Let me just say right off the top, it gives me some measure of alarm about the type of readership I would attract when I wrote this. After all those who would click on purpose on anything written on a subject so terrible as, Blueberry Farts; well it says a lot about the kind of person they are.
And since you have chosen to of your own free will to click on this article my worst suspicions have been confirmed.
And if you are equally repulsed yet somehow compelled to click on something so terribly titled as this if for no other reason as to see what kind of person could write such a title as this, I too understand your fascination with abnormal psychology.
Where shall I begin? What if I told you I was concerned about the lack of good nutrition that's been conspicuously lacking from my diet. Now, when I say diet, let me clarify. By diet, I do not intend to mislead the reader that I actually pursue a rational, well-informed selection of good foods of nutritious value. My diet, or rather, the lack thereof, is a chaotic, careless consumption of junk calories and fatty fried fast foods, washed down with carbonated sugary drinks. And so one day, mostly in disgust, I declared to myself that I am going to eat healthy. That is as soon as I finish that last piece of stale cake in the back of the fridge, the one next to the fuzzy macaroni.
Several catastrophic failures later, in desperation I mustered up the full measure of my willpower to boldly and emphatically state to the world, "I'm going to eat healthy even if it kills me!"
Some people mindlessly clogging the snack aisle at the local convenience store were startled at my sudden outburst but most simply chose to ignore me lest I resort to more drastic measures. And then there was the old obese guy in the electric scooter, folds of fat hanging off both sides and dragging the aisle, his butt tightly wedged into the tiny seat; drove over my foot in haste to grab the last pack of calorie-ridden snack cakes laced with processed ingredients.
A swirling tornadic vortex of seaweed...
Undaunted I turned to the experts on the internet for guidance. Hmmmm? Kale? Sounds awful so it must be healthy. Smoothies? Why not, I thought! All I need is a blender...a pack of frozen blueberries. Genius! Soon I'd be the picture of health and energy.
So I rushed home with my new ingredients and unpacked my blender hastily to make a smoothie with ingredients of equal measures of kale and blueberries. If this combination sounds terrible to you, let me assure you it tastes much worse than it sounds.
Texture. Now there's a word you don't normally want to associate with anything you'd prefer to think of as a smoothie and yet there it is, swirling around in my blender like a swirling tornadic vortex of green seaweed. And I'm going to drink this?!
Kale, I suspect is probably harvested much like lawnmower clippings after mowing your yard. I imagine it being scraped from the under deck of a lawnmower by some sweaty guy whose pinnacle of academic achievement was the time spent in the bathroom stall immediately after devouring a school lunch. There, globs of it are slopped onto a conveyor belt where it is packaged in brightly colored plastic and shipped to your local grocery store where it sits lurking in the frozen goods section until the unsuspecting consumer buys it.
There are several approaches as to how best to swallow a mixture with the consistency of soggy toilet paper dissolved and suspended in a fruity elixir; one being to gulp while holding your breath until the last bit has swirled down your throat, this approach being much like a toilet that has been flushed. Or there is the alternate approach where you break it up into smaller gulps while suppressing the urge to regurgitate, thus prolonging your agony.
There it is, in my blender, looking like something an alpaca spit up.
Down it goes!
Chug, chug, chug. Gulp! Gasp. what follows next is a series of twisted, contorted faces followed by gagging noises. More gagging noises!
The combination was so instantaneously noxious that my stomach sent an angry tirade of nerve signals to the brain demanding that my digestive tract immediately expel the mess. Moments later my stomach dumped the awful mess directly into colon which angrily sent the glob further down the intestines (it turns out down was the only direction it could go as the esophagus flatly refused to let it back out the direction it came since it had already endured it as it went down the first time). I began to fart uncontrollably in an attempt to rid myself of the contents. Terrible farts that lingered in the air like toxic clouds of stench, much like you would expect from the carcasses of dead, bloated cattle, a stench followed by a sweet blueberry aftertaste.
Next week, I said. I'm going to eat healthy starting next week. Kale and blueberries? I don't think so.
I wonder if I can get my money back on that blender?
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