Picture, if you will, this scene:
I'm sitting at my desk, responding to a number of emails and about to concentrate on design work. All of a sudden, a deep rumbling gurgle emanates from the area of the living room. The dogs start carrying on and whining.
Is it an earthquake? Not in Georgia. Had some wild creature found its way into the house? Not really. It was Dear Fiance, performing an unprecedented belch for the entertainment of the dogs. And in spite of myself, I laughed. Hard.
Now this isn't our usual sort of behavior. We're not rednecks who'll swill down a 12 pack of beer and produce gutteral sounds for the lowbrow entertainment of our friends and family. We walk upright. Mostly. We have never even owned a bug zapper.
What is it about men that causes them to rejoice in their rumblings so much that they must share with the other animals around them? Is it a modern Call of the Wild? I wonder ...
I'm sitting at my desk, responding to a number of emails and about to concentrate on design work. All of a sudden, a deep rumbling gurgle emanates from the area of the living room. The dogs start carrying on and whining.
Is it an earthquake? Not in Georgia. Had some wild creature found its way into the house? Not really. It was Dear Fiance, performing an unprecedented belch for the entertainment of the dogs. And in spite of myself, I laughed. Hard.
What is it about men that causes them to rejoice in their rumblings so much that they must share with the other animals around them? Is it a modern Call of the Wild? I wonder ...
