Don't fart, must not fart....Oh-so-TMI...

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
21

My two best fart stories:

When I was being treated for migraines about ten years ago, one of the medications they tried me on gave me horrible SBD’s every time I took it. It was great for relieving the migraine, but I literally couldn’t stand being in the room with myself. I told a friend about it, and he asked if he could have any extras if I stopped taking them.

When I was younger - mid-to-late teens - I used to occasionally have dizzy spells where I would nearly pass out. Usually it would happen if I got really hot - say in the shower, or if I had to wait a long time in the sun for the bus or something. I always wondered if I might have some sort of blood sugar issue, since the quickest way to recover was usually to drink a Coke. But one of the weirdest symptoms, to me, was that I would always have terrible gas afterwards. Usually just loud, not smelly, but still. Never saw a doctor for it since I was on my mom’s insurance at the time and she didn’t take it seriously enough to make an appointment for me, and it pretty much stopped when I was 19 or so.

Then earlier this year I had one. We were at the hospital with my dad, who’d just woken up from cancer surgery, and were about to leave as ICU visits were restricted to 10 minutes. Suddenly, I felt really hot and the room started spinning and the air got dark and shiny. And I had to fart. Sat down, felt a little better, made it out as far as the ICU waiting room and it happened again. Drank the rest of the Coke leftover from lunch and felt a little better, made it to the restroom and let it all out. Once the gas was out I felt fine, and off we went. I’d had to get up at 3 am to get my dad to the hospital for the operation because we’d had 3 feet of snow the day before, but once he got into pre-op I went to the in-hospital diner for a full breakfast. Then I walked across town to get meet my mom at the train station (one of us had to stay home for kitty’s insulin, and mom won’t drive in the city), again through much snow. We took the subway back and had lunch, then I gave blood (got an hour knocked off the day’s parking). I figured everything together just piled up and that’s why I almost passed out.

But, it happened again the following Friday as I was getting out of the shower. And not just farting. Luckily I have amazing sphincter control and got through the morning at work despite the ladies’ room being at the other end of the building. (I lost five pounds in roughly seven hours.) This new development had me worried, so I made an appointment with my doctor for that afternoon, and she explained after listening to my description that all this, including the farting, is a textbook case of vasovagal attack. Or as she put it, a classic silent movie hysterical fainting spell. I am the last person you would ever expect to have a silent movie hysterical fainting spell, but there ya go.

My co-workers think this is the most hilarious thing they have ever heard, and that it explains why silent movies were silent. They just want to know why you never saw the men holding their noses.

22

Name your fart: The gas is going to escape, you clench your butt to keep it in, but it escapes anyway with a loud POP! sound…Pop Farts.

23

That’s the funniest part of your stories. Heh.

24

I’ve got one fart story, which is really so much more than a fart story:

  1. I was visiting my girlfriend for the weekend. We lived several hours apart, so I was no where near able to just drive back to my own place should any problems arise. We’d only been dating for about 3 or 4 weeks, but we both knew this weekend was the end of the road for us. Regardless, I had never gotten to the point of being comfortable farting around her.

Sunday night we went out to eat, and when we got back, we basically broke up. At this point, it was late, and I hadn’t planned on leaving until Monday morning, so I spent the night. We slept in the same bed. Now, from about an hour after we ate until bedtime, I had felt an enormous amount of gas building in my belly, but had no good opportunity to sneak away for a minute to let much of it out. Every time I went into the bathroom, I couldn’t seem to let any of it go.

I looked forward to going to bed, and having her fall asleep, so I could just let it all fly. Something about being in a reclining postion is just so condusive to farting. Finally, I felt the opportunity had come for me to let loose with the gas. I sucessfully let a good amount go, but I ended up flying too close to the sun.

I felt a hot burn between the cheeks, and knew I’d committed the unspeakable, right in my newly-ex girlfriend’s bed. I wabbled to the bathroom to check the damage, and luckily the mess didn’t breach the crack. Simple wipe-up fixed everything right up.

So I went back to bed and fell asleep. At about 4 in the morning, I woke up with a bellyache so horrific, I didn’t know if I could move. But man, did I have to move. I ran to the bathroom, due to the unholy case of screaming diahrea bearing down upon me. This soon expanded into a violent episode of vomiting as well.

So here I am, in the bathroom right next to the bedroom absolutely tearing up my now-ex-girlfriend’s toilet. The noises are so freaking loud, she wakes up and is forced to listen to 4 straight hours of wretching and outrageous diarhea.

At this point-- 8am-- she has to get up and get ready for work. So I collapse back into bed while she dodges the smells and random flecks that dot her bathroom. I was simply mortified, but so spent that I just didn’t care.

She left for work, with a stinking, oozing, squirting ex-boyfriend laying in her light-pink-sheeted bed. God bless that girl.

