tcsa

And That's Pork LOIN, By the Way...

Tonya and I have this special greeting that is a bit different.
When we answer phone calls from each other, or meet up somewhere, we roar "Smells lahk AAAASSSSSSSSSSS!"
This has a perfectly rational backstory, if you'll just bear with me.
It really does.
And it doesn't even have anything to do with farts.
Really.

Quite a long time ago, I was shopping in the commissary at Pearl Harbor, and since it was before I had blogging for a creative outlet, I was entertaining Tonya via cellphone about the many oddments I'd seen there. The man in the toga, the lady with the mismatched shoes, the children who climbed completely into the ice cream freezer and stuffed their faces until their very bored mom pulled them out, covered in sticky.
At the meat department, one of the butcheresses butcherettes Lorena Bobbits in training butcher ladies, a tiny little Asian woman, was instructing an obviously new bride in the fine points of meat selection.
"Now, dis, dis is da steak," she explained, holding up a package of meat. "An dis, dis is da stew meat. An dis here, dis is da rump roast..... But doan worry, it doan smell lahk ass."
And thusly, a Phrase Is Born.

Now, the fart story....
Maybe later.