Friday evenings I go to a fitness class after work. The room is small, so it gets crowded. Doing push ups is a little like playing Twister– you have to maneuver yourself to avoid touching anyone. I somehow found a spot where my head was close to a guy’s mid-section. I kept my head down and my eyes on the floor to avoid any awkwardness. It worked in keeping me from feeling too uncomfortable, but then the dude farted. His ninja fart sneaked up into my nostrils as I was gasping for air mid push up. O.M.G. Why? Why me? Why did he have to fart in my face? And we were only on push up number 2 of 10. Usually when I do push ups, I don’t make those manly workout grunting noises. But this time I did, and I exhaled as much as I could with each breath. Dammit. Is it Friday yet? Shit, it is Friday. FML.