DAY 1 - 08/23/04:


Oh God, I shouldn't have eaten that.

I could feel the gas welling up inside of me. My roommate was gone all day, so everything should be all right. But I haven't even met him yet, so if he walks in, the smell is going to hit him like a sledgehammer to the face. And God knows, this guy is from Belgium. I don't want him to think that Americans are pigs.

Or wait....

I did a check, a double-check, and then waited five minutes. God this was bad. He's not coming in anytime soon, I should just get it out.

"pffffft" My asscheeks said.

Oh, sweet relief. I sat back and smiled. Nothing like that feeling you get after a successful gas evacuation. Shit, that smells really bad. Open a window, jackass. Do something. At least wave your hand a little, you lazy bastard!

*Click*

What was that!? Oh don't fucking tell me....

The door opened, and my new roommate greeted me with a smile. He was promptly greeted with the smell of my lunch. He looked very uncomfortable. I had to play it off.

"Oh, hi! I'm Matt, how are you?"
"Hello, my name is Nicoli." He had a thick accent. "I come from Belgium. Where are you from? Are you American?"

How'd he guess?

"Oh. Uh, yeah, I'm from Connecticut."

What the hell else could I say?

*Long awkward pause*

"Well, Matt. I have brought you some Belgium beer as a welcoming present. I am sure we will enjoy it tonight. American beer is not so good. Budweiser tastes like, ah, how you say, 'pees'?"
"Pees? Oh, you mean 'piss'. Yea, Ameri- I mean, Budweiser sucks."

Well, at least he's friendly.


DAY 2 - 08/24/04:


Hmmmmmmmm.......

I looked at the clock on my computer. 1:00 AM. Perhaps he was spending the night in his girlfriend's room or something?

Or not. I have to hold this one in. This is the mother of all farts. I felt the bubble recede into my stomach, and I groaned. If it came back anytime soon, I was going to lose it. I stood up. I had to walk this one off.

I nervously looked at the clock again. Oh, for the love of God, I had to let this one go. Beads of sweat trickled down my head.

Hold it in.
I can't!
You can!
I'm going to explode!
Run to the bathroom or something!
It's too far, I'll lose it along the way!
Point it out the window!
Do what!?
Just stick your ass out the window and do it!

For some reason, this seemed like a great idea. I bolted to the window, opened it, aimed my ass....

and watched the door open in front of me just as my ass exploded. My roommate jumped back in shock. There I was, bent over in front of a window, letting the loudest fart escape from me, and with the most comical mix of fright, ecstacy, and embarrassment etched onto my face.

"I-I-I'm.... what I was-" I was sputtering nothing more than sentence fragments. I had been caught in the very act of farting.

"Is it common for you Americans to, ah...." He looked in his little dictionary. "'Break Wind' like you?"

I was in too much shock to do anything but nod. I wasn't even sure what he was asking me.

"Oh, wonderful!" He cried.

And with that, he let loose one of the loudest and most amazing of farts I had ever witnessed. It put even the greatest of farts to shame. Nothing could have prepared me for the blast that came from that man's ass. What happened next was a blur. I passed out either from the horrific stench, or from falling off the window sill and smashing my face off the corner of my desk from laughing too hard.



Belgians smell bad.