So around 10am, I’m able drag my raw ass out of bed, pack my stuff up, and clean her battle-torn bathroom. Luckily the sheets were no worse for the wear (visibly, anyway).

The sheets in the hotel that I soon checked myself into weren’t so lucky.

Since I had a five hour drive, and I felt my colon ready to explode again, I found the nearest Holiday Inn, and rushed myself through check-in. I tore up another bathroom butt-good, and collapsed in one of the queen-sized beds. Only to be awaken very soon, very unpleasantly.

It would seem I fart quite often in my sleep (or so I’m told), and these farts I was letting loose were loaded. I woke my self up with a nasty blast to the undies not once, not twice, but four times in one afternoon. And, man, I totally messed up those sheets.

Luckily, after the frist two loaded-fart episodes, I had another bed with clean sheets to crawl into. Which didn’t remain clean for long.

The next day, that poor maid had quite the surprise awaiting her. Four stained sheets, and a bathroom trash can full of soiled men’s underpants. I left a very generous tip.

Happy

25

Damn. I was really hoping for:

Amazing Spincter Control: band name!

But I do… I had my ex-fiance convinced for a year and a half that I didn’t fart at all. Then one night I was staying at his place and exploded in my sleep. It wasn’t the beginning of the end, but things did start going downhill not long after…

26

I was minding my own business in a small shop one time when I had to let go a silent but deadly. It probably violated several arms treaties. A little later the assistant wandered by. His face registered horror. He disappeared out back and came back with a large can of air freshener with which he liberally let rip. I thought that was quite a result.

Reference the OP, I well remember a time when I was working at IBM North Harbour, in Portsmouth. They have an ornamental lake which was just the right size for a lunchtime stroll around. So I’m halfway round and release a small quantity of gas, followed by the beginnings of something a little more solid. I managed to nip the buttocks tight shut on it, and was then faced with a walk of about a mile in either direction, buttock-clenching every step of the way, before I could make my way to the little boys’ room and drop trou. The one crumb of comfort I had was that thanks to excellent buttock control, the underwear was mostly untouched.

This thread, btw, comes just as I’m seeing off a nasty tummy upset…

27

I hate to say it, because certain “reputations” might be harmed, but you, my dear, are giving Lieu a run for his money (pun intended) in your exquisite descriptions of All Things Poo™. I can only hope he swoops in to save himself, and poo stories everywhere, from a career-shattering coup.

28

Ooooh. I cringed through that story. That’s pretty brutal.

You gotta wonder just what the maid was thinking…

comes in the room
sees poo sheets
sees can o’ poo undies

If I were her, my first thought would have been, “Does this guy know how to use a toilet??” :smiley:

29

My second thought would have been that some kind of disgusting orgy had gone down.

30

<snerk> Orgy? “Gone down”? <snerk>

31

Third thought - “7 bucks an hour for this?!? I quit!”

32

A buddy and I were camping in a tent. I had brought my bird dog, but she slept outside in a hole she dug. It started raining, so the windows and door fly were shut.

Sometime in the night, I woke up and felt the need to cut a terrible Death Fart. I was in a sleeping bag, so all of the amazing concentration comes right up into my face. It smelled so bad, I started giggling, then laughing.

My buddy wakes up from me laughing and asks, “Damn, did that dog drag up something dead?” and I told him no, that was a Death Fart.

He springs bolt upright and starts clawing for the door zipper, but it’s still dark enough he can’t get the door unzipped fast enough. By now I’m nearing cardiac arrest from laughing so hard, he’s like a dying man clawing at that tent.

That, and the time me and another buddy were riding down the elevator at a casino. I busted one off at about the 6th floor, and the elevator stops at 4 for a couple to get on. We didn’t say a word, just got off at 4 and let the couple enjoy those last 4 floors without us.

33

Even the bloat from laparoscopic surgery is fun. After my bypass, I let a little one in the hospital in front of a nurse, and I was promptly discharged (you need to fart or take a dump before discharge to prove your intestines are working).

When you have lap surgery, part of the procedure is to fill you with gas to provide room for the surgical instruments. and the gas remains behind when they finish. It can be pretty uncomfortable.

After I got home, I slept downstairs in the recliner because it put less pressure on my abdomen. About 2:30 AM, I woke up with a tremendous pressure in my butt. Because of the surgery, I was confident there was nothing solid back there so I let it fly. Oh man, did that feel good. About 30 seconds later, the pressure was back, and I let fly with another. Again. And again. And again. This kept up for at least a half hour of constant farting, but when I was done. my t-shirt wasn’t as tight, and I could lay flat on my back.

My only regret is no one was there to share in the experience, so I have no backup.

34

It’s been awhile since we had a good poo/fart thread! Thanks (I just love 'em)!

