Dr. Ken Turns 40

Well, it's my 40th birthday today, so I figured I might as well do a blog post. I have the day off of work, and I'm spending it with my 4-month-old little buddy, Erik. The only thing I had to get done today was drive out to Toys R Us and Carter's to return some of Baby Erik's Christmas stuff. I don't know a lot about parenting, but here is a good tip: Don't buy anything for babies that has buttons all the way up and down. The very idea that people are still making, buying, and selling button-up and snap-up baby clothes when the zipper is 10 times faster is astounding.

Speed is of the utmost importance when you're changing 30 diapers a day. Snapping one-by-one with a baby crying and squirming all over the place . . . Why would you put yourself through that? So, yeah, the button-up jammies had to be returned. Instead I got him some of those sweet sweatpants that look like jeans. Mrs. Noisewater was saying she is okay with all of his sweatpants, but daddy insisted that the boy have some jeans when he is out in public (or at least give the outward appearance of jeans). My boy is no everyday sweatpants fella, and I intend on being sure of it. I dig those jeans/sweats so much that I spent the extra 8 bucks to get one that is one size bigger that he can wear when he outgrow the first pair. I considered buying a pair for myself because I like comfort as much as the next guy.

Okay, as it turns out you all haven't been missing much by me not blogging anymore as evidenced by these topics. But I have decided that I need to try to write more. My good friend's father just died, and every time I think about my own mortality I immediately think that one of my biggest regrets would be not writing more. Weird, right? Well, have no fear. When I'm dead and gone there will be brilliant pieces of work out here on the inter-webs about my son's magical jeans that have the comfort of sweatpants.

I know it's wrong, but I watch some television with my infant. What? The horror! Well, when you have kids, you tell me if you can do doctor recommended play crap all day long. Believe me, it's nice when daddy wants to watch the Bulls and he will sit next to me with that beautiful blank stare of his into the glowing beautiful light. So the other day Erik and I were watching Robotech. Anyone ever watch that as a kid? I know a couple of you are right around my age, but to be honest, a lot of friends who I talk to don't remember it. It's a Japanimation cartoon from the 80's about a time in the future where an alien spaceship crashes into earth, and humans use the technology to develop their own weapons (such as jets that transform into robots), and then years later the aliens come down to earth to retrieve the spaceship and kick ass and stuff. There are some love stories going on and some major characters dying, which was really heavy when you were a kid. Here's a clip of Robotech below.



Another thing going on is that my mother-in-law is flying in from the San Francisco area to stay with us for 3 months to help watch Baby Erik while Mrs. Noisewater and I are at work. It's a small apartment for the four of us, but it will be really great to have her here. She grew up in Japan. I wonder if she will watch Robotech with me . . .

Tonight Mrs. Noisewater and I are making pizzas and maybe having a beer or two for my birthday evening. We don't go out as much anymore, but we really don't miss it that much. It's a more simple life, and our little guy brings us a lot of joy. Like the other day my son is on the couch with me and I got a hold of his ankles, making his feet clap like a pair of hands, doing stuff that dads do when they run out of shit to do. I thought I smelled some poop, and just as I move my nose right up to his little butt, he cuts loose with a whopper fart. Expert timing. I laughed my ass off. He just kept farting.

See you next time, friends.

A to Z Farts

Well, the last blog was about pooping, and I'm sorry to say that this one is about farting.  Now, without thinking about each letter for more than a few seconds, I give you every type of fart from A to Z.

A - Aroma therapy fart
B - Barrage of farts
C - Chimichanga fart
D - Dangerous fart
E - Effervescing fart
F - Full blast fart
G - Gorgeous fart
H - Helluva fart
I - Impossibly bad fart
J - Joyous fart
K - Kissed by a fart
L - Lackluster fart
M - Mediocre fart (seem to be hitting the run of the mill farts around here)
N - Napalm strike fart
O - Omnipotent farting
P - Perennial
Q - Quit farting already fart!
R - Relaxed fart
S - Sharting fart (or perhaps the snart, when you sneeze and a fart eeks out - Thank you, Chudd).
T - Treacherous fart
U - Unmistakably a fart
V - Vicious fart
W - Wasn't a fart at all.  Must have been the leather couch cushion .
X - X-men fart (mutant power farts)
Y - Yes, that was my fart.
Z - Zangief holding you down and farting on you fart.

"Ref!  Help!  Can he do that?"

Your mission, readers, if you choose to accept it, is to take one of these types of farts and describe it in detail.  That or just say what an idiot I am or whatever else you wanna say.  

Ever Wonder What Would Happen . . .

. . . if the whole world farted at once? 

When you start to type that into google, right when you get to the whole world, it knows where you're going with it.  The first thing that comes up is Yahoo answers, and these are the funniest and most insightful answers.

1. "it would be the funniest end of the planet in the universe, and the aliens would get a right laugh."

• 3 years ago 22% 2 Votes

2. "You'd probably be able to see a green, stinky cloud arise from Earth that could be seen from space. Nasa could contain the gases and do research on our diets.

How could that happen, though? Consider the time zones. Would some be farting in their sleep?

On the other hand, you'd be able to hear a funny and loud noise that would be a lifelong treasure if you video taped it. I'd be video taping as I farted...now that's what I call multitasking!"

3 years ago.  11% 1 Vote

3. "After 10 seconds - 1 hour (depends on your farting ability again!) The gases and stuff would go into the atmosphere and a bunch of old scientists with funny moustaches would tell us that we sped up global warming by 1 million years . . . . DAMMIT now we only have 998 million years to go before we all burn alive . . . .

I could be a story teller couldn't I . . . with a failing career and lack of talent . . ."

• 3 years ago.  11% 1 Vote 

 

Personally, all I can think of is "I'd like to teach the whole world to fart.  In perfect harmony . . ."  It's really quite a beautiful exercise in world unity, isn't it?  Should we hold hands in a Hands Across America type deal first? 

Have You Ever Had a Fart That Sounds Like a Chewbacca Howl?

I had one of those walking through a nearly empty airport tonight, and it got me wondering if wookies do, in fact, fart, and if so, how bad would wookie flatulence smell?

Yes. This Is the Best I Got

The Fart Muzzle: When someone clasps a hand over his/her butt to lessen the noise, as to get away with a fart, not unlike the concept of a trumpet mute.

I have been uninspired and busy with other things, and when I checked my phone for memos for ideas, this was the only one I had. And it was weeks ago.

Butt Notes

Have you ever farted and it sounds just like a note in a song? I mean, it makes sense, right? The human sphincter is bound to be able to produce a multitude of sounds. Just ask Gerry Phillips, who is a manualist, or in other words, a guy who makes fart songs with his hands. You figure if a guy can play Bohemian Rhapsody with hand farts, then our butts must have the same capacity. Well, I swear to God I hit the exact notes of some songs in the morning, and then that song is on my head for the remainder of the day.

Anyone else ever do this?

Well, either way, here's a song by this idiot.

Symphony, Tuerette's, and Fart Music

I went to the symphony the other night, and I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. There really is no substitute for seeing that type of music live because as you see each group of instruments playing, you can hear it coming from those various places, so it really is an incredible sensory experience. It makes me wonder just how in the hell someone could write all that, thinking who would be playing what. Also, seeing that makes me feel like an idiot for being such a fan of rock music, but I know it's only rock and roll - but I like it. Like it. Yes I do.

I was with a lady friend, and we were trying not to stop laughing at an old and fat trombone player who appeared to take naps in between his sections, slumped in his chair with his eyes closed. Ladyfriend was saying that perhaps he is a narcoleptic, and it would be even more fun had he had Tuerette's Syndrome. I'm thinking even better to have a Tuerette's conductor, blurting out "cocksucker, shit . . . tit!" That would not be too classy.

Speaking of which, when I went to take a pee, a guy was blasting out epic splattery diarrhea farts in one of the stalls, and I was thinking that wasn't a classy maneuver either. It sounded like a b flat, perhaps from a bassoon. An orchestra of farting would be so awesome because it would add smell into the whole sensory experience I spoke of earlier. Maybe I'm nut cut out for a life of "culture . . ."

Stage Direction: Three friends are watching the Chicago Blackhawks game in the corner of a bar at a Northside watering hole

Layne: God bless America! Who in the hell ripped ass in here?

John: Totally not me. I'd tell you.

Layne: True. He'd tell the whole bar. Feck, how could you just just rip like that? We're breathing here!

Feck: It's not me. I know I'm leaning like this against the bar with my ass sticking out like I'm blasting one out there, but you know I just don't like to sit down. It's my AD/HD.

Layne: Well someone fucking unloaded in here, and it wasn't me.

All three suddenly become engrossed with the happenings of the TV as Blackhawks go on a two on one break . . .

All Three: Goooooooal! Yeah!

John: Yeah! This series is over. We got this.

Feck: Totally, but . . . what's that . . . Jesus! It stinks like the worst butt ever in here!

Layne: Okay, that time it was me. I admit it.

Feck: Yes, I knew it! Yuck! And that last one was you because it smelled precisely like this one.

Layne: Well, that's because we're all eating the same pizza - thus the same product.

Feck: No, dumb ass, it's got nothing to do with the fuel going in - it all smells like the same stinky anus: yours!

John: This is a disgusting conversation. Can we just plug our noses, close our mouths, and sit quietly like this for the next 34 seconds, which is roughly how long it took Layne's last fart to subside?