He Who Smelt it, Dealt it...

 My last post had enough serious soci-political drivel in it to meet my yearly requirement so I thought I'd share something a little more down to earth, or maybe that's earthy. Not sure but here goes.

So I'm in my cave the other night playing some Grif Ball (it is without a doubt my favorite multiplayer on Halo Reach now) it's a tough game and my team is down a player against a really well organized team. We're holding our own and were tied up at 1-1. Next thing I know I hear this loud "bbbbbrrrrrttttttttt". OK, I'm older but not so old that I don't know when I'm baking brownies. About the time that I realize the sound came from behind me and not over Live my nose was assaulted by the raunchiest smell I'd smelled in a long time. My eyes are watering and at this point I figure out that one of my dogs (a 90 lbs. lab/husky/god-knows-what mix) has decided to re-enact the 2nd Battle of Ypres in my office. I'm stunned and get nailed about 3 times in succession by the other team who was now spawn camping. Ended up going down a point then lost the game. I back out of the game lobby and flee my office. I asked my fiance what he ate and how long had it been dead when he ate it. She looks at me and says: "Oh, I gave him my leftover brussel sprouts." She fed the dog the vegetable world's version of  a WMD.

I lost a game of Grif Ball to a gas attack. Moral of the story: I'm not sure there is a moral, just thought it was funny.

Later.