Did I tell you I'm farting again?

It's a natural thing we think is crude and rude in most settings,... only, if you don't fart at some point in time... something is really seriously wrong with you. I know, 'cause I didn't pass gas for almost two months.

(Okay, you know I'm still obsessing about my surgeries, so just bear with me for a moment. I promise I'll try to keep it short.)

Farts let the doctors know that your bowels are working correctly, passing stuff from your mouth to your stomach, small intestines, large intestines, colon, and finally out your ass. (If you ain't fart'n, surgery might be in your immediate future. Trust me. I know.)

Every day for the first four days after my first surgery on Aug. 17, the magic question was, "Are you passing gas yet?" And every day, my answer was, "No, not really," as my stomach blew up like a ballon.

Lots of stuff happened between then and now, yada, yada, yada, and after my last surgery on Oct. 26, when they said they had fixed what was ailing me, I waited with bated breath for those farts to come. THREE days later, I blew a fart and the world rejoiced. I nearly cried.

I wasn't shy about farting before, but now I don't even give a rat's ass (hehehe... I like saying that: rat's ass.) I will let 'em rip anywhere... 'cause it means my shit is working, literally. Now, I fart every morning before I get out of bed, and then give a hugh sigh of relief. It's gonna be a good day.

So next time you're in an elevator, crack a fart, and right before everyone passes out, just let them know it's a sign that you are a healthy, gasy mofo!

Now, THAT'S something to be thankful for!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING