THE ART OF THE FART

It is with great pride that I tell you this:
I woke up this morning, logged into my e-mail account and saw that TWO of you delightful Peons had sent me the following story. It is very flattering to know that when people see a story about farting, I am the go to recipient of that story.
If this were an SAT exam, the correct equation might read: "Pet hair is to black pants as VJDutton is to fart stories."

SOUTH CHARLESTON, W.Va. - A West Virginia man who police said passed gas and fanned it toward a patrolman has been charged with battery on a police officer.
Jose A. Cruz, 34, of Clarksburg, was pulled over early Tuesday for driving without headlights, police said. According to the criminal complaint, Cruz smelled of alcohol, had slurred speech and failed three field sobriety tests before he was handcuffed and taken to a police station for a breathalyzer test.
As Patrolman T.E. Parsons prepared the machine, Cruz scooted his chair toward Parsons, lifted his leg and "passed gas loudly," the complaint said.
Cruz, according to complaint, then fanned the gas toward the officer.
"The gas was very odorous and created contact of an insulting or provoking nature with Patrolman Parsons," the complaint alleged.
Cruz acknowledged passing gas, but said he didn't move his chair toward the officer nor aim gas at the patrolman. He said he had an upset stomach at the time, but police denied his request to go to the bathroom when he first arrived at the station.
"I couldn't hold it no more," he said.

Yeah. The last line is my favorite too.

CANDY CORN AND MARXISM

I was just thinking back to my chock-full-of hippies formative years on Whidbey Island. For the most part, it was great. You really felt connected to the whole community, there was a creative spirit, and if you ever ran out of pot, you could usually find some in your friend's kitchen, right next to the organic oats.
But it wasn't always fun to have socially conscious, anti-capitalist neighbors:

It was Halloween. I was nine, trick-or-treating with some pals. I was dressed as Groucho Marx, wearing my Dad's huge, red wine stained white tux jacket. It was from his third wedding, when he said "I do" to a coked up Pan Am flight attendant as "Send In The Clowns" swelled on the quadrophonic sound system. Why my mom didn't throw that ugly tux out when they remarried seven years later I'll never know. Maybe she knew it would make a valuable costume. Now that I think about it--I got a lot of use out of that thing. The following year I wore it for my gender-bending role as Abe Lincoln in the school play.

Anyway, we went up to a house with lights on and the TV blaring. Clearly, they were fair game. Everyone knows if you display any signs of life in your house on Halloween, you're ripe for the begging. Admittedly, this house had no decorations, and there was concern they'd be the types to offer up stale fruit roll ups or some such shit.
Still, we knocked. We knocked some more. We continued pounding away with our nine-year-old fists until some angry, bearded man ripped open the door and bellowed:

"WE DON'T BELIEVE IN THIS CAPITALIST HALLOWEEN CRAP! YOU WON'T GET ANY CANDY FROM US! WE DON'T BUY INTO SOME STUPID HOLIDAY THAT BENEFITS CORPORATE CANDY MAKERS AT THE EXPENSE OF CHILDREN'S TEETH. WE REFUSE TO BE PAWNS OF THE SYSTEM! NOW GET OUT OF HERE!"

So despite being dressed as Marx, I didn't curry any favor with these Halloween revolutionaries.

DANGEROUS NUDITY

I am just devastated.
A kindred spirit has been arrested in Illinois:

DELHI, Ill. - Here's a tip: Bartending nude can get you arrested.
Sheriff's deputies doing a routine check this week at a southern Illinois bar say they discovered a not-so-routine sight. Authorities allege that 33-year-old Janet Brannon was naked while serving bar patrons at the Cabin Tavern in Delhi (DEL'-ee).
Brannon was arrested and charged with misdemeanor public indecency. She was freed on $8,000 bond.
She was the only bar employee working at the time, so the tavern was closed Thursday.

See, this is where I take issue with government interference.
Pre-arrest, life was good for the patrons of the Cabin Tavern.
Happy Hour was truly happy.
Post arrest, there was no nudity AND no booze.
This is a horrifying miscarriage of justice.

That said, here's my list of The Top 5 Worst Jobs To Do In The Nude:

1. Totem pole carver
2. Olympic trampolinist
3. Pit Bull trainer
4. Smelter
5. Beekeeper

BONUS: The Guy Pictured Above

Any others?

EJACULATE UPDATE!

