My younger brother was the master of farting. One of his favorite pasttimes when we were in high school was to come into my room and fart in front of my floor fan – which was pointed into the room, of course.
…
And recently, when my brother and his new wife were visiting me, we were in my car going somewhere. A friend and I were in the front. Brother and wife in the back. All of a sudden, there was a seriously foul smell in the car. Friend and I exclaim my brother’s name simultaneously, the obvious perpetrator. But then, a small female voice pipes up from the back… “Sorry!”
Ok, you bookstore farters-- I fucking hate you people. I was about to post about this very phenomenon There’s nothing like slipping into a set of stacks and setting up to systematically look at what’s there, and some guy is, just as I arrive, bashfully slipping away around the corner, like I’ve interrupted something, with an apologetic look . . . and then the smell hits me. I think ‘eww’ and start to leave that set of stacks, and two more people just them arrive to look at the same books and probably think I AM THE ONE who farted.
I hate you fuckers.
I have the same farting response around books, except I do it most often in the university library. There’s nothing more satisfying than going up to the top floor on a morning when no one’s around and letting out one so loud it makes the pages curl.
Terrance: I’m sorry, Scott. Could you hold on a minute?
Scott: Sure. [Terrance raises his left leg, places the receiver between his legs, and farts on it. He and Phillip laugh as he lowers his leg]
Terrance: How do you like that, Scott?!
Scott: You son of a bitch. I’ll get you if it’s the last thin-
Terrance: Oh wait, I have another call on, Scott. Can you hold on?
Scott: Sure. [Terrance raises his left leg, places the receiver between his legs, and farts on it. He lowers his leg and resumes talking]
Terrance: Oh, that was Barry Smelly. He says ‘hello.’
Scott: Goddammit!
Terrance: Oh, wait a second, Scott.
Scott: Sure. [Terrance raises his left leg…] I mean, no! You listen to me! If you want to save Canada, you’ll meet me at Karl’s Kroff Dinner Restaurant in half an hour! [hangs up]
Oh God, I’m in tears and my throat is sore just from cracking up at this thread.
Damn, I wish I could find this weird little magazine I saved somewhere called Feh! The Journal of Odious Poetry , because there was a brilliant poem in one issue about farts. Right now I can only remember one line:
Last night I was in my bedroom, with my dogs sleeping on their beds in the far corner of the room. I’m peacefully lying on my bed, laptop in… well, my lap, perusing the SDMB. Then I hear it.
“pfffft”. “Which one of you two mutts was that?” I inquire. They both look up at me, all innocent. Then I hear it again. “pfffft”. The insolence, to fart so blatantly after having been questioned over it. Another one. Finally I determine it is Dog #1. I turn my head to Dog #1 only to hear Dog #2 let fly. I turn my head to Dog #2, only for Dog #1 to resume. They were taking turns!!!
This would be fine if their farts were sweet, lavender-smelling posies. But no, fellow Dopers, these were rancid half-digested kibble farts. And by the time I saw fit to pull the covers over my head and hide like a little girl, it was too late., The smell had permeated into the air under the covers, into the doona, into the atmosphere of the room. There was no escape!
As I lay there, head buried under the doona, inhaling kibble farts, I swore I would, the next day, kill both those mutts. They must’ve figured something was up, because, despite farting for THE REST OF THE NIGHT, they felt it in their best interests to let me sleep in this morning. Just as well. Their mutty butts were almost history.
Max
PS this thread has had me screeching with laughter!
Velma, Skerri and I need to form a “Fartless Forever” support group. I guess it’s because I come from a non-farting family. Never heard either of my folks fart EVER. The fart loses its cuteness after about age 8. (Not the fart itself, but the farter).
Good lord. My family is FARTCENTRIC. AT THE DINNER TABLE no less. It’s maddening. Whenever my sister or I would fart, my dad would look over at us and say,
One night I was sleeping like an angel in bed when I was awoken by a horrible stench. “Ugh!” I said to myself, “I have a disgusting husband with a stinky ass!” The next day I found myself alone in the office so I took the opportunity to relieve myself of some gas and it smelled exactly the same as the stench the night before. The stench that I blamed on my husband.
Yes, I layed such a stinky fart in my sleep that I woke myself.
My ass once sent me a warning of impending doom - I let out a fart that sounded EXACTLY like the ICQ incoming message noice “Uh Oh!”…
My girlfriend has IBS, so going to bed late at night after she’s been in the bedroom, warming it up for me can be a horrific thing to endure. Ever had to walk into a hot, stuffy room full of the stench of the ripest, fruitiest farts? Gagworthy, let me tell you!
Whatever you do, never fart when you come. It wasn’t even a big ripping one, just a duck’s quack in an airhorn world ("go, go, go… quack), but it totally wrecked the moment (surprised?) For some reason, my wife thought of Dale Gribble, and I had to listen to her impersonate him for the next hour.
[sub]Uh, having said that, can I just… never meet any of you? Is that ok?[/sub]
My boyfriend does his “Ninja Fart Toss” all the time. He farts in his hand then throws it in someones face. It doesn’t really get thrown, but you understand what he’s trying to do.
My b/f also likes to fart VERY loudly and say OW!!! Makes me crack up. He also will fart in my truck and then turn to me and say “TAKE ME HOME!!!” Which cracks me up to no end.
I do admit to farting. What I’m known for mostly is my sleeping farts. My boyfriend says I’m like a symphony when I’m asleep.
I’ve also used **jarbabyj 's ** method of making quiet farts. I do that when I don’t want anyone in the vicinity to hear I’m farting. Its funny though because I thought I was odd to be spreading my ass cheeks to fart.
We had some neighbors over for wassal and a cheese ball last night so I kinda had to cut a festive fart this morning. Problem was I was at work and I didn’t want it to affect our group’s productivity, so I decided to negate the smell’s effect by lighting it upon release. I already had my legs propped up on the desk so I just lit a long stemmed fireplace match and put it next to ol’ brother bung.
Well crap, I’ll be danged if that cheese ball wasn’t working it’s way out in the form of a turtle-necked yule log, and we all know how flammable those can be, especially when they’re born from Port 'n Cheddar.
Okay, so everybody’s walking past my office door to see if I want to go to lunch and I’ve got a flaming post sticking out my butt and they all say “eeew”.
Everybody was pointing fingers at first but now things are cool because our manager came in and he says as long as my ass yule log continues to burn, nobody has to work. So I’m kinda their hero today but in a really different sort of pseudo-historical way.
“There was a young fellow from Sparta,
A really magnificent farter,
On the strength of one bean,
He’d fart God Save the Queen,
And Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.”
The question remains unanswered: Who is the “somebody” jarbabyj has in mind to stop the farting?
An Anti-Farting Czar? Would this be a cabinet-level position?* Think of it - legions of civil servants clad in protective suits and gas masks, wielding methane detectors in public places to detect and arrest the gassy offenders.** And for punishment we could lock them all up together.
*John Ashcroft deserves the right of first refusal.
**I see a remake of Fahrenheit 451 with a slight plot twist in the offing.
As a Fellow in good standing of the Order of Unabashed Flatulentists,
I am glad to see so many others deriving innocent fun from bodily functions. Another way of sharing the moment is to fart into a zip-lock style plastic bag, seal it, then at the right moment pop it open in the face of a friend.
The following bit of verse is from one of the Demon Prince novels by Jack Vance (tho’ I don’t remember which one)
A farting horse will never tire,
A farting man’s the man to hire.
