In French bakeries, you can buy a cake called a “pet de nonne” (nun’s fart). I could never bring myself to ask for one of those when I lived there.
A few weeks ago, I was a guest at a friend’s home. We were expecting to watch a hockey game, but the live feed didn’t do whatever it was paid to do. So there we are. And our hostess introduces “straw-armpit-farts”.
There is videotape of this event. I think the current payoff is sufficent.
Well. I don’t find them all that funny. I don’t know why. It’s like the lowest common denominator of humor. I guess I’m uptight. 
They just seem so unbecoming of a person. I’m always so embarrassed when I do it (which is rare.) I have to try and pass it off with a sneeze. Ugh. I don’t even like admitting that I ever do it. No, I very much don’t find it funny. I don’t even like the word. See? I can’t say it. But I support others’ right to enjoy them and laugh at them. As long as I don’t have to be in the room.
I have to admit I find this thread amusing, though.
Oh, and for those who wanted a Spanish euphemism: tirar un pedo
(the infinitive verb form.)
They are not funny. It is infantile to laugh at or about them.
Sorry, that’s just the way it is. I’d tell you to get off of my lawn, too, but you aren’t on it.
By the way-- people slipping and falling isn’t funny either, and not because it is malevolent (which it is). It is not funny because we are not amused.
PS-- Never say or write “sammitch” or “boobies” either. You sound like a slow-witted seven year-old when you do.
Thank you, that is all.
–the Management
I meant to write “not because it is malevolent to laugh,” in my last post.
How are farts not funny?
When they turn out be nonfartinal, e.g. a shart. Unless said shart is yours, in which case it is still funny. 
Way. It’s possible that one escaped while I was sleeping, but there are no reports to confirm that (who could tell, with all the farting and snoring from his side of the bed?), so I’m sticking with my original statement.
I’m with the OP - I don’t understand bodily function humor. Even when I was in 5th grade I didn’t get, as an adult I *really *don’t get it.
“Good one, sweetness! That one sounded just like an angry duck!”
Oh, how we laughed.
It might be an amusing sidetrack to describe our favroite sounds for them.
BRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT
Fwump
Ditditditditdit
Bweep
HOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNKKKKKKKK
Fzzzzt
Mostly correct, but you used the wrong accent:
Pèter:
je pète - I fart
*tu pètes *- you fart
il/elle pète - he/she farts
nous pètons - we fart
vous pètez - the group of you (or formal you) fart
ils pètent - they fart
You are correct that it is pronounced like the e in “bet”, so it therefore uses the accent grave. The one you used, accent aigue is pronounced more like a “long a” sound, or “ay”.
So … you’re saying there’s no such thing as halitosis?
Tee hee - the BF and I have both come down with horrible colds, but something about his or the V8 he drinks or something has turned him into a veritable fart maching. Seriously, I think he’s pooted out a whole complete other person by now! Yeah, it’s getting increasingly hilarious.
d’oh! Wow, that’s what I get for being a lazy typist. It was a typo the first time that I cut-n-pasted all the way down. :smack:
Do I get partial credit? It *has *been 14 years since I’ve taken a class or spoken French.
Along the same lines, my brother mastered the cough/beer-can-pop conjunction in the movie theater. His imitation of the sound of a can being popped is worthy of conspicuous placement in the Sound Effect Hall Of Fame.
Heh. That reminds me:
Farts are not always funny . . . at the time. I’ve told this story before, but this seems like a perfect time and place to repeat it.
After having a colonoscopy, duing which a large quantity of air was introduced into my colon to stretch it so the fibre-optic camera could see in there, I was led away from the “operation room” to another room that looked more like a large hall containing several gurneys. On all but one of the gurneys were other patients of both sexes, who had just undergone the same treatment as I had. I was told to get on the empty gurney and, with all the others, to begin releasing the air from my colon.
There was no odor from these voluminous farts, since every colon had been cleaned out enough to safely pack sausage in, but there was considerable noise. As much as possible all the patients were lying on their sides with backs to each other. The nurse was moving from patient to patient encouraging everyone to release the air, saying things like, “That was a good one!”
In spite of the embarrassment, because there was some pain involved with the air that had been pumped into each of us, we strove to follow the nurse’s orders. The room was a veritible symphony of farts. Un-funny farts . . . at the time. When we cleared the room (so to speak) no one looked anyone else in the eye. At a lineup, none of us could have identified anyone.
Afterwards I thought the whole thing was howlingly funny. But while it was going on it was definitely not funny.
I swear the above is true. It happened at the Kaiser Hospital on Sunset Buoulevard in Hollywood, CA, maybe seventeen years ago.
I’m probably one of the few people who don’t think they are funny. I need my humor a bit more sophisticated and cleverly done than what a 13 year old boy finds hilarious.
Farts are indeed funny but not the “follow through” ones.
Happened to me once