A bunch of guys I used to work with in a warehouse setting used to find it funny to back a guy into a corner, fart, and then try to keep them pinned in the corner. One of these friends “Jim” and I during lunch hour liked to go into Barnes and Noble while it was dead and read magazines. Jim had his face in a cycle magazine and I wandered down to the other end of the rack. I was startled by some comotion and when I looked up Jim was apologizing profusely to an older woman who was walking away with a disgusted look on her face. He then approached me quickly with a beet red face, grabbed my arm, and said “we have to leave now”. Upon getting outside Jim said he thought I was still next to him and decided to do the “guy joke” thing and walk backwards into me, backing me into a corner, and then farting on me. He said he was terrified when in mid chuckle he looked up and saw me at the other end of the rack.
Bwhahahahahaha. Ooh. That’s priceless.
I can SO see me doing that, though.
Before my wife and I were married, I wasn’t even aware that she even passed
gas. I guess that’s where the "honeymoons over " saying comes from , because
after that , it was on. We have a saying at our house . Don’t walk around with
your mouth open , because the taste lasts longer than the smell.
Years ago we took my brother to the airport (‘we’ being a few of his friends and myself) to go back to college after his visit home. We first took him to a restaurant for Mexican food and margaritas (he doesn’t like flying much so the alcohol helped take the edge off).
Well, he was pretty well liquored up by the time we got him on that plane. That evening he called me up and told me that after getting seated he pretty much fell asleep and didn’t wake up until they had arrived at the gate. I guess he’d been relentlessly bombing the people sitting around him because he woke up and the stench was bad and got nothing but glares from those around him.
He tells that story proudly to this day.
I had a bad gas attack on a flight from Daytona Beach to New York. I desperately was trying to keep it in but the pressure grew and grew. We had a stopover in Charleston SC. While waiting for passengers to get on I couldn’t take it anymore so I burned a long one deep into the cushion, or so I thought.
My Dad was sitting next to me and looked at me like I shat my pants. The stench was unbearable. A young boy and his father were seated behind us, and I hear the kids say quite loudly “Pew it smells in this airplane daddy!”. My Dad did all we could from bursting out laughing.
I’ve told this one before, but it’s worth a repeat…
It was Christmastime about 13 years ago. I was sitting on the couch with my then 3-year old son next to me. My mother was on the other side of him. We were watching one of the new movies my son got for Christmas. Long about then, I felt the pneumatic pressure build. Figuring the cushions would make an adequate filter, I snuck one off.
No good. The stench meter pegged.
My poor innocent son, trapped next to me, obviously noticed it, but then he turned to my mother and asked, “Bama fart?” (He called her Bama.)
She got all flustered, even moreso when I pointed at her and said, “That was you?”
Still makes me laugh.
Skydivers fart like crazy. Go up in an unpressurized plane to 13.5k. Sometimes it was like a trombone parade through a cheese factory.
I was at the Beverly Hills Hotel with my newly wed wife at the age of 24 in 2006. She was laying on the bed as we were waking up and after getting dressed stretched her legs and did the most enormous fart ever, we had been dating for 4 years.
I have the farts all the time and let it rip all the time.
I have (not obnoxiously) and so have the women that i’ve dated. Of course it takes time before comfortable enough. It never bothered me, even if they reeked. It’s just funny. I have noticed that once the open farting starts, that coincides when the significant other tries to change you. My most recent ex would not sleep next to me if I ever had French Onion soup, if she did she’d be really wary. Go ahead, eat french onion soup (canned will do it, if not worse than restaurant kind). I dare you. Even if you’re alone you get a horrible friendly-fire situation.
I farted in front of my first wife a couple of months into dating, and she said “Great! Now I can fart too!” Gotta love the upbeat attitude!
…15 years later, after she had her stomach removed and was undergoing chemo (so her digestive system was just operating in a totally abnormal fashion), we were waiting in a hospital room for her next round of chemo and she released some awful, noxious, vile, putrid gas that was so foul we couldn’t help but laugh out loud (“oh my god, what did you do?” in mock panic, etc.)…probably oxygen deprivation was playing a part in our uncontrollable hysterics. A nurse poked her head in the room and said cheerily “What’s so funny, you two?” and then made a face and beat a hasty retreat, which just set us off some more.
