Heads Or Tails: Is There A Preferred Difference?

Butter chicken on a bed of Basmati rice.  That's what I had for dinner, last night.  Quite a tasty treat, until a few hours later when I burped and the taste was not equal to that which I'd consumer hours earlier.  I like the sweet sharpness of the curried chicken, but add in stomach acid, when it revisits my taste pallet later, it's horrifying.

Grape, 7-up, Cream Soda, or Cherry Coke, I think my favourite flavour to come up with a throaty belch, would undoubtedly be that of Root Beer.  The fizzy sweetness is still present for doubling down on the refreshing taste.  A second to that would most likely be from a chocolate milkshake.  Drink one of those too fast and you don't have to wait the formality of a couple hours.  One burp of that chocolatey goodness, will bring a smile to your face like no other. 😋

I enjoy burping.  The louder and more obnoxious, the better.  It's a gift that I don't mind sharing with all those around me.  What elevates the enjoyment of not excusing myself afterward.  The disturbed looks of utter disgust is unequalled until they realize that I'm not going to excuse myself, then the appearance of ultimate revulsion warms over their face like a plague.  This brings unbridled joy to me. 😊

I used to like farts, too.  Especially the "silent-but-deadly" variety.  Sidling up to an unsuspecting person in a crowd and unleashing the stealthy fury, then quietly watching the panic and disgust as the victim flees to escape the unrelenting wrath.  Some people are good at video games...  I choose to hone my skills in other ways.  While this isn't something that can be enjoyed by masses, unless video recorded then shown on the Your Mom's House podcast, peppered with laughter from main mommies, Tom Segura and Christina P, the joy is retained to just me.  My fondest moment of this is standing in line to clock out at a job.  It was my last day at a job I did not enjoy.  I quietly broke wind just as a young Filipino woman strode up behind me.  There was a slight pause, before I heard her sweet accent utter the words, "Oooh.  Ees SO steenky."  I looked back to witness her face all scrunched up, like an old potato left on the kitchen counter for too long and her hand waving franticly in an effort to clear her sinuses.

A nice loud and boisterous fart is nice, too, but they scare me.  I'm at an age, now, where if I attempt to force out a loud booming fart, there's likely going to be some shrapnel that accompanies the flatulence.  Sharting is NOT enjoyable, by any means.  I'm sure there are some crazies out there who do enjoy the warm pasty feeling filling their shorts when a squirt happens, but not this guy.  Homey ain't playin'.  False alarms do happen.  I'm sure everyone has squeezed out a fart and it felt like something wasn't as it should be, but upon further investigation, happily learn that the fart was a dry one.  When this happens to me, I always buy a lottery ticket, before that luck runs out.  Overall, the quiet farts are awesome, but I don't know if I'd call that my favourite.

Sour burps suck.  Any time that stomach acid comes up to say "hello", sucks big time.  These always worry me, as my father suffered from "sour burps" for many years, drinking back glass upon glass of baking soda and water as a means to appease the indigestion that he was experiencing.  If only he had visited his physician and had some tests done, then perhaps they would have discovered the Esophageal Cancer that was forming in his throat and he could have been treated in time and survived having cancer.  Chalk that up to 20/20 hindsight.

Like flipping a coin.  Heads or tails.  Which do I prefer, overall?  Do I enjoy the intensity of a hearty belch or the grunginess of a nasty fart?  It's obvious I've done a lot of thinking on this matter.  More than a normal person would or should.  During the pandemic, I don't have a lot of things to occupy my time, so my thoughts tend to wander and when it does, it tends to question things that the normal mind may never conceive.  That's just a part of my charm, I suppose.

The verdict:  I'm going to have to say I like burping over farting.  Mainly because it's something that even an unsuspecting bystander can enjoy.  That's me.  Bringing happiness and joy to the masses during these trying times in the Coronavirus Pandemic, as well as the years to come. 😁

 

Better Than Sex

Yep!  You read that title correctly.  The feeling may not exist every time, but when it's done right, a good hearty burp can feel better than sex anywhere on the planet.  My belch of preference is that which accompanies a nice swig of ice cold Coca-Cola.  There's nothing like it.  Sometimes, if the belch erupts immediately following a big sip, I can still feel the bubbles of carbonation tickling my throat.  I swear it's as satisfying as hearing a baby's first laugh or receiving a warm embrace.  I love it!!

Granted, maybe I'm doing something wrong, if I feel that burping is better than fornication, but I think I have the basic mechanics of it down pat.  It's not something I have an opportunity to do very often, unlike drinking carbonated beverages, but as memory serves, the investment into the sexual act, far outweighs the pay off.  I can't speak for my female counterparts, but I'd imagine they would agree.  All the snorting, grunting, sweating and what have ya, barely covers that final UGH!  Where as, I can sit down drink back a one-plus litre of Vanilla or Cherry Coke and become completely fulfilled for the mere cost of a couple of bucks.

Am I going to pay the price for this admission?  Perhaps, but truth be told, there's not a lot of dogs barking up this tree and I doubt there's going to be anyone coming a knocking at my door to try and prove me otherwise..  Granted, I've had quite a dry spell in the romance department, partially due, I'm almost certain, to my affinity for carbonated beverages, but I'm sure a shitty attitude may be a contributing factor,  However, no matter my outlook at the time, a tasty bottle of root beer isn't going to judge me based on attitude.

To all the lovely ladies reading these words, who've blessed me with the gift of coitus, once upon a time, I thank you and I assure that you've done nothing wrong.  Although, I'm sure you're looking back now with some reservation and disdain.  I enjoyed the time we spent together.  It was fun while it lasted, but to use that old phrase, "It's not you, it's me."

Inspired by T-Dub
(You know who you are...)