Table Manners

Table manners are important.  This was something that was impressed upon me at a very young age. viagra from canada

  Behavior at the table speaks volumes about you, especially in a public place.  I remember being strongly reprimanded by my parents for poor dinner table etiquette.  At one point, we even had a bank with a list of rules and corresponding fines on the center of the table.  No doubt this was placed here by my frustrated parents that never seemed to enjoy a meal in peace with their five children.  The rules included things like “Don’t feed the dog under the table.”, “Ask to have something passed to you instead of reaching across.”, “Don’t eat with your elbows on the table.”, and the ever important “No swearing.”.

I reflect back on my childhood dinner experiences and remember the worst things done at the table were verbal.  Those would be the things that tried the patience of my long suffering parents.  Yelling at a brother or sister or complaining that the food was subpar was probably some of the worst offenses.  But, never; I mean NEVER, would any of us have dreamed of doing what my family does at the table.

I’m not talking an accidental slip of some gas followed by blushed cheeks and an apology.  I’m talking about full-out, earth shaking belches that the neighbors could hear.  Usually followed by a fist pump or a high five, those burps are highly entertaining for everyone around the table except me.  Not to be outdone by someone else, the next guy around the table tries to burp louder and longer than the last gas-infused kid.

The first time, even the second or third time, I can laugh along.  Sure, one burp can be funny and spark a chain reaction.  I’m not a complete stick in the mud.  But it is as if they have just uncovered the body’s ability to release gastric build up; a new discovery each and every meal…..possibly in the name of science. And science is a frontier that must be explored. But after about the forth replay of this belching game, I’m done.

Come on!”, I say, “Give me a break!  Don’t burp at the table.  It’s disgusting and I’m eating here.” Just as the apology is about to leave the lips of my 5 little angels and calm and decorum is reinstated at the family meal, the gentleman sitting to my right leans over, looks at me right in the eye while his entire chair reverberates with a sound similar to the truck slamming on the Jake Brake.


Let me clarify who the person sitting to my right is.  I’ll give you a hint; he’s bald, over the age of 50 and once told me that I smelled like roses.  In other words; MY HUSBAND JUST FARTED IN MY GENERAL DIRECTION!!!!

Et tu Brutus?

Of course, this brilliant development on my attempt to have a protocol lesson on table manners has just been trumped.  As if there was not enough entertainment value happening before the head-table-flatulence, now this entire meal has credits worthy of a Comedy Central show in my boy’s eyes.

Dad farted.  Therefore a burp is a mere misdemeanor.

At this point everyone is laughing hysterically.  Everyone but me.  I am completely grossed out.  I fantasize and immediately play out scenarios in my mind that next time (and yes, there will be a next time), I will get up from the table, grab my keys, and go to a nice quiet restaurant where classical music is played in the background and abnormally large plates serve surprisingly small amounts of food.  These are plates I will not wash and food I did not cook, and I will enjoy every minute of it.

A girl can dream right?

The Power of the Axe

I often think that if detecting odors was an Olympic event, I would win the gold.  I have been able to sniff out all sorts of rank smells, from a rotting food under a bed to stinky socks mindlessly returned to the dresser.  After 18 years of dedicated service through motherhood, my sniffer is now highly attuned to every delicate imbalance in the bouquet of the universe.

In the last couple of years there has been a shift in the odor of things.  Pubescent boys across the country have been embracing a new substance that will forever change the fragrance of this planet. 

It’s called AXE.  It comes in many forms; body spray, underarm deodorant, shampoo and body soap.  Short of burning the nose hairs right out of my schnozzle, nothing has managed to mask “man smell” better than this ground breaking substance.  Not only will it cloak the tang of the one adorning it, but it will perfume a 20 foot radius around the individual for all to enjoy.  Walk on any high school football stadium and take a whiff.  Because as all things with teenage boys, nothing is in moderation, and I promise you will not be prepared for the musky scented garland that will accost your olfactory. 

It is blessed relief.

Never was this more apparent than in my recent family vacation that involved boating and swimming in 90+ degree weather.  I was sitting in the back seat of the boat transporting my six men and a dog knowing, full well, that I was the only individual in the afore mentioned boat that had sufficiently showered in the last 24 hours.  Some individuals had gone into the lake water adding the ingredient of fishiness to mix of “nature”, wet dog and sweat.  As the boat climbed up to speeds past 30mph, I was second guessing my wisdom of my downwind seat selection.  It was then I beheld the power of the AXE.   The lake breeze flowed through my hair as we skimmed across the glass like surface but only the pleasant aroma of “Essence – 24 hour invisible solid” wafted to the backseat.  As I beheld this minor miracle I embraced a sense why is herpes contagious (scent) of gratitude and asked myself, “What is that fresh manly scent?”.  Only to remind myself, “Ah yes………it’s Axe.”

Thank you, Unilever.  I am forever indebted to your chemical prowess.