I told my good friend from yesterday's ejaculate post that she was the star of Peon Confidential for the day, and she sent me an update!
So today, I'm offering the official account of her trip to the fertility doctor.
Actually--are there any children's book authors out there? Now there's a kid's book I haven't seen: "A Trip To The Fertility Doctor". It should be modeled after the fantastic "Where Did I Come From?" book. Anyone else read that one as a kid? Of course, glancing at the comments section of that website makes me depressed at the state of this country. I see some parents are complaining that the happy, round illustrations of mommy and daddy are "too graphic".
They're probably Sarah Palin fans.
But I digress. Here's the fertility doctor account:

We seat-belted [the sperm tank] into the back seat of the car, and sped off with hopes that the timing was right. My doctor (who is quite a catch, by the way. I've heard she is a fertility magician who attracts wanna-be breeders from all over the midwest!) popped open the tank, revealing the drama of dry ice, and pulled out the tiny vial. She showed us the number and cap color because, of course, one should inspect to be sure the product delivered matches the product ordered. For instance, if one orders sperm from a man of Asian or Pacific Island descent and receives a specimen with a brown (African), white(Caucasian), or red (mixed ethnicity) cap, the order has been mixed-up. Our order was correct, so my partner and I relaxed with US Weekly while waiting for the contents to thaw. Finally, the doctor took all of a minute and a half to inject into my uterus the very tiny amount of concentrated "specimen" through a thin rubber syringe. She pulled off her gloves and announced, "If only all inseminations were this easy!" My partner and I cheered. I've never been so proud to be easy. I didn't even have take off my argyle socks.

My pal was also kind enough to send us the above photos. The first is a generic sperm specimen photo. (Looks like something out of a Def Leppard video, doesn't it?) The second is a far more personal photo. The specimen in that tank may well become a little child who refers to me as Crazy Auntie Saara.

And if not, she promised that "if the impregnation does not occur this month, next month we will do a photo shoot with our next shipment."

Please do! You may even want to consider an OLAN MILLS family portrait!

QUALITY EJACULATE SELECTION

Yesterday I received an e-mail brimming with the glad tidings that a good friend of mine is ready to crack open the top grade ejaculate that she and her spouse purchased. Spermination is about to commence!
She wrote:
"I have a tank full of stuff in my living room which only stays frozen for up to seven days. We're going to bring this tank to my doctor today or tomorrow. No indigo girls ballads, no turkey baster."

She also sent me all of the donor information she had sifted through in order to choose just the right cum. It was truly astonishing. Not only did I read his profile, in which I learned he has "an amazing eye for photography, color, design and ripe fruit", but I gleaned precise details about his nostril flare measurements and cowlick potential.

But best of all was the Staff Impression, in which I discovered that this donor is "friendly, cooperative and easygoing".
I told her it reminded me of the "Staff Recommendations" at Barnes & Noble. And I do not think I've ever been persuaded to purchase "Cujo" because someone named Abigail liked it.
I don't know Abigail.
Perhaps she's an asshole.
I don't care if she thinks "Cujo" is "amazing".
Fuck Abigail.

She responded with:
"It's funny...we read a lot of these and obviously what we were looking for was 'this donor is good looking.' So many of the staff people wrote all kinds of bullshit down, not once mentioning looks. If I am paying $500.00 for ejaculate, it better create a nice looking child."

Now that's my kind of jizz shopper.

CAMEL TOE DISCOVERY

So-
I sat down, slightly blurry eyed on Sunday and read this headline:
"Million-year-old camel bone unearthed in Syria"

But in my hung over state, I actually read it as:
"Million-year-old camel TOE unearthed in Syria"

I quickly decided I prefer that story to the real one.
Therefore I went ahead and rewrote the article as such:

DAMASCUS, Syria - Scientists have unearthed a camel toe in the Syrian desert that they think may be a previously unknown tiny species of toe and say dates back a million years. The camel toe was found last month near the village of Khowm in the Palmyra region, about 150 miles northeast of Damascus.

The new find could offer important clues about the camel toe's evolution, the researchers said.

"It is a very important discovery," said the head researcher. He said it is the oldest camel toe to be unearthed in the Middle East and probably worldwide.

He added in an interview Saturday that the camel toe appeared to be very small and could be a new species, but he stressed that more studies were needed to confirm that.

"This camel toe is very small in comparison with the normal camel toe," he said. "But we have to find more toes, different toes, before we can be sure it is a new species."

THE POLITICS OF LIPSTICK

So-
My mom decided to weigh in on the Sarah Palin lipstick wars.
Naturally, it was in the form of a PHONE MESSAGE. I came home, pushed the button on my answering machine and heard a harsh Finnish accent saying:

"I don't understand why that Palin woman even talked about the lipstick and pit bulls. And now I open the paper and people are talking about pigs with the lipstick and whatever else. Why all this lipstick talk? Because she doesn't even wear good lipstick. It's that kind of boring lipstick for women who are afraid to wear it. You know what I mean Saara? Women with no style wear that boring lipstick."

What I want to know is--why isn't my mom a pundit on CNN?

