Will Somebody Please Stop the Farting?

The BBQ Pit
141

If I can stop this laughter and wipe tears from my eyes long enough to type this,I’ll try to contribute to this impossibly long,can’t stop reading thread.It’s already consumed my whole night’s entertainment budgeted time.
First **Diane and Handygrll **. You Mom’s are really twisted,I thought I had the only one.

As a youngster,one of our peers commented about our voluminous gas passing at what she thought was inappropriate times,such as in restaurants,school cafeterias,and other public places.Says she “I’ll bet you don’t do that at home in front of your Mother at the dining table”.My brother retorts,“Hell,she leads the downbeat to the symphony”.

I was a little embarassed about my Brother’s truism,so I shot back,“Yeah,but don’t think we’re not raised * sans * manners”,hoping to stay in good graces with a potential sexual conquest, “we have a strict rule-no farting during dessert”.

Another GF in my past exclaimed during a rather windy post knockwurst and kraut feast.“I know you’ve got to fart now and then and I’m not trying to be prudish about it,but give me a little consideration during your outbursts and leave the room when you have to”.

I had to say with all honesty “We might as well call it a night now,because I’ll never see you if I’m in another room all night”

An uncle had a credo he seemed to adhere to pretty religiously.“Where ever ye be,let your wind go free”.
A little sidetrack-but why is the discussing/reading of fart stories so funny?If it was about other bodily functions it wouldn’t seem near as hysterical,and in some cases,downright vomit-inducing to me.

Probably should have a thread of it’s own.

142

I do this thing called drum corps - kinda like hard core marching band. We get about 30 minutes to eat, and do anything else that needs to be done, such as pack and do our “chores”. Add to this the 10 minutes we wait in line for food, and needless to say, we have to bolt it down.

Now, musicians, especially brass musicians, have a tendency to “let them fly” quite often as it is. Now add that to the mix, and it’s a farting/burping bonanza. If we don’t let them go, we usually get sick or get indigestion. Makes me glad we’re outside all day.

I also fart in front of everyone (including my SO), none of us has any fear, we all do it. I’ve had real problems adjusting to “real life”, where it’s more frowned upon. I get indigestion all the time now. Yuck.

~ailia~

143

This is absolutely hysterical. I’d never heard it refered to it as this. The educational services of this board can never have a price tag put upon it.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste…and apparently…so is a fart.

144

Oh yes, and you can still tell who did it, but only if we’re not playing and you can hear it. We’re pretty blatant about admitting it anyway.

~ailia~

145

This has to be one of the funniest threads to come along since I don’t know when.

**

HAH!

We refer to it as:

**Who stepped on a duck?
Where’s the elephant?
Was that a Rhino snoring?
Who Tooted? **

Two things to guarantee giggles: funerals and farts.

146

Mr. Rilch will never again eat at the Spaghetti Factory. Or, if he does, he will never order anything with garlic. Particularly not the salad. I should have been asleep an hour ago.

147

How about:

Who’s got squeaky boots?
Who cut the cheese?

Has anyone ever heard of a Cupcake™? If not, it goes a little something like this:

Me: “Hey! You want a Cupcake™?”
Poor Victim: “Sure!”
Me: farts into hand, creates a deadly capsule of pure fart, shoves it into Poor Victim’s face
P. V: “Cough, gag You filthy, disgusting human!”

Hilarity ensues. Try it sometime.

Best done when a kid…better if Poor Victim is your sibling or significant other

148

It’s called a “Barking Spider” in my household.

149

10 hours at the Brickskeller in Washinton DC - $90.00

All you can eat Chinese buffet - $11.00

Being in the driver seat and able to control the “window lock” feature during the 11 hour trip back to Chicago - Priceless

150

Morgyn? Are we related, because “Pootinky” is what you say (usually in baby talk) after you have shot the bunny and are now waving the vapors away! LOL!!

That’s too funny!

There’s lots of bunny carcasses around our house.

We would also say “stepped on a frog”.

