woke up one night to a loud noise, then got a good kick in the back from my exwife… apparently i had cut one so loud, i woke myself up.
Riding the train from Vancouver, Canada to Seattle. Mother and I were already in a laughing mood at the guy that started snoring no more than a minute into the train ride.
So the couple in the seat ahead of us were British with two kids. After a while the boy drops an air biscuit. His sister promptly points it out in a thick British accent, “HA HA! James, you fahted!”
Oh, I forgot a better one…
I work in a casino and one of our poker dealers probably had some actual medical issues of this sort.
So he’s been dealing for about the past 45 minutes. Been really holding one in. Directly to his left, a player had just ordered a dinner. So when his down was over he pushes back in his chair, leans over and just drops a BOMB with his ass no more than a foot from this player’s food.
Guy looks like, “Did you just do that.” Dealer was mortified. Poker manager came over with tears in her eyes, “We need a comp! X just farted on a player’s food!”
Let’s see, three I can think of.
- Overnighting at a Civil War encampment, playing the fiddle just to pass the time and keep a few friends entertained. Felt the familiar rumbling pressure and figured I’d ease up on one side and let it out discreetly.
No such luck. It was one of the most impressive blasts I’ve ever let loose and the women in the immediately adjoining campsite lost it for a full ten minutes, recreating the event by singing a tuneless melody and blowing raspberries at the appropriate moment.
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Drinking at a bar on a crowded weekend night with my GF at the time. Produced a tremendous SBD (or at least it was silent in relation to the crowd and the music), and a few minutes later my GF is looking around wondering why people had suddenly left the area when she catches a whiff. I just sat there grinning.
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Putting my younger (barely 2 years old at the time) stepson to sleep, let one rip. A moment of silence, then I hear one of the first sentences I think he ever came up with: “Ha ha, you farted.”
I’ll save the asparagus schnapps story for another thread.
This happens to me too! I bet if I did something really horrible right now, within seconds a co-worker would appear and find some reason to put their face next to my ass.
Mine is second-hand, but worth telling anyway. When I lived in Baltimore, I took guitar lessons from a great player named Carl Filipiak, who was also a childhood friend. One day he called me to let me know that a great saxophone player would be sitting in with him at a club that night, and that I should make a point of being there.
The sax player was a really nice guy named Ron who had played with some big names, including Dizzy Gillespie. During a break, he told me a story about Dizzy. He said Dizzy was a very generous band leader, making sure that all of his players got some time in the spotlight. In fact, Gillespie had a habit of walking to the side of the stage or into the wings while anyone else was taking a solo. So one night they’re doing a concert in a theater, not a club, a big place with over a thousand people in the audience. Ron is in the middle of a long solo, and realizes that Dizzy is walking toward him. He walks over, stands next to Ron for a couple of seconds, and then walks away back to the wings. The whole time, Ron was playing his solo as best he could and wondering what the heck Dizzy was doing. Then the aroma hit him; Dizzy had walked into the spotlight in front of all those people to share a fart.
We were at a concert. Forget what I ate, but I felt the pressure building shortly before the opening act. The concert went long. After it was over, I made it to the urinal and let out a tuba blast of basso profundo, lasting three to five seconds. One urninal-mate, out of sight, commented loudly “he didn’t want the girlfriend to hear THAT one” with general chuckles all around.
I finished my business, washed, etc. Met my waiting friends outside. They all said, “Did you hear the guy that farted that everyone coming out was talking about?” I had to embarassedly admit (who am I kidding PROUDLY admit) that it was me.
Wandering through the exiting crowd we heard repeated snippets of “you should have heard it, man was it LOUD!” and like comments. It still comes up as a topic of conversation amongst my friends to this day (this was four years ago).
Off topic, but this reminds me of a anniversary card I didn’t have the guts to give my wife: Wife says to the husband, “So, ya wanna do the nasty?” Husband, obviously coming out of the bathroom, replies, “I just did… you may want to stay out of there for a while.”
Says quite a bit about being married for twenty years or so.
Back in 3rd grade, my friend and I fell for what’s probably the oldest fart trick in the book.
My friend’s older brother raced into my friend’s room and says to us, “Man, I think I split my pants, can you check?”. We lean in to look, our faces about 4 inches from his ass, when he lets rip an enormous blast. I could swear my hair moved from the breeze. And of course, it stunk to high heaven.
Fart Game #5: Catching the pets
Me: I’m telling you, I didn’t fart, it was the cat.
Her: No way, cats don’t fart.
Me: Can’t you smell kibble? I don’t eat kibble.
Her: It’s impossible for cats to fart.
Me: Wait, wait, I think I see a fart coming out of the cat’s ass.
Her: Naw, she’s just having a kitty drea…OH MY GOD!
Me: Told ya. Kibble.
Best username/post combo in the thread. 
