Also, since we’re on the subject. My ex once ripped a loud honker as I was worshipping at the Shrine of Bliss. She told me later she was really relaxed and it just went. She wasn’t getting. The thing lasted like 4 or 5 seconds, and was one of the really, especially funny ones that wavers in pitch as it goes. She got mad at me for laughing. We didn’t try again that night, but the next time we started fooling around, I pulled out a pad and pen and asked her to write down everything she’d eaten over the last 2 days. She was pissed and ended up breaking up with me a couple of weeks later. She said she wanted to play the field some more and couldn’t handle my sense of humor. Oh well. Somebody will show up eventually. 
“She wasn’t getting” was supposed to read “She wasn’t kidding”
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”.
This thread is right up there for laughs with my most controversial thread:
A SUV and BMW almost collide. Whom do you laugh at first?
http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?threadid=35549
Please keep the cards and letters coming folks. You’re all batting a thousand. I will confess to the following:
I have farted loud enough to wake myself out of a deep slumber.
Once, while bicycling on my ten speed, I felt a genuine tire inflater of a blast coming up. Standing on the pedals and coasting, I elevated my nether regions and cut loose with a definite “Full Scale Trumpet Fanfare”. Waiting on a nearby bus bench was a young girl, who screamed, “Eeeww, that’s gross.” To this day, I do not know how I maintained control of my bike.
We shall close with the question:
How can you tell when you’re getting old?
Your dreams are dry and your farts are wet.
I shall now dry my eyes and go have some more chili for lunch. Wonderful material folks, keep it up.
That reminds me of another nifty fart story. A few years ago, I went, with a group of friends, to Graceland. If you’ve never been there, it’s important to note that the tour is basically linear, and, although the structure isn’t rigid, you tend to keep in close proximity to other groups throughout the tour.
Partway through the tour, we walked into an awful stench. Everyone in our group having imbibed copious amounts af cheap beer the night before, we immediately began pionting fingers at each other, particularly at the couple guys who had been notable offenders in the past. Everyone, however, denied being responsible for polluting the King’s home. These being guys that are normally pretty proud of their “handiwork”, we had to look elsewhere for the source.
After a couple repetitions, we settled on a likely candidate in the group in front of us. Then came one of Olentzero’s “crowdbusters”: One second we were all shuffling along like sheep, the next second a twenty foot diameter circle cleared out, with everyone milling at the edge like Floridians at the lip of a sinkhole. It took a couple minutes for anyone to get up the nerve to cross ground zero. Wow! We let the offender keep well ahead after that.
The coup de grace came a little later: One of our group looked down and noticed a glob of shit adhering to the toe of his shoe. Hmm; wonder where that came from? Not really wanting to walk around for the next 15 minutes with crap on his shoe, he carefully wiped it into a wide brown arc on the carpet of Elvis’ trophy room. For weeks after, we kidded him about desecrating the King’s memory.
Ahh…finally a thread I can relate to!
My entire life I have been…well, let’s just say “creative.”
Shotguns, squeakers, silent, and this cool little vibratto that…never mind.
I recently developed a lactose intolerance that has inspired bouts of gastric creativity severe enough to make ME leave the room afterwards (no lie! I’ve even had my cats yowling in distress!).
Shortly after I discovered what milk does to me and those around me, I was waiting in line at a drugstore, trying to hold one in by clenching my cheeks like a newbie in prison. There was a 5-year old kid behind me, making noise and being pretty annoying.
Perfect height.
“What the f***?” I thought, and blasted him right in the face.
He ran away crying.
I officially nominate this thread for Threadspotting - it’s the funniest thing I have ever read here! Don’t stop! More stories!
On judging farts…Hang time is KEY…My personal best is 45 minutes. ::buffs fingernails on shirt…Who da man?!::
Fifth grade…Mrs. McCluskeys class
All the students in the class were taking the state tests,you know the “fill in the circles with the #2 pencil” test.It was just after lunch where I had consumed 18 dried apricots on a dare.(hey,it was fifth grade).I had to let a mean one rip,but tried to sneak out an SBD ((silent but deadly to all you layman)).Well,it didn’t work…it was LOUD…it was LONG…it was HIGHPITCHED. The teacher couldn’t tell who the culprit was,but class was in an uproar.The smell soon wafted to the front of the room,Mrs McCluskey smelt it…I never saw a prim little old lady move so fast.She tried to open a window,but they were all stuck.She had to let us all take a break and evacuate.
I got one.
After my brother visited me from Las Vegas where he went to College at the time we had a couple of hours before he had to get on the plane. Well, we went to a mexican resturaunt and had a big lunch and he had a ton of margaritas. So I take him to the airport and practically pour him into the plane. I called him 45 minutes after his plane landed to see if he got there ok. He told me that he got to his seat fine and passed right out. After they landed and he woke up he noticed that there was a terrible smell and the people around him were shooting him glares wherever he looked. He must have been bombing them the whole flight. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt all day.
