Therapy Reason No. 857

Call up your inner lounge singer and dust off your leisure suits because this time we are going old school Barry.  Manilow that is.

Her name was Noelle,
She wore the underwear.
She stuck her tongue out in the air
Shook her booty everywhere.

She was so gassy.
And it was nasty.
Mommy sang a silly song
And Noah farted along.

There was a big BRAPPPP sound,
Heard all through the town.
They got a whiff of it
And they all fell down!

My apologies to karaokeists everywhere for the damage inflicted upon this classic. (Hey, sometimes you gotta take the muse where you can.) (Is too a word. Now.)

She'll kill me for this one day

There is so much I love about Noelle; her sweet nature, her inquisitiveness, her creativity, all make her such a joy and a delight to be with.  I could spend hours with her sitting on my lap, reading her a book and smelling her hair...until she farts.  And she does. A lot.  She's always very polite ('Excuse me, I farted' (giggles)) but she does it so much that I was forced to adapt a song in her honor (yes, forced.  Believe me, you would feel that way too once the Grand Dame of Gas unleashed one ON you.)

To the tune of 'Barbie Girl':

I'm a farty girl
In a farty world,
My sphincter's spastic,
Gas attacks-ick.

I pollute the air,
I fart everywhere;
Pull my pinky,
It's so stinky.

Come on Farty,
Let's go potty.
Fart fart fart

Come on Farty,
Let's go potty.
Fart fart fart
I really hope that she gets this under control someday or her social life will be pretty barren...oh...wait.  Nevermind.