#30) You’re in bed, and the covers sudenly are on the floor…
Woohoo! I won a gold medal! I’m going to brag to all my friends:
“I got a gold medal!”
“Cool! What for?”
“Um…”
SkinnyGuy: Your sis is definitely a winner, fartwise.
- You successfully deflect Hurricane Debbie from South Florida
My dog used to be able to cut farts so vile that they would wake people up from a sound sleep…
The funniest story I've heard was when my Dad was at the grocery store waiting in line to check out, and gently eased a silent one out, which polluted the entire checkout aisle. Two spaces ahead in line, a mother started chewing out her young child saying "Bad boy! You know better than to poop in your pants! You don't get to watch Barney today! Bad!", and the little kid started crying and saying "Mama! Mama! I didn't poop in my pants! Please!.
What was he supposed to do= fess up that he farted on everyone, or let the kid suffer? My brother and I howled for a good 30 minutes when Dad confided this story to us.
Mom didn’t think it was funny though…
Definition of a “surprise”:
A fart with a lump in it.
(No, I’ve never been “surprised.”)
But! I had a friend who was very disturbed by body fluids and solids. He didn’t even want to look at a condom he’d just used. His wife told me that he had a “surprise”… nothing major, just a hard little ball. He pulled off his tighty-whities, holding them in both hands. He looked at the little turd and… vomited in his underwear!
Same guy, years earlier. San Diego Comic Convention. I wondered into the men’s room and headed for the last stall (it’s a guy thing). There was feces on the toilet seat, on the floor, on the walls… and it was obviously not from the same person. A fair bit of vomit, too. I guess people get drunk enough not to care. I took another stall, and my friend came in a minute later. I could hear him retching as he walked away from the ghastly scene.
Same guy, between the two events. Really had to go. Made an emergency stop at the nearest place, a Sizzler restaurant less than a mile from home. He came out about 10 or 15 minutes later and said that his “deposit” was especially foul. A man with a small (about four years old) boy came in. The boy smelled the atmosphere, saw my friend coming out of the stall, put two and two together, and stared at my friend in horror.
At a local fair: My (ex-)GF and I are at the petting zoo. There’s a little two-year-old girl who sees a goat. She happily, giggling, goes over to pet the goat. Just as she reaches the goats hind-quarters and pets it, the goat lets one rip. The little girl started crying.
Sometime in the early-80s. Winter. Dad and I are flying a neighbour’s adolescent daughter up to her mother in Oregon. The girl had had chili for breakfast, and was sleeping in the back seat of dad’s Cessna 172. We’re at about 10,500 feet and the outside air temperature is 20º below zero F. Suddenly the air became unbreathable. Cessnas have these little “soup can” vents where the leading edge of the wing meets the windscreen. They take the 120mph air and bend it 90º twice. It’s still pretty strong. Dad and I opened them and let the frigid stream blow directly on our faces. Passenger continued to sleep peacefully.
I had a roommate who once passed gas so foul that it woke him up.
you’re not sure if the smell is the fart, or if the dogs have crap all over the house.
A childhood friend told me that this happened to her and I don’t think you can make something like this up. Apparently her BF at the time was, um, worshipping at the Shrine of Bliss, and just as she was about to have an orgasm, she let one rip right in his face.
#1. handy takes notice.
Yes, my friends & talked about this for years. They agree.
Yeah, gas is NOT supposed to be lumpy.
One day at work, mine was! 
Fortuanately, I was real careful, because it was on of those days where I wasn’t quite sure whether I should or not. This time was a not! I was outside burning one and had to scrurry, butt pinched, to the mens room. When my upper thigh started to get wet (one time boxers at a disadvantage), I really scurried!
It’s a lot funnier now than then!
Once you’re 40… never trust a fart!
Cheers!
The stench is so bad that your eyes water
If you’re over 40, never trust a fart
We always called these “dingleberries”.
Slightly off topic, there’s nothing like letting one rip in an empty elevator, and knowing you are leaving that little present for the next passenger. Course you’d prefer they not be a good looking woman waiting to get in while you step out.
Even better is when you get to the bottom of a 1st - 45th floor express elevator & cut one in there… they’re stuck with it for 45 floors!
