Were you farting in Seattle this weekend? Well, the maybe love of your life is looking for you.

You were the hot brunette with curves that farted near the produce this weekend. I was the tall guy next to you that looked over and asked, "Was that you?" You quickly replied "No... Wasn't me!" You almost seemed insulted I would ask. As the stink grew you continued to deny your flatulence, but it was evident. I tried to get rid of the stench by waving a couple loafs of bread from La Panier. You proceeded to storm off in an angry manner. You are beautiful and even though you are a liar and fart like a Clydesdale, I would love to meet up for a drink sometime.


Ah yes, the key to any woman's fart I mean heart: calling her a liar and then telling her she has flatulence of a giant beast that weighs 2,000 pounds. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? CALL HIM, GIRL!!!

[h/t Burt!]