[QUOTE=MyFootsZZZ]
It was just a shitty situation. QUOTE]
Har Har (slaps knee)…bad pun intended?
OK. I was unnecessarily harsh to MyFootsZZZ. I’m ashamed to say that I found humorous the thought a love-struck moment, with semi visible red-pink hearts and winged-cherubs, spoiled by an Evil Fog of rancid chili-gas with a hint of undigested peanuts & corn.
I’ll go to Confession right after work, as the cafeteria has a special today on chili buritos with black beans. (Hey, in for a penny, in for a pound… :eek: )
IT WAS MEEEEEEEEEEE!
Sorry, MyFootsZZZ. That really stinks.
Quietman1920: “Forgive me father, for I have farted…”
Priest: “UGH! So I can see, er… “smell”! You couldn’t have waited until you left my booth!? Jackass!
Obviously, you´ve never met my mother; during the past months I´ve been a bit worried that in any moment a squad of Coalition troops would storm the house wielding blipping gizmos and saying in the radio: “Affirmative, we´ve found the WDMs”
Oh gosh–I’m laughing out loud at these. I, too, have the sense of humor of a 5th-grade boy.
One day I was at Mervyn’s while my sister was trying on a pile of clothes. I smelled just the most rank disgusting aroma I think I’ve ever smelled before. I moved away, but the smell kept following me. I tracked it to a family of 4, and from that point on tried to stay out of their way. While I was fleeing to the other side of the store–mentally cursing my sister and wishing she’d hurry up–a couple walked by, and looked at me quizzically, as if they were wondering if it were me. I pointed at the guilty party, they nodded, and all was well.
I believe the technical term for this activity is “crop dusting”
Or I could just be full of shiat.
“Crop dusting”? That’s so perfect…
Since this has metamorphosed into a fart story thread, I have one to share…
As I mentioned before, I am lactose intolerant. I usually can avoid the things that are going to cause trouble, but sometimes I just have a bad day and develop a “problem”. One of these days occurred not too long ago at work. I answer the phones, which basically means I need to stay put. I also sit between an elderly woman and a bathroom, so I figured I could slip out a few little ones if need be without anyone being able to identify the culprit. This I did. One more thing I need to mention here is that I have no sense of smell, so actually I have no idea what I might be unleashing. (Well, they felt little.) Anyway, the day went on and from time to time, when I just couldn’t hold out, I did what I had to do. That afternoon, the building mechanic showed up. The elderly lady had placed a work order for him to come by because she kept smelling sewage and she thought perhaps something had broken in the bathroom. She had never even asked me about it because she knows I have no sense of smell and of course, sweet pretty little chicks like me never emit such foul odors. The building mechanic was unable to sniff out the problem, and naturally, I was not about to own up! :o Sorry, Mrs. C!
I did a ghastly, horrid drive-by on our receptionist the other day. I homebrew (lots of live, active yeast!), and drink it to excess, especially when eating Corned Beef and Cabbage. Well, let me tell ya, I laid waste the this joint! I think she was going to start crying! 
One time, years ago, while I was in the motorcycle business (and drinking just as much beer), I absolutly polluted the shop while standing near a new bike that was being assembled. Me and a couple others guys were laughing uproarously about it when one of the shop helpers comes in and asks whats up. I spout a lame story about a recall on the brand-new bikes and how the company could be so stupid for screwing things up. I told the kid, “Go look at the serial number on that bike over there!”. Dude walks over there, bends over and inserts his head in a cloud of funk so wretched, you could almost see him turn green!
Fagjunk Theology: Not just for Sodomite Propagandists anymore!