smells like cauliflower and popcorn

I am so glad that you feel comfortable enough to point your buttocks in my general direction, part them, and let one go. Beats a Dutch Oven anyday.

There you go again. Thanks.

"Oh God, smell that? Do you still love me when I stink like that?"

Like I love my crosswords and police reports.

"Have any of your boyfriends ever parted their buttcheeks and farted at you?"

Wanna read my blog?

Sometimes you don't even bother to part your cheeks. You just stop in mid-sentence, turn around, pull your pants down and toot at my face.

Then you cackle. Maniacally.

Must be true love.