[Nick Frost]
Sorry, Shaun.
[/Nick Frost]
On a road trip, I was sleeping in the back seat with my arse facing the front seat when I woke myself up with a fart. The smell, not the noise. Pretending to be asleep, I listened to see if my fellow travelers suspected me and learned that they blamed a truck in front of us for the toxic fumes. For ten minutes, I feigned sleep while I discreetly let gas fly. For ten minutes, they blamed the truck. At one point they discussed whether rolling down the windows would help, but as the fumes were coming in from outside, they determined it wouldn’t help. I got to giggling, which of course just caused me to release more gas. Then the truck exited and the fumes stayed. For five minutes they continued to blame it on the truck. Then they started to look my way, but I continued to sleep soundly. ahem I got to giggling so hard, my whole body was shaking and that’s when the passenger realized I was awake.
We still laugh about that. And we are all women. Good times, I tell ya’.
I knew there would be some awesome stories! I don’t know what disturbs me more, that I never really realized how many fart-related stories I actually have, or that now I really want to share them. Ok, just one:
In high school I went shopping in a neighboring town with some friends one Saturday. There were 5 girls in the car, counting me of course. Two were close friends and the others weren’t really close, but I knew them. We had lunch at Taco Bell (first mistake) and then walked around a few stores for a couple hours. Then we had a 45 minute drive home…
Well, we’re talking and laughing and I realized…oh no. I’m trying to hold it back, and finally, it settles by itself without emerging. Then a few minutes later someone says something funny and I can’t keep from laughing…and out it slips, burning and silent. Well, I think, at least it’s quiet, right? Maybe they won’t notice.
No.
The driver makes a face and glances around. The girl next to me glances back and forth at us. The front passenger starts coughing. “What the hell is that?!” “I don’t know, but I’m rolling down a window!” “Was it you, Kelly? That’s gross!” “Me? NO! Why’d you ask me?” Chorus of denials. A few giggles. A few gasps of air. A heavy silence. My guilt builds.
I say, “Ok ok, I did it!”
They all think it’s the funniest thing ever and the driver finally asks, “Why did you tell us?! We didn’t know who it was!” “I don’t know! I figured everyone else knew it wasn’t them and it would be worse when you figured it out!”
End scene.
I also knew, if I let the thread settle long enough, a comment like this would emerge. Now I’ve got warm fuzzies.
Love that one, jarhockey. 
My two personal bests:
The day the lady in the cube next to me called maintenance because she thought there was a busted sewer line in the vicinity.
The time when I was working the breakfast shift at McDonalds. A co-worker passed through my cloud on her way to the hashbrown station and busted out with, “OO-weee! Ah think them AIGS done gone bad!”
BTW, love the ads at the bottom of this message board. They are: “Free Fart videos at AmazingFartVideos.com”; “Relieve Excessive Gas”; and (my personal fav) “Dog has bad gas: Is your dog suffering from bad gas? Better yet, are you suffering?”
Talk about target advertising.
That’s beautiful. Unfortunately (fortunately?) I don’t have any stories. sigh I work in an office by myself.
A public farting oldie-but-goodie.
Read this old post.
I love the Gas X ad…“I see you’re flatulent in three languages.”
Listen ladies, I’m not sure you realize it, but all of you fart uninhibited while you’re asleep. Every girl I’ve ever been with, has torn major ass while unconscious. I’ll try and drift off, when all of the sudden, I’m startled to the sound of someone ripping a hole in space and time (apparently to the Jurassic area, over the rotting T-Rex corpse in some tar pit). Then I get dizzy and nauseous. I look over, and she’s blissfully unaware that she about snuffed out the delicate life that resides in her SO.
Also, why is it anytime I need to rip one in public, it trails behind me, like I’m towing the month old carcass of a Tibetan Yak? At mouth height, none-the-less.
cmyk, now you’ve got me wondering if farts are sentient. Hmm.