Wearing my iPod in public is creating a new problem - I can’t hear my farts, but everyone else can. I have to keep in mind that it’s not polite to fart audibly in public - for some reason, out of hearing/out of mind seems to be happening to me.
Fart Game #6: The Fart Hall of Fame
Me: Remember that one fart I made after eating a Costco polish sausage hot dog?
Her: I don’t think it was as bad as the one in the shower.
Me: Oh, you mean “the steamy fart?” I wonder what would happen if I ate another hot dog, with garlic, and THEN farted in a steamy shower?
Her: laughs You’d better warn me beforehand.
Me: Don’t lie, you’re going to be first in line to smell the glory, aren’t you? It’s no fun without witnesses. It’s going to be historic.
A few rental houses ago:
Mr. Horseshoe & I had re-painted upon moving in, and the landlord wanted to see the results. He stopped by the house while I was on my way home but hadn’t made it there yet. He had left by the time I got there, but I knew he was there because a) I was on the phone with him when he walked in the front door (“Oh! I … hope the next tenants like green!” You knew it was green, jackass, you approved the paint!) and also because of …
Oh. My. God.
The stench.
He must have walked through the whole house and crop-dusted the entire place. I don’t know what the man had eaten, but it was vile. Room after room. After room!
So I’m walking through the house, discovering wave after wave of stink, and the whole thing made me laugh harder and harder. By the time Mr. Horseshoe - who was only a few minutes after me - got there, tears were streaming down my face. I don’t know what made it harder to breathe, the stench or my hysterical laughter.
Mr. Horseshoe: What’s wrong? What’s so funn-- holy shit, what is that smell?? WHAT HAPPENED IN OUR HOUSE?!?
I was at the theater with a bunch of friends to watch The Incredibles. There was a little kid on my right, but he was quiet and well behaved so I didn’t pay him much attention. Until…
You wouldn’t think that a kid that small could produce something that vile. This fart wouldn’t peel the paint off the footlocker – it would dissolve the damn thing, paint and all. My eyes were watering. I was squirming in my seat when my friend to my left turns, mouths “what are you doin…” then it hits him. He recoiled like someone slapped him in the face.
When I was little, I had a friend who would constantly come up to me when I was playing on the floor, squat, and fart in my face. One day, he was on the floor playing, and I had to fart. “It’s my turn!” I thought with triumph. I moseyed over, dropped my pants (I didn’t want any of my clothes blocking the smell), squatted over his head, said, “smell this!”
…and shat upon him. :eek:
On the positive side, he never farted on me again.
Fart Game #7: Fartrizon
Me: Whoo wee, can you smell that one?
Her: Nope, it’s too far.
Me: wags ass around How about now?
Her: Nope.
Me: waves hands around, trying to fan it towards her How about now?
Her: Nope.
Me: takes off my shorts and flaps it in her direction How about now?
My wife gives it a 9.5/10, and you know she’s an expert on fart humor.
Fart Game #8: Babel Fish
Her: Do you want to go to see Sex in the City this weekend?
Me: bwooooooooot! That’s my answer.
Her: So we’re going?
Me: Here, let me translate: bwoot.
Her: Is that a yes?
Me: No, that’s a no…A ‘HELL NO.’
I was in my late teens in a car with some friends after eating “Manwich”, the tomato sauce hamburger meat combination. I felt so sorry for the guys in the car because it was the worst farts I ever had in my life.
I was in a band in the mid-70s. We had little success, but had a lot of fun failing. I always say we made a better comedy troupe than a band.
As guys will do, we entertained ourselves with various forms of humor, scatological and otherwise. Most certainly, as guys will do, we had no compunctions about letting a good fart rip when the occasion arose.
But one night, the girlfriend of one of our members came to watch us practice. We were all standing around outside afterwards chatting when I unthinkingly cut an enormous (and very loud) one. I simply forgot to, er, censor myself in front of an unaccustomed guest. Most embarrassing!
She ended up marrying the guy, and they’re good friends of mine to this day. I’m hoping she’s forgotten that little incident over the years.
Two stories:
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High school health final. Cute girl a few seats ahead of me lets one rip in a COMPLETELY silent room. She starts blushing, and for the most part everyone is polite about it and not laughing, until our stodgy lesbian health teacher (think a less cute, not at all funny Ellen Degeneres) says “EVERYONE does it.” At that point the whole class loses it, save poor mortified farting girl.
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My husband and I are on a layover returning from an all-inclusive vacation where we’d basically spent a week having a Roman orgy minus the group sex. Lots of food, lots of booze. We’re lost in an airport that’s under construction and end up on a 2nd-floor hallway, overlooking a railing. My husband farts, and it’s a stinky one. “I just dropped a bomb in here!” he proclaims. I look over, and we’re right next to the open door of the TSA office. Thank God nobody heard him.