Let's just get this out of the way right now...

Farts are funny. They. Just. Are. My husband is horrified by the fact that I CANNOT GET IT TOGETHER when someone starts in with the potty humor. He begrudgingly accepted this about me when he married me, but he likely didn't think I'd attempt to share my humor with, umm, THE INTERNET. (Hi, honey!) But I can't help it. I keep thinking I'll outgrow it while simultaneously hoping that our children will inherit my potty humor gene, because when they discover how much cooler their father is than their bat S@#* crazy mother, at least WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE THAT.

Quick side note: In an attempt to humor me, Paul often chimes in with the only potty joke he knows. When something smells good (cologne, food, you name it) and some unknowing, innocent friend verbalizes this to the group, Paul immediately jumps at the opportunity by offering this:

"I farted." (He "exclaims").

(Those of you who know my husband know why I put "exclaims" in quotation marks.) If potty humor had it's own version of slapstick, this would be it, minus both the voice inflection and comedic timing it takes to warrant a laugh. But what can I say? Some people are born with athleticism, some with potty humor. I like to call our union a joint survival of the fittest.

I love Dooce.com, for example, in part because she embraces potty humor on a regular basis. (Hahaha...I said regular.) Sure, there are other things that keep me coming back, but she had me at the gas.

The most recent post on Dooce, for example, talks about dog farts. Because my parents' dog, Tobe, lived to be 1,241 years old, as a family we shared many noteworthy moments at the dinner table. In his early years, Tobe was sly, releasing without a sound. When guests weren't present, we'd take pride in being the first one to warn the rest of the family about what was momentarily about to hit them. Later on (and, conveniently, when guests were present), Tobe took over the warning process, creating a sound that was a cross between a pathetic bugle horn player with emphysema and a whistling wind. When this happened, the adult children would look across the table at one another, smirks on our faces, while Dad chose to simply ignore it, moving the conversation along in the only subtle way he knew how: "MORE WINE?"

It's easier to talk about dog farts than human farts, but this weekend my girlfriends (delicate flowers that we are) explored the subject extensively. Do you fart in front of your significant other? Who was the first to do it? (Something that, to a potty humor specialist, often holds more significance than the first I LOVE YOU.) Whose farts are the loudest? (A unanimous HIS.) The grossest? (HIS. Usually.) If there's one universal truth about females, they can talk a subject to death and throw their significant other under the bus at the DROP OF A HAT when it comes to potty practice. In true fashion, we gave this subject all we had.

I naturally flock to people who share my love for potty humor, but there is always a moment when, in the first stages of friendship, I GO THERE only to discover that my new friend does not, in fact, have the "potty gene." They laugh politely while I dab the tears from my eyes and wait for my abdomen to stop hurting. But when we both suddenly come to the realization we're NOT on the same page when it comes to what we consider funny (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN), we look at each other with disappointment, as if to simultaneously say, "Ohhh, I see."

So be forewarned, anti-potty humor blog readers. Be. Fore. Warned.

P.S. Coming soon! The domestic goddess experience of checking #26 of the Meganithappen Life List. Stay tuned!