I’ve been laughing at this thread so hard I had tears. I’ve never understood why farts are so funny, but of course they are.
I can’t imagine being married to someone I wasn’t comfortable farting in front of. Mr. Middon and I think nothing of letting one rip, although we do try to warn the other if it seems necessary. “Uh, if I were you, I’d get upwind.”
Sometimes one of us lets a SBD slip. The other will say, “Jeez! Did you fart?”
Which invariable gets the old punchline: “Of course, I farted. You don’t think I smell like this all the time, do you?”
My husband and I felt comfortable farting (among other bodily functions) from the night we met.
But when I was very young, my youngest aunt lived with us for a while before she married. One night she had a date with a really great guy, and she invited him in at the end of the date. So they were sitting on the sofa, and the strong smell of a fart wafted over them. Each of them assumed it came from the other. She was about to ask him to leave, when he said good night and left. It was then that the curtains behind the sofa moved, and she discovered the dog under the couch, farting away. She never saw the guy again.
Think about it.
It comes out of your ass.
It stinks.
And it makes a funny noise.
Of course they’re funny!
Zombie farts are the worst.
I do not fart in the presence of other people. Not even my wife.
Be careful farting on the police.
Anyone else notice that the story that resurrected the zombie references 2006, which is when the thread died the first time?
I guess I’ll hazard to be the oddball…while my spouse and I aren’t uncomfortable or embarrassed if we happen to fart in the presence of the other, I think we tend to avoid it when possible. It’s ‘happened’ plenty of times, but I can’t think of a time when one or the other of us leaned up on one cheek and let rip.
I’ve never been in the ‘farts are funny’ boat either, but tastes (urp) may vary.
Before we leave the topic, I’d like to suggest this book.
My sister gave it to me several years ago and I really enjoyed it. Who knew there were so many cultural references to farts?
I felt comfortable farting in front of him by the time we moved in together.
It was pizza night, and I ate WAY too much. I tried holding it in, but it had a mind of it’s own.
He laughed, I laughed, life is nice. Now I just let it out when I need to. He doesn’t mind.
I read a lot of war history and also stories of “survival against the odds”. I’m intrigued by shipwrecks and disasters and wars and the tales of heroism and bravery that emerge from these tragedies. I’m glad that I’ve never had to face any ultimate tests in my lifetime, but I also can’t help but wonder how I well would stand up if I had to and if I would have what it takes to survive or save others.
One day, around 2000, my wife and I were visiting my parents at their home in Grand Bay, New Brunswick. We were in the elevated living room, looking at old photo albums. It was a quiet, sunny day – the unassuming kind of day that is beautiful and begs to be seized, but by the same token is calming and peaceful enough that one doesn’t seize it and feels only contentment in the relaxing whiling away of the hours. It was the kind of beautiful day that a dog would happily spend snoozing in a sunny spot near a window, which incidentally is exactly what ours was doing at the time a few feet away.
All of a sudden, Nina let rip a massive fart. If farts can be rated by the four criteria of loudness, stinkiness, distance travelled, and hang time, this one was a 4 out of 4. It had it all. It was a perfect storm of flatulence. I was at ground zero and that fart wasn’t going anywhere. It was bad.
The sound was enough to wake up the dog, and the smell enough to tell him it was Time To Go. During his hasty exit from the living room, he passed my mom on the stairs that connected it to the rest of the house. My mom innocently walked into the living room, completely unaware of the scene she was entering.
As she strode up to the couch, she cheerfully announced, “Hey, your dad just lit the barbeque if you want to –“
She stopped dead in her tracks as she hit the wall of that invisible cloud. Time slowed down. Nina froze in horror, and in slow motion my mom’s face turned to an expression of simultaneous shock, confusion, and disgust.
My entire life crystalized before me and I knew without a doubt that “This Was It”. When I got up that morning, it had been the furthest thing from my mind, but we don’t get to choose our time and place. It chooses us. This was my time and life would judge me for what I did next. Manifest Destiny.
As Nina looked on paralyzed, I took action. I looked at my mom and said, “Sorry Mom”. My mom’s shock and confusion abated, leaving only disgust as she looked at me and said, “Well you should be.” She then turned to Nina and said, “I don’t know how you put up with him.” Then, like our dog, she got out of there as fast as she could, leaving me, Nina, and the fart alone again.
This is the most heroic thing I have ever done.