My evening snack of Pepperoni Pizza Combos and Reeses Pieces caused a large amount of flatulence that my fiancee deemed “unacceptable” because it made the bedroom smell like “we are trying to sleep in a large sewer pipe!”
Despite my best efforts to control the stink, the stink continued unabated. Within 15 minutes I found myself with a pillow and blanket heading to the couch.
At least the dog came with me.
This reminds me of a bit of wisdom: “He who farts in church sits in his own pew.”
So blaming it on the dog didn’t work? The dog going with you just proves that dogs love stinky things.
I’ll remember this the next time the boyfriend has a similar problem.
Please tell me he wasn’t licking his lips.
The dog was jumping around all crazy like, like she always does right before we give her a treat. Perhaps she thought that some kind of really yummy treat was on the way.
When this happens to my husband, I’m the one who kicks myself out of bed.
The smell that this normal sized man can cause is horrendous. I can’t sleep, all I can focus on is that soon there will be another cloud of stench rolling over me.
However, if he keeps making jokes about ‘someone getting lost of the way to bed again! tee hee!’ when he finds me on the couch…the gloves will be off!
Here girl, want a biscuit?
My dog died in February, so I can’t blame it on her anymore. Blaming the cats just isn’t the same…
It should be - catfarts are FOUL. My neighbor’s 8-pound cat used to put my 80-pound dog to shame.
Sorry about your pet.
She was old, sick, and past her life expectancy. Nothing to be sorry about, but I appreciate the sympathy.
With Boxers, you have volume and potency. Not only that, but she could belch like a drunken fratboy; I know of what I speak for I used to be one.
Cats are just potent. But they have other entertainment value, like twisting around to lick their butts and falling off the bed.
One benefit of marriage. You don’t have to defer to her bed vacating demands.
True, you don’t.
Just pray that the missus is unfamilar with the phrase, “Justifiable Homicide.”
And I thought finding out there was no Santa Claus was disappointing.
Sure, sure…“control” the stink. I think not; if you’re anything like my hubby you took great pride in your “accomplishment” and were fluffing the covers to spread the malodorous scent. You were lucky you weren’t booted out to the garage!
My dog as my witness, I swear that I was squeezing the ol’ sphincter as tightly as I could. However, with so much gas pressure building up, there was simply nothing more that could be done to prevent gas leakage.
This evening my fiancee asked me to go to one of the local bars to enjoy several orders of fried cheese balls and beer with her. I will laugh with the laugh of a hearty, rugged lumberjack if she tells me to vacate the bed after asking me to go with her to eat fried cheese and drink beer!
“HaHa!” I will say, “HaHa!”
My husband gets out of bed and runs to the bathroom when he feels a gas attack coming on. I love him. 
The only time I have to head to the couch is when he’s snoring like a chainsaw and my usual stop-snoring methods aren’t working. (Waking him up is not a preferred method.)
Around our place, farts are appreciated! Well, at least by me. As long as I don’t try to Dutch-oven the wife, she is pretty good about my gifts to the ozone layer.
Like FH, snoring gets one of us to the couch if we can’t get the other to stop. I have my methods of getting her to stop, and she has so far resisted the urge to stop me with a pillow! 
Our cats pass some serious gas.
At least that’s what my wife says…
Catfarts are the worst - I was once trapped with two cats who were nervous about the car ride. I arrived at our destination a lovely shade of green!
I don’t believe I am familiar with the term “Dutch-ovening”. Dare I ask what it means?