My grandpa always said, It's better to fart and bear the shame, than not to fart and bear the pain.

Though truer words have never been spoken, I find myself completely unable to follow it despite coming from a family that delights in nothing more. Burps, farts, and poo stories are shared over the dinner table.

When we all vacation in Lake Powell on the houseboat, it becomes a game. Like when my uncle walks out of the bathroom, one of two that all 35 of us share for an entire week, holding up a plastic knife and grinning.

As in, how many cuts does it take.