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On our trip down to and back from Florida, we kept smelling these really horrible smells, and I think, secretly, we each suspected the other person of being the culprit (though it was probably water and waste treatment facilities causing our faces to crinkle in odor-induced pain). We have strict no farting in front of each other rule, because S is convinced that girls don’t do that, and if I’m not allowed, he’s not allowed. He did make an exception for me one time about 12 years ago when he was driving me home after a colonoscopy.

Anyway, on the way back, there was one stretch that was particularly malodorous, and I told S to roll down the windows when it seemed like we should have been past the point where it smelled and would hopefully be able to get what was lingering in the car out. Nope. Rolled down the window and almost gagged. Who the hell has to live with that smell all the time?! We decided it was tribe of indigenous people who had lived with it so long they no longer noticed it. And we decided the tribe leader was named Speaking Colon, and he had won the right to be the tribe leader because he was the gassiest tribesman. And when they gather for tribal meetings, instead of blowing on a horn or passing a pipe, they passed gas.  I think that’s the most likely scenario. Yup.

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