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My wife tells me she'd blow me more if I'd stop ripping the most heinous farts known to man around her 24/7. I just get too much joy out of decimating the air any chance I get.
These things sound like a cross between deer bleats and thunder and smell like raw sewage. Can't saw that I blame her, but I'm not going to cut out the farting. It's one of my favorite things in the world to take a lovely, serene week-night living room and turn it into some sort of dumpster/swamp/roadkill center.
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