My wife thinks it’s the epitome of horror/poor manners/selfishness to rip one in public. She gets really mad if my son (18) or I let one go in the house. My daughter is merely morified and runs away laughing, um, angrily!
I have been responsible in the past of silent attacks capable of peeling paint and killing small rodents and birds at 30 feet.
And so, it is for my own wretched amusement that as we all drive down the road quietly ignoring one another, I’ll simply say “Sorry.” out of the blue to see their reaction. No gaseous emanations are necessary.
Just as when a hand-grenade lands in your campsite/LZ/vehicle, there’s a moment’s pause when the horrid reality of the situation sinks in, then mad scrambling for safety, or in this case - air - ensues. OMG! DAD! Goddammit! all while trying to pull the windows open faster than the motor will drop them and hang out in the windstream like a cocker spaniel. Me? I just laugh my ass off.
I can’5, because our cat is known for not farting. But when she is close by during an event, I usually raise my eyebrows and go, “Hey Kitty! What the fuck was that??” as if to suggest she just possibly might have had some role in it.
It was this morning, actually, and it was maybe the loudest one ever. I gasped out an “excuse me” between guffaws; Celtling laughed until her sides ached.
I damn near felt like I needed to look for another job. The bloody thing slipped out when I got up to go to the bathroom. No sound, but its noxious effects fell somewhere between SBD and WMD. I would not have been surprised if someone had alerted the local civil service.
Quasi, no need to apologize. I never feel I have wasted my time when reading your posts. You got your point across quite well and I did find it funny. I understand if it takes more effort to get your thoughts together and get them onscreen, but it really is worth your effort because we do appreciate your posts and you as a poster. Your posts are very entertaining, and touching at times, and it is not apparent that you are struggling at all.
Please take it easy on yourself, take your time, but most importantly, take a break when it becomes tiring, but don’t doubt yourself or feel that you’re imposing on our time in any way. No matter what your state is at any particular moment, you’re one of the best contributors we have on the Dope, and any amount of time you put into your posts is worth our time reading them.
Halfway on the down escalator is the very best place in the world to let one rip. Maximum exposure with minimum dispersion! Especially if the escalator is full of people!
My father was a great one for farting, he would blame creaky floorboards, or squeaky door hinges.
My mother would try to be ladylike and not let hers out, so she’d be clenching her buh-tocks and strange squealing noises would emanate forth. She would deny that they were anything to do with her.
I used to ride a horse that used to fart when he was trotting. For those who don’t know trot is a two beat pace - 1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2. But with this horse you’d get 1,fart,1,fart,1,fart…
On one occasion it wasn’t the horse who was farting…
I always say “What the hell was that?” And look around all puzzled. Then when I’m called out on it I usually say “Yup, that was me. My bad.” By that time it’s been let go, figuratively speaking, unless it smells like a rotting carcass…then it hangs around and needs to be addressed further. Cue the gagging, running for a window, or otherwise overreacting.
He actually misremembered the details. He had just arrived home - from work or wherever - and we all had to run out to the car and get in to go somewhere.
I sat down and :::sniff::: ::::UGH!!!::::.
Then the verbal interchange he cited.
Yeah - he let one go just as he arrived home - and left it there, a lurking horror, just waiting for its prey.
I’m taking some new meds with this sort of side effect, so I can feel your pain, but I have to agree that, ultimately, “Excuse me.” ought to always be enough. Y’know, unless you’re just showing off.
Which reminds me, on our second visit to Nepal, we were combing the night markets when my hubby is just letting it rip. I am appalled. “What are you doing. Stop that!” It was our second visit and we were not afflicted with the extremely common bad belly, we’d had the first visit. The hubby answered, “I’m proud dammit and I’m going to boast!” As embarrassed as I was, I had to admit he had garnered only jealous looks from the other travelers within ear shot. “See, they’re jealous!” He wasn’t wrong.
As for it just being another bodily function, while true be careful what you practice. When I was at the uni my roommates and me decided we should never be ashamed of such things, we should just be able to rip one, at will, without consequence. And so, we did. At our house it was all farts, all the time. We would giggle and laugh and assign points for ‘beauts’ Just a bunch of immature girls rebelling against ‘girliness’.
And, of course, there came a day, when we were not in our house, we were out in the world and without thought, out of habit, just let one rip. And then turned beet red and fled! It was pretty funny. Lesson learned.
Truth is the day may well come, at some future time, when we grow infirm and cannot control such things. Why would you want to get there early? Use the control while you have it, that’s how you keep it!
