It smells like a tuna sandwich,” I say pointing to my backpack.

M smiles. “It must be the onions.” Then she starts to giggle. “I smelled the same thing too, but I thought you’d farted.”

“What? You thought the onions you put into a sandwich was a fart?!?”

M bursts out laughing. Indeed, she is beside herself as I was getting out of the car. “Be sure to sit away from others, in an out-of-the-way spot.”

What a loving wife… I wish I’d had a sign that said I was carrying a sandwich with lots of onions in it. Instead, I had to hope that the other passengers could tell the difference between the smell of onions and a fart.

Butt Ring


ow there are rings, and then there are rings. Ear rings. Nose rings. Belly button rings. Even nipple rings. Ouch! Well, I’m not sure how much I should reveal here on Xanga, given that many of my students actually read this–and I’ve recently learned there are some who read it thinking I don’t know it. Well I know it NOW! Regardless, I will tell you that… I have a butt ring. Yes. Really. It doesn’t hurt when I sit down, and I’m reasonably sure that it actually fades after awhile.

You see, I spend a good portion of my time on the toilet.

Well, that’s not really true. I should say that I used to spend a good portion of my life on the porcelain throne. It is a great place to relax and contemplate the issues of the world. What will I wear today? What witty things can I say to my students in class? Can I contribute to world peace?

But I’ve cut back my time considerably since I married M. It is not fun to be the butt of her jokes–no pun intended. She will say something like, “Do you need 45 minutes to read the sports page?” Or, “Don’t you get tired after an hour?” Or, “Maybe we should move the toilet in front of your desk.” Hmmm, now there’s an idea…

So I’ve cut back considerably. 20 minutes was never nearly enough before, but it seems to be enough for me now… or so I thought. I’ve come to think that maybe my time on the can was actually crucial to my well being. I was almost in a meditative state, focusing on my life and what I need to accomplish on any given day. They say meditation is good, right? But ever since I’ve abbreviated this portion of my life, things have not been going so well. So lately, in an attempt to fulfill my resolution for this year, I have been slowly extending my, um, meditation time in the morning.

Yesterday morning was no different. As I did my business, I sat, read a bit, and contemplated my day. After I finished, I was going to take a shower and so did not bother to put on my pants again–I would have had to have taken them off right away anyway. So I turn on the hot water and let it run a bit as I get ready. I step out–bottomless–to get a towel and M starts laughing out loud. I figure, Here comes another crack about how long I was sitting.

But she doesn’t mention it. Instead she giggles, “A butt ring!” Huh? “It wraps right around your butt.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your butt. You must have been sitting a long time.” Here it comes, I think. “Because the indentation circling your butt is really deep.” Oh, now I get it. I guess the few extra pounds I’ve gained has made my butt more susceptible to creasing. And why the hell are you looking at my butt anyway?!?

“And it’s perfectly centered! Do you sit right in the middle?!?” She was beside herself with laughter.

I was tempted to look in the mirror after that comment, but thought better of it. I just laughed with her, confident that this might actually be proof that I had meditated a sufficient length of time. And truth be told, I had a very nice and productive day at work.

So there!