I’m off sick today due to some gastrointestinal distress combined with the bug that my all-to-friendly co-worker spewed onto me the other day (JOHN - I hate you!!!)
I just farted (loud and proud, thank you very much).
Holy Mother of All Things Holy.
It stank like nothing I have ever experienced before. I wouldn’t be writing if it wasn’t some other-worldly, Twilight Zone-worthy, ET-like-scientists-arriving-from-FEMA-in-contamination-suits stank. I was amazed (and dazed - still somewhat confused) at how pungent my insides can make the outsides.
This was the stink biscuit extraordinaire.
I pretty much followed my regular eating regime, so I’m thinking the foulness is definitely illness-related.
Anyone else care to share (so to speak) their flatulence factotums?
Not a tale of my gastro-intestinal woe, but rather being the victim of my nephew’s stanky ass. LilMiss, myself, my sister, and my nephew had gone to see a movie after dining at a particular buffet style restaurant (OCB).
We’re driving home, chatting about the movie when my nephew quietly giggles (he was 20 at the time - and giggling like a little girl). Aw hell. We start rolling down the windows, but it was too late. The ghost of Old Country Buffet reared it’s nasty head and decided to suffocate us going 60 down the freeway. Words cannot describe the rancidness of the air. The open windows weren’t clearing the stank. We had to pull over to the side of the road and air ourselves and the truck. LilMiss and I were gagging, tears rolling down our faces. My sister was dry heaving while simultaneously yelling at her son.
A time ago, I wandered downstairs to check my daily digital correspondence. I sat at yon terminal, leaned back in my chair and began a-typing. Suddenly, from the depths of my very soul came a pain of extraordinary measure, and with some immediacy I began to sweat. The furious nature of the pain began take hold, and migrated to my chest and upper abdomen. Being a rescuer of persons in distress my own self, I took this as a sign that there was trouble afoot. Perhaps, I thought, I was having the Big One™.
I leaned forward and reached for the telephone, to summon medical assistance from my brothers and sisters, I began to dial, first 9, then 1, and then, with no warning what-so-ever, and with all due audacity, let loose an air biscuit that to this day echos in the tiny space of the first floor of my tiny abode. It was a rapacious BBBRRRRAAAAAPPPPAAAADAAAPPAPAAAADAPA gastrointestinal concerto that went on, with no embellishment, for a solid 15 count, with minor aftershocks following. After which the pain and sweating subsided, and I went about my merry way, living to correspond another day.
I accidentally Taser farted a 5 year old Snow White last weekend. Next time I’ll know not to mix Crybaby jalapenos and mimosas because all that does is combine bad gas will a sleepy anus and, unfortunately for all the birthday princesses in attendance, eject the mix out nose high to a kid. You know how sometimes it seems youngsters just start crying for no reason? Well, maybe they have one.
At least your farts have a beginning and an end. This woman I work with seems to have a perpetual leakage. At first I was in a small room with her and another woman and I couldn’t figure out who had the gas. But then she popped into my office followed by her fart & perfume smell (can’t beat that!), then I had a meeting with my boss, who’s office the farter had just come from. The office was unbearable and my boss had left to go have a cigarette I assumed. I waited for the air to clear before venturing out again.
Several years ago my family and I were cleaning up my back yard after a kid’s birthday party. For perspective purposes, my back yard is about 3/4 of a acre. My uncle’s ass suddenly issued forth the gaseous equivilent of a nuclear bomb. We all had to run inside to escape the stench. That’s right, he cleared the entire outdoors!
A doctor once gave my colon a good search. In order to do this, I had to go 24 hours without eating and then he inflated me with air. Yes, the air had to come back out through the shortest route. So when I sat down in my car as I was leaving, I let out a fart that lasted 45 seconds straight. Yes, I counted. The saving grace was that there was no smell since I was “Clean” from the lack of food. But wow. 45 seconds.
Years ago I worked with some sick bastards. When we would work the overnight shift they would try to out do each other. I saw many dinners of cabbage, sausage, beans, boiled eggs and the ilk.
Me, if I eat a lot of shrimp I smell so bad I can gag myself out of my own car.
Ivylad was posted to a submarine when he was in the Navy. They used to rate farts, based on loudness, odor, lingering quality, and length. It was a source of pride to him that he managed to clear out the sonar shack one memorable day.
Disugting?!?!
Og, I’m losing it…
I meant disgusting for all of you keeping points at home…
<<sheepishly running away while being paddled by my English prof… and farting>>
True, but what makes them so ‘icky’? The ‘pull my finger’ mentality or the ‘smell it’ mentality? Agreed, the two seem to go hand in hand, but I’d much rather pull someoneone’s finger than have to smell it afterward.
The fact that men can find farts so amusing. Don’t get me wrong, I love my men, but I’d be completely and irrevocably humiliated if I cut one loose in public. Which I don’t. Ever.
