Tag Archives: fart

6/19/15 The Whoopee Cushion

Last night, my humans left for a short time (well, it seemed like a long time to me) to go play Glow Golf at Space Golf (mini golf).

aliengolf

Mom says it’s loads of corny fun. Not only can one play 3D black light golf, but the facility boasts a pizza kitchen, freshly-scooped ice cream, and an arcade. Not a super huge arcade, but a token-gobbling, skeeball-throwing, air hockey playing, little arcade. The humans had enormous fun, and won 200 tickets.

Dad gave all the tickets to Jamie, who promptly cashed them in for a Whoopee Cushion.

Normally, this wouldn’t turn a hair on my hide, except for the fact that Jamie has been sneakily hiding this Whoopee Cushion under the couch and love seat, as well as my chair, so that when I try to lie down, a loud farting noise ensues. It’s bad enough the humans blame their stinky gas on me, but now I have a whole orchestra of fart noises following me around to make me look like I really am the guilty culprit!

Jump! Onto couch. Fart! Goes the cushion. I gave Mom my most pathetic look, while trying to explain that, “I didn’t cut the cheese”. Mom laughed, but I didn’t think it was funny at all:

whoopee

For the record, girls don’t “fart”, they “fluff”. Hmph. I wonder where Jamie will strike next – ??

Love, Your-friend-who-is-not-the-gassy-one, Maggie

1/15/15 Say, Can I Say?

Can I say a few things?

Like, all the changes to WordPress are kind of tweaking me out. I might have to switch back to “classic” mode, because it kind of bothers me to see, “Yay!” after I create a post. Call me a curmudgeon, (get it? “cur” mudgeon) but I don’t like the “Yay” business. It’s harder to follow comments, too. I could gripe a while, but I’ll spare you.

say

Speaking of tweaking, Mom learned the hard way not to tweak my dog food. She changed my usual brand, and, while the new one was tasty, it had two unfortunate side effects.

The first was noticed by Dad, who was rocking his groove (aka, sitting in his spot on the couch) and I lay comfortably at his feet. I had eaten dinner and was feeling fat and happy, when a little burble started in my stomach that eventually worked its way out of my hind quarters. Sniff, sniff. Dad’s glasses melted off his face and he hollered, “WHAT is that STENCH?!” I have news for Dad. Girls don’t “fart”, they “fluff”. And fluff I did!

The next morning, I ran down to my favorite spot on the landing and hurked up some green stuff. Mom said, “This is why we don’t get new carpet!” for the umpteenth time, and cleaned up the mess. Soon she was back at the grocery store, buying my usual brand of dog food and giving away the rest to Erik, whose dog’s tummy is not quite as touchy as Yours Truly.

My stomach discomforts aside, Jamie has been working on a Lego “The Tumbler” Batmobile. It’s got about a zillion little (crunchy) plastic pieces, and they are all separated into little (crunchy) plastic bags with numbers on them. It’s become quite the game between him and I; him doing the building and me snatching the little bags and making a break for it. But his progress is very good. He only has about three bags left. Here are pictures of the interior and jet engine:

interior

and

jetengine

I’ll post a complete picture of “The Tumbler” when it’s completed. Yes, Jamie is certainly quite the Lego engineer.

Now if he could only engineer me up some dog food that didn’t make me fluff.

Woof! Love, Maggie