Rancid Farts & B Money

An unpleasant odor permeated my apartment for several days, and with each new day it progressively got worse. We rummaged through our refrigerator looking for out of date food and we even checked for dead animals in our cupboards. And walking in one evening with the rest of my roommates, I brilliantly discovered what the smell reminded me of: rancid farts - bitter, sour, potent farts. And this smell continued to saturate everything in our apartment.

That same night of labeling the smell, we heard a knock at our door. I don’t know what any of us expected, but it was not a shaggy homeless man with sacks full of clothes. Like an unwelcome Santa Clause, he opened the door he proceeded to let his overflowing bag fall into our apartment. Matriarch Lauren, despite her fear for her life and her virginity, spoke to the man and Cari and I tried to keep our laughter down. It was not a homeless man - it is the B Money!

Who is B Money? He’s an institution in Provo - he’s the snoop dog of Provo. Everyone knows B Money.
Notorious or not, Lauren spoke to him like she was speaking to a child. She tried to explain that we were not interested in buying B Money shirts, nor did we want to hold his t-shirts for him in our apartment. Leaving our apartment B Money turns around and states bluntly "by the way your apartment reeks!" There it is...my brush with greatness and celebrity in Provo, Utah.

This may be one of those instances where you had to be there, but our stomach muscles hurt from laughing so hard.

Here's B Money's video on Youtube. It's entertaining, in a pathetic sort of way. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SlGh64-l4IU

By the way, my apartment no longer smells of rancid farts. That same night we solved the problem: it was the trash.

I would also like to draw to your attention that with this post, I no longer have any posts from London on my page. Single tear.