So lieu, it can be hoped you were wearing briefs, although the rubber bands sure make it seem as if it might have been boxers. You may wish to wear bicycle clips in the future. They’re much less conspicuous than rubber bands.
Were we to ask your wife if you wear briefs or boxers, I think her reply would be, “… Depends”
Ouch… trying to chew a bite of cookie… and laughing so hard I’ve nearly got cooky snork going on!!! Youch!
2 things worse!
(sigh… childhood memories of ‘science’ … cut a fart… run like hell to the other end of the room, where the brother would do the scientific sniff test to see if farts stayed where you cut them, or if they stayed with the farter… Bet Dave is wishing the science on this one had turned out differently!!!)
Lieu, check your diet for:
Cabbage, califlower, helium balloons, BB-gun CO2 cartridges, or fizzies or Alcaseltzer eaten whole …
I’ve heard beer is the cure… lots and lots of beer…
not the cure for the gas, mindya… just the cure for caring about the gas…
lieu, you are one sick SOB. Your buddy Dave must also be a sick fuck if you felt that farting on his head is OK. I could use a couple of guys like you two in my department.
If I were Dave, I would be busy changing my diet to pickled eggs, Kim Chee, and beans, lots of beans, so that I could launch and sustain a meaningful counter-attack.
Y’know, when I saw lieu was the author of this thread, I thought, “Hmmmm… gotta be another poop thread, right?” Then I saw the thread title and was fooled – maybe it was something about a Dairy Queen accident or something, right?
I shoulda known better. 
(Masterful story as always, lieu. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to see the look on your face when you’d realized your fart had a lump in it.)
Coworker Dave should be happy you didn’t misjudge a power belch in his ear.
My greatest fear is that someday Ill need to remember the “rubber band” trick.
I too must confess to reading the thread title, and despite seeing lieu’s name as the OP, thinking it might possibly not involve gaseous/solid/liquid emissions.
I repent my loss of faith, and giggle snort chuckle once again, at the feet of the Patron Saint of Potty Humor.
[sub]Well I’m sure as hell not standing behind him. Y’all know what he did to his daughter.[/sub]
I want a friend who farts on my head.