Dinsdale: unless you’re in the position I was in today. I got on the elevator on 8, and seeing that nobody else was on, let one rip. Normally I don’t laugh at my farts when I’m alone, but this was a good one. My eyes were tearing up from trying not to laugh and it stunk. Handy would be proud. Guess what! Yep. The elevator stops at 6. This woman starts walking toward the doors, gets one leg in, almost touches down and then pauses. The smell hit her. Her nose kinda rumpled up a little bit and she gave me this really disgusted look. Without putting the leg down, she pulled it back and let the doors close. I must have looked insane to the people in front of the elevator on 1 because I was laughing my ass off. I was embarassed, but it was funny all the same.
Welp, that’s my fart story of the day. Anybody else have a recent one? 
Stop it, Aglarond, you’re killing me!
Well, I’ve been through my asparagus schnapps story once around here somewhere so I’ll leave that one alone. Mrs. O has a good one that bears repeating, however:
She’d consumed mass quantities of prune juice for some reason and was out with her SO at the time, watching a street magician in a fairly crowded square. She lets one rip and not 3 seconds later the fellow next to her (an innocent bystander) roars, “Whoa, that’s a crowdbuster!”
Apparently it was like the Pepe Le Pew cartoons where everybody suddenly realizes the skunk has shown up in the middle of the crowd. One second there’s people there, the next nothing but a cloud of dust and a few bobby pins spinning in mid-air. She and the SO were impressed; I don’t think the magician appreciated losing his audience like that.
As for me - well, a week or so ago I let one rip in a semi-conscious state. It brought me right out of sleep and I started praying hard that it wouldn’t wake Mrs. O up. Then I started praying hard that she would because I was afraid she was gonna suffocate in her sleep.
I’m guilty of this, too. :o We unfortunately had to close the Shrine of Bliss down for a few weeks after that, and it was never the same again. The incident led to our eventual breakup - it’s not what you are thinking, though - I dumped him for not being able to laugh when stupid stuff happens.
I’m always curious about fart etiquette. In an elevator or other social situation involving strangers, it seems that the perpetrator and the victims just try to pretend it didn’t happen. It took me a long time to learn this, because I was taught to say “excuse me” as a child. My family are notorious farters = we actually had a rule that if you had to fart at the dinner table, you stood up and walked over so that your butt was facing the “back room” off the kitchen, and you directed your fart thither after an “excuse me.” I thought this was what everyone did, so I brought this strange custom to school with me. One day in class, I had to fart, so I stood up, went over to the classroom door, and farted into the hallway, with a loud “excuse me!!!” to my puzzled teacher. The teacher eventually asked me about the habit in private (I fart A LOT!) and had to choke down her laughter when I explained. I mean, what could she tell me? “You need to just fart in your chair from now on and pretend it didn’t happen?” She smiled and said okay, so I kept doing this until the laughter of the other kids clued me in, like, six years later.
Did I mention that my family is notoriously gaseous? On Saturday nights, for some reason, we would always have hot dogs & beans for dinner. On Sunday mornings, we would always have to get up at the crack of dawn for the 8:00 a.m. mass - before we’d all had a chance to um, process everything. My mom, unfortunately, always made us sit in the front row. My little brother, the one with ADD, would be fidgeting all over and cranking out loud bombers. My older brother would creak out the silent-but-deadly variety, and then hold his nose and point to me. I would hold them in as long as possible until they exploded, Chernobyl-style, usually on the walk up to communion.
My mom, of course, NEVER farts.
I thought “dingleberries” were something else: Back in the 70s, some Latinos in L.A. liked to put fringe in their car windows. The fringe was made up of yarn with a little ball of yarn at the bottom of it. They were called “dingleballs” (or so I was told). I suppose dingle comes from dangle; hence, “dingleballs” = “dangling balls” – which they were. And “dingleberry” would be a small dingleball. (Am I putting too much thought into this?) So when I read “dingleberries”, I thought they must be little fecal balls attached to the butt-hair of a person who didn’t know how to wipe well.
Besides, “he had a surprise” sounds better than “he got dingleberries”.
Loved that story Magdalene. I, too, come from a big fart family. My Dad’s could bring up the dead. We, apparently, weren’t as cultured as you and simply pushed our seats back from the table before letting go. My dad always told me, “Mike, always say excuse me when you lose pressure”. According to my mom, though, she doesn’t fart, she puffles, and therefor never joined in on the fun. Anyway, I still have a fond childhood memory of walking into my parents’ bedroom late at night, seeing my dad laughing with tears rolling down his face, and my mom frantically waving the bedspread and sheets trying to disperse the smell. When she saw me standing in the door way, she yelled for me to run to the living room and grab the new can of air freshener. I don’t know why, but she never found farting funny. Some people have no sense of humor.