I’m not sure what it was about my diet over the last several days but it’s given me enough gas that I’ve been having to leave my computer and trudge down to the bathroom about four or five times a day just to bust ass. Frankly, I was getting a little tired of it. It’s not a short distance and the echo produced by the tile walls makes the sound much meaner, angrier that I think they rightfully ought to be.
So this last time as I was headed back down there yet again, I looked over there to the left and there sat Dave, all preoccupied with what he’s doing on his computer. Since his back was to me I thought “Hey, I can just go fart on his head” and save myself another lengthy trip, not to mention the unpleasant amplification.
Now the only reason I was willing to do this is because a) Dave’s a guy, b) I’m a guy, and c) my stuff’s been pretty dry today. We know each other. He won’t mind. I walk up quietly behind Dave, turn back toward the door, bend over and push.
Ever shoot a load of warm doodie into your shorts right next to a guy’s head? Dave jumped up, yells “What the fuck!” and then “Aaaaargh” when the cloud hit him. He said it sounded like someone shaking a half empty bottle of orange juice at him.
I didn’t know what to say. I’m back in my office now putting rubber bands around my trouser ankles. Pre-planning my trip home I know the windows work and there’s not too many curves to negotiate. Still, it is hot out.
Is this all a joke? Did this really happen? I think I’m going to woof cookies. And no, I won’t do it on my male coworkers.
Maybe it’s because I’m gay, but I’ve never understood the whole straight-guy-buddy-buddy-we-get-a-kick-out-of-broadcasting-our-bodily-waste-functions-for-others thing.
I feel like such an idiot. I’m trying to eat a blizzard, and start laughing really hard with a mouthful of it. I cannot control this, and on top of it, I’m in a quiet office. Snorking blizzard really loud, and damn near choking to death.
Jeez, lieu…I think I’m in love.
Well, you see, Qazzz, we don’t really want to know. I want to suspend my disbelief and hope that all of lieu’s Sphincter Follies are real. If you examine these things too closely, they lose all their glitter and glamour and magic.
Ah, more quality pooping action from the king of poop stories. I’ve missed lieu’s threads of late. “it sounded like someone shaking a half empty bottle of orange juice at him” - nice!
That’s the beauty of it Khadaji! Reading Lieu’s posts are like walking into a time machine. Where all bodily functions are hilarious. This stuff is funnier than a four-year-old sitting on the curb doing arm-pit farts. Seriously!
