“Toot toot” is usually something we say to Quinten when he lets out one of his farts. We get a laugh out of it, and he probably considers rolling his eyes at us, and maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll have some variety of fragrant mess to clean up at some point that evening when the gas is passed and he gets down to business.
This time, however, I use this phrase to signify that I’m sort of tooting my own horn a bit. I finally made a sort of real all about Katrina page. No more two sentence flippancy about my being the shiny and pregnant robot of doom. Still shiny, working out the robot bit, and definitely not pregnant anymore.
So yeah, toot, toot. Passing the gas. Perhaps something substantial on the way.