Back in the college days, I was telling my dad about my ichthyology professor, P____ Fitzsimmons. Dad says “Fitz? We were in the Scouts together back in the '50s. We used to call him Fartsimmons because he could fart on command. We’d be out doing something and one of the gang would point to Fitz and say ‘Fartsimmons!’ and he’d just let one rip. Great guy. Say Hi for me.”
So I get back to classes and go up to Dr. Fitz and say, “hey, you were in the Scouts with my dad. He said they used to call you Fartsimmons.”
Without missing a beat and with no further explanation on my part, he looks at me with a half wink and says “you know, I can still do it, too.”
We know we do this. We are ashamed. We will deny.
Great stories!
Growing up my brother and I were pretty close, so when I moved back home, we did the bar circuit the weekend I got unpacked. Friday we get ripped. Saturday I go pick him up, and my mother warns me he’s killing flowers and making puppies cry (cue for silent but deadly). We get in my car to head back to my place to pick up my roommate and her boyfriend. All the sudden my brother starts laughing, not loud, but his whole body is shaking. Next thing I know I’m gasping for air. I couldn’t get the windows down fast enough. He’s now got tears rolling down his face, his body is still shaking, and he’s having trouble breathing from his laughing fit. The green fog wasn’t moving out the opened windows, it just hovered there in the front seat. I was 3 blocks from my house when I had to pull over to throw up.
To this day, some 20 years later, he loves to tell that story at any gathering we are at. The guys all high five and the women shake their heads. His wife refuses to fart in front of him. There is a reason he’s been called Stinky since he was 10.
I’m not a gassy person to begin with. And I have never had a report of unconscious farting from my side of the bed. I will deny to the death!
OK we’re all friends here. I’m 99.9% in the Kalhoun Camp when it comes to lady farting. My children have known since they were old enough to know ANYTHING that, catagorically, Mothers Don’t Fart.
However.
I had in my bedroom a diaper pail for my young son, because that’s where he slept and that’s where I changed him. This fact shakes my persnickety bachelor brother-in-law (PBBIL) to his very core because it seems like every time he’s visiting, his little nephew has a whopper and diaper-changing ensues. He usually trots in to watch and make peanut-gallery type comments (being as he’s not the one who has to do the changing and never will By God.)
Anyway, the stench of the pail, when opened, usually sends him running from the room. It is indeed a hideous, yet well-contained, stench only released for the millisecond it takes to whip the offending diaper inside and snap the lid closed. Ten minutes later the room is aired out. PBBIL, however, seems convinced we live with this stench on a daily, continual basis.
So, one day PBBIL wanders in just as the diaper-changing festivities are wrapping up and which, unbeknownst to him, had not yet included The Opening of the Pail. The festivities, did, however, include a hideous, On Par With the Pail whopping emission from yours truly, the Mother Who Does Not Fart.
“Good God! How do you all stand living with that SMELL in your bedroom??” he asked, reeling from the room.
The secret of the true identity of the odor had remained, until this moment, a secret I had intended to take to the grave!
I was working in a jewelry store back 20-some years ago when a young mother pushing a stroller with her precious baby in it stopped by to look at watches. While bending over to retrieve a watch from the front of the case, just a small SBD puff escaped. I nonchalantly continued explaining the features of the watch we were looking at. She suddenly sniffed a couple of times, wrinkled her nose, looked at her dear sweet infant, and said, “Gee, I think you need a new diaper!” She then left the store to find the nearest restroom but, oddly, she never came back to get a watch. Oh, well!
This thread is starting to make me realize just how truly insideous farts really are. They indeed might be the underlying cause to a lot of unsolved and tragic cases. They take people off guard, temporarly disorientate them (if not incapacitate), and eventually might lead to feelings of indignance or anger. In the wrong circumstance, they literally could be silent but deadly… Killing, then leaving no trace…
If this hasn’t already been a CSI episode, it should be.
Its because you are doing it wrong. Let it rip, count to ten, and then move away.
I can only assume it was God, in his infinite wisdom, that decided there wouldn’t be DNA in a fart.