35

[old joke]

An old lady goes to the doctor. The doctor asks, “So what seems to be the problem?”

“I am afraid I have gas rather badly, but in a kind of unusual way. There isn’t any noise, and there isn’t any smell either. For instance, I pooted twice just while you were examining me, but again, no noise or odor at all.”

“Well,” says the doctor, “first I think we will fix your hearing. After that, maybe we can work on your sense of smell.”

[/old joke]

Regards,
Shodan

36

You wanna talk farts, try having a colonoscopy! All night long the night before you expel EVERYTHING you ever ate in your entire life. So you go in and you’re still very gassy. Then they fill you up with liquid and air! OMG.

So I do the best I can to get most of it out there in the little radiology bathroom. Did I mention the night before? And fasting?

So I’m starving, and I go to the hospital cafeteria. Halfway through eating, the rumblings start. I practically run to the public toilet, and I have to let loose with the most god-awful, foul, LOUD farts and squishies that ever graced a public toilet! And there were old women and children in there! I was so embarassed.

I had planned to go back to work that afternoon, but thought better of it. I went home and curled up in the fetal position, in between trips to the bathroom.

37

My turn to share a story of Gas…

About 4 years ago my work sent me to our Dallas office for a week. I fly in on a Wednesday and start working at their Warehouse on Thursday. Mid morning I start getting gas and excape to the bathroom several times before noon. By early afternoon it had turned into (sort of) the runs. I think the gas was pushing the material in my intestines ahead of it in it’s attempt to get out. I leave early that day for my hotel room and proceed to suffer the weirdest gas attack I’ve ever had.

It spread to my stomach. I started burping every few minutes. At night I would wake up every few hours with my stomach hurting, almost distended from gas build up. I could have burped the entire alphabet without stopping. (If you’ve seen the movie Revenge of the Nerds, when Booger won the burping competition… I could have beat him hands down.) I’d sit up and release all the gas, then go to the toilet and do the same from the other end and go back to sleep. Two hours later I’d wake up and have to do it again.

It lasted all of Thursday night, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. My entire weekend in Dallas was spent shut up in a hotel room, sick. By Sunday it was clearing up and by Monday I was able to go back to work. I worked my ass off those two days (pun intended) because my flight back to Boston was on Wednesday and I had 4 days of work to cram into 2 days, all because I’d had gas.

38

My best and oft repeated fart story is the one about the Fart of Impending Doom ™ and it goes this way…

One morning, after a night of gustational debauchery, I awoke, bleary-eyed and gassy. I stumbled to my computer to check the days’ assignments (i worked from home at the time). To my dismay, I felt a rumbly in the ol’ tumbly, so I think, “I should just go to the bathroom now” but before I could stand up, there began terrible pains in my middle regions, accompanied by the most peculiar of sounds; an audio amalgam of bedeviled ghoul, semi truck brakes, and a cat being murdered by a juicing machine.

Just then, the pains got worse, then, they moved. Like in every first aid class ever taught, if the pain radiates, this is a sure sign of a heart attack (I was a paramedic, and it seemed like one to me). I was sitting in my chair, leaning back slightly, searching for a position of comfort. I reached forward for the phone, convinced that I was heading into the light, and help was required forthwith.

I dialed 9, then 1, and before I manipulated my other digit to dial the second one, my colon gave purchase to the loudest, longest, most horrible wind ever to evacuate my nether-throat. It was a machine-gun-rattle-stattaco racket that went on for what seemed a full minute, it wasn’t finished by the time the stench wafted into the olfactory area, and I was, at once, repulsed, relieved, and proud.

It was truly a beautiful thing, although ever since, my helpings of fettucini alfredo were limited to the times I didn’t previously drink really, really, really, cheap beer.

39

Well, I’ll be darned. I don’t know about the farting part exactly, but this is textbook what happened to me when I got to see my dad after his quintuple (!) bypass. Mom and I got to see him for about 10 minutes in the super duper cardiac unit, and all of a sudden, wham! I started feeling like I was going to throw up, pass out, whatever, got all lightheaded, had to bend over because I thouht I was going to faint. I made it as far as the bathroom down the hall before I slid to the floor, but I didn’t lose consciousness. I must’ve looked really weird, though, because my aunt commented on it at the time.

I didn’t know what the problem was but figured it paled in comparison to whatever Dad was going through, so I hid it at the time. Now I know: vasovagal attack.

Dang, that’s something. Start out thinking I’m just going to read people’s fart stories, and I come away with new insights. :smiley:

Mrs. Furthur

40

Geez this thread is great!! Where’s lieu??? :slight_smile:

I think I broke a small bone in my neck from laughing so hard. Poor Happy … or rather Not So Happy That Day Lendervedder.

(I wish I could make the Putz Smiley say “Peee-Yoooo!”)