How rude of cranky to give you a commercial and not give a link…
http://www.adcritic.com/content/smart-beep-first-date.html
you’ll need quicktime to watch
It suprises me that no one has linked to this yet:
http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?threadid=34045
Isn’t ironic how the world’s most intelligent message board, made up of the smartest people from around the globe still has room for fart jokes? And the fact that we all laugh our asses off (no pun intended) is equally shocking. I guess a high IQ does not diminish the effects of great potty humor. No matter how superior our race becomes, “Pull my finger” will always get a laugh. Always.
It’s nice to know the classics will never die.
A couple of years ago the family + my sister’s (then) boyfriend went to a local restaurant that shall remain nameless for her birthday. The meal went fine.
As we were getting up to leave there was this horrible sound from behind me. It was loud, it was long, and it vibrated the divider between our booth and the next. For half a second I thought it was my sister’s bare legs rubbing on the vinyl seat, but then I met her gaze and realized…that there was a great sigh of relief coming from the booth behind.
Somehow, she and the BF and I all managed to make it out to the car before we burst out laughing. And we hoped that the person was dining alone.
I can’t believe I still have this, but I recieved this as am email joke a few months ago, and nealy peed myself at the time… its long but great if you’ve never heard it before…
Once upon a time, there lived a man who had a terrible passion for baked beans. He loved them, but they always had an embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction on him. One day he met a girl and fell in love.
When it was apparent that they would marry, he thought to himself, “She’ll never go through with the marriage with me carrying on like this” so he made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans. Shortly after that they were married.
A few months later, on the way home from work, his car broke down and since they lived in the country, he phoned his wife and told her that he would be late because he had to walk. On his way home, he passed a small cafe and the wonderful aroma of baked beans overwhelmed him.
Since he still had several miles to walk he thought he would walk off any ill effects before he got home. So he went in and ordered three extra large helpings of beans. All the way home he farted. By the time he arrived home he felt reasonably safe.
His wife met him at the door and seemed somewhat excited. She exclaimed, “Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for you for dinner tonight!” She put a blindfold on him and led him to his chair at the head of the table and made him promise not to peek. At this point he was beginning to feel another fart coming on. Just as his wife was about to remove the blindfold, the phone rang. She again made him promise not to peek until she returned and went to answer the phone.
While she was gone, he seized the opportunity. He shifted his weigh to one leg and let go. It was not only loud, but ripe as a rotten egg. He had a hard time breathing, so he felt for his napkin and fanned the air about him. He had just started to feel better when another urge came on.
He raised his leg and rriiipppp! It sounded like a diesel engine revving and smelled worse. To keep himself from gagging, he tried fanning his arms a while, hoping the smell would dissipate. Things had just about returned to normal when he felt another urge coming. He shifted his weight to his other leg and let go. This was a real blue ribbon winner; the windows shook, the dishes on the table rattled and a minute later the flowers on the table were dead. While keeping an ear tuned in on the conversation in the hallway, and keeping his promise of staying blindfolded, he carried on like this for the next 10 minutes, farting and then fanning each time with his napkin.
When he heard the phone farewells (indicating the end of his loneliness and freedom) he neatly laid his napkin on his lap and folded his hands on top of it. Smiling contentedly, he was the picture of innocence when his wife walked in. Apologising for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked at the dinner table. After assuring her he had not peeked, she removed the blindfold and yelled “SURPRISE!”
To his shock and horror, there were twelve dinner guests seated around the table.
Democritus shared: To this day, I will “percolate” for hours before trying to sneak one out.
Ohhh…now you tell us!! All the time you were sitting in your back porch with that inflatable chair of yours during the Santa Rosa BBQ dopefest, I thought the noise I was hearing was just your chair deflating!!!
…good thing I was sitting upwind!
Osip, you must know that you are entirely to blame for this. Your thread is where I first posted my original, “How To Tell You’ve Cut A Winning Fart” pick list.
See:
http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?threadid=34045
Until then, as the Aussies say:
“Who opened their lunch?!”
Q: Why do farts stink?
A: So deaf people can enjoy them too.
A: To warn the deaf!!!
I’m having way too much fun, kill me now…
so, you ever do a ‘dutch oven?’
You fart & then you pull the blankets up above the head of the person next to you.
If anniz did this, it would be a ‘swedish oven’
A couple of years ago I took a sign language class. The instructor was telling us how deaf people applaud. She said, “After all, deaf people enjoy things, too, so they like to show their appreciation.” I leaned over and whispered to the student next to me, “And that’s why farts smell”.
Every time we’d look at each other throughout the rest of the class we’d get the giggles.
So, I am entirely to blame huh?
I spend years reading and studying Soviet poetry, Anyone impressed?..
I eat at Krystals and share the “end result” of my day and
it produces a spin off thread of Flatulance stories.
Mayakovsky be damned! Pull my finger!
Osip