PHOTOGRAPHIC ZOLOFT

So, I woke up a little depressed today.
The mood was gloomy and blue.
Then by sheer good luck, I stumbled across this picture.
I am posting it, just in case any of you need a pick me up.
How can anyone be unhappy while looking at this stylish woman and her divine interior design?
Her joy is infectious!
Surely she is waiting for some equally fashionable pals to arrive for a fondue party.
I wish I were one of them.
But the question is:
What song do you think is playing on that excellent sound system?
I'm going with this one: DISCO TEX AND THE SEX-O-LETTES
What do you think?

A PLEA TO THE AIRLINE INDUSTRY

Why don't flight attendants have outfits like this anymore?
Look at how fabulous these Southwest Airlines professionals are. Now think about the hideous polyester shitpiles that you see on flight attendants these days. Horrible unflattering skirts or pleated pants and some type of fussy little button down shirt.
And bad shoes.
I say:
Since you have to pay for your stale snacks, cum-ridden blankets and crappy headsets now, I think the least airlines could do is mandate hot pants and go go boots again.

CONDOM CREATIVITY

I've said it before and I'll say it again:
I love Florida. It's the Potluck State--you just never know what you're going to get:

PORT ST. LUCIE, Fla. - Police in Port St. Lucie are on the lookout for a cross-dressing man who snatched a 74-year-old woman's purse. As if that weren't odd enough, they're depending on a strange clue. The suspect left behind a condom filled with water he had been using as a fake breast.

The woman said she believed the thief followed her while shopping. A witness told investigators he was wearing a short denim skirt and black tube top, and fled in a silver car with two other male crossdressers.

Police are processing the condom for fingerprint and DNA evidence.

In all my years of having, shall we say, less than large boobs, I've tried to remedy the situation in many ways. I've used tube socks. I've used Kleenex. I've employed the Wonderbra.
But a water-filled rubber never occurred to me.
Not once.

FAREWELL, STAR TREK EXPERIENCE

It is with more than one tear in my eye that I bid adieu to the Star Trek Experience in Las Vegas. Apparently, yesterday was the last day drunken conventioneers and hard core dorks could have a Klingon Encounter or undergo a Borg Invasion.

A fellow Peon and I were fortunate enough to enjoy this attraction during our last trip there. When I mentioned this tragic turn of events, this person said,

Vegas is a sadder place now.
First Sigfried & Roy and now this!?

What's next? Shutting down the all you can eat buffets?
And where do the displaced Trekkies go?

I thank the Lord Almighty we got to see it while we were there.

I couldn't have said it better myself.
But does anyone have an answer to this person's question?
Honestly, just where will all the displaced Trekkies go?

VINTAGE 1997 VJ FASHION RULES

So-
I was going through some photo albums, looking for pics of pals to embarrass them on Facebook, when I found, tucked behind a shot of me on the CNN set, a dot matrix print out of 10 fashion rules. These were created by another VJ and myself circa 1997. Considering I still wore shoulder pads in 1997, I don't quite know how I decided I was the arbiter of style.
However...
Let's see how many of these rules hold up today:

1. Never buy your perfume from the same place you buy your Tampax.

2. NO WHITE PUMPS. I do not care if it is before or after Labor Day, white pumps are strictly for the tuna casserole set.

3. The fanny pack is the downfall of an elegant silhouette.

4. "Suntan" pantyhose: WHY?

5. Thou shalt always wear a belt if belt loops are showing.

6. Only cooking in the kitchen: NO home perms or dye jobs.

7. On that note, NO PERMS! PERIOD! EVER!

8. Miami Vice is over. No rolling up one's jacket sleeves.

9. If you buy trousers that come with a belt (which in itself is a violation of the fashion rules) THROW IT OUT!!

10. Large breasted women should refrain from wearing very large polka dots. It makes people dizzy.

Observations:

- I think with the Tampax comment, I was trying to prevent people from purchasing the likes of Lady Stetson, Charlie, and Primo! (the Giorgio knock off.) So, that's a noble effort.

-The belt loops decree must have been drilled into my head when I worked at Express in Seattle during the summer 1991. I think that was one of their policies. Why I adopted any policies from that shithole is another story.

-I cannot believe I was still doling out advice on perms in 1997. Who was getting a perm, let alone an Ogilvy home perm, in 1997? Nobody, that's who.

-And on that note, who was making tuna casserole? (Apart from that woman who insisted upon microwaving tuna at work, thus making the breakroom stink of smelly pussy.)

-I think I violated the "rolling up the jacket sleeves" rule myself on a regular basis. Short arms and no money for tailoring=rolled up sleeves.

-"If you buy trousers that come with a belt"...where the fuck was I shopping back then? No, I don't want to know.