151

I’d be pleased if someone could ask the guy in the cube one over from me to stop farting. At least I think it’s him - he’s the only one who ever seems to be inconsiderate with things like that (for example, taking very loud personal phone calls, drumming his fingers on the desk which vibrates the other four connected, an annoying “you’ve-got-mail” sound on his PC). And today, twice now, I’ve noticed a rather unappealing odor wafting around one wall to my olfactory organ.

On a side note, I once farted and it smelled like bacon frying. Why can’t they all be like that?

152

That is so funny…my mom wouldn’t let us say it either. We had to say “traf” instead. (Pronounced “trayf”). You know, fart spelled backwards. I never knew any other kids who weren’t allowed to say fart!

Also, now that we’re older we use barking spider and wood grouse. And sometimes in our best Rodney Dangerfield voice, “Whoa…somebody step on a duck in here?”

My brother will either fart or burp into an empty pop can and cover it with his hand until he can stick it in to your face. I retaliate by throwing a fart at him (grabbing a handful of fart-air from behind your butt and literally throwing it in his face. Amazing how well that works!)

153

When I was really young, the word fart was verboten for me, too. I had to say “toot” or “fluffy” instead.

Weird, but I remember the first time I said “fart” in front of my parents. I felt weird. Like I’d just said something horrible. It was almost as bad as if I’d told them to fuck off or go to hell!

154

My husband’s mother won’t let anyone say fart in her house either (Which was like moving to a different country for me, since we sit around and tell stories of farting at my house). And mr. jar told me the story of bringing his best friend home.

They were playing video games or something and mr. jar’s little sister (about five at the time) wandered in. The two boys were arguing over something and Mr. Jar’ Mom overheard and instantly called the best friend’s mother and said,

“I just want you to know…your son used the F word in front of my daughter…”

The friend of course was read the riot act when he got home, until he clarified that the F word he used was Fart.

155

When I was in high school, mid 1980’s, Blue Angels were the party trick of choice. We also used to torment juniors by farting in our hands and wafting it in their face. “Cup o’ Poo” we’d call it.

A couple of years ago, a bunch of us guys were sitting around watching a Habs game, drinking beers and talking shit, when the subject of Blue Angels came up. Seeing as how most of those in attendance came from the same high school, we all shared the same memories; “Remember that time Bienve set his ass hairs on fire!?” We were all laughing our, er asses off reminiscing. One guy among us, Sam, didn’t go to the same school as us. He’d never even heard of Blue Angels. “Get the fuck out! You guys are fucking with my head. You can’t light your farts!” We were floored. We couldn’t believe that this gastral phenomenon actually bypassed his high school. Unfortunately, no one was packing otherwise we would have gladly enlightened him. What killed us, though, was Sam, trying to impart with us debaucherous act from his high school years asked everyone: “Any of you guys ever sit around a cookie and jerk off on it and the last guy has to eat it?”

Dead Silence

Sam: “Well, me neither, but some of my friends did”
A collective: “Yeah, right, you dirty monkey! Ah ahahahaha…”

He never lived it down…

PS: Actually, a couple of weeks later, some boys came over to my apartment for more hockey-watching and beer drinking. Sam came along and fortunately, Stu had consumed a seriously spicy mexican meal in the last 12 hours. He was primed. Equally as fortunate, I happened to have a BBQ lighter handy. Tonight was the night! It was late spring and warm. Stu was wearing a pair of those nylon adidas shorts, the ones where you can see a dude’s ball-sack if he’s sitting just so. Anyhoo, Stu pulled a Cirque-du-Soleil and lifted his legs so his knees were higher than his head, adidas nylon pulled tight, BBQ lighter primed and ready to go, all of us, especially Sam looking on with anticipation…

BRAAAAAP -wooooooffff

A sweet 12 inch flame came shooting out of his ass…there was a 3 sec. pause as everyone was gasping for air in preparation for a ultra-long hysterical laugh…I managed to look over at Sam who’s looked as though he had seen God…it was brilliant…Stu pulled a couple of more and we managed to break Sam’s cherry, he was no longer a Blue Angel virgin.

BRJ

156

Blue Angel. That’s a MUCH better name than Blue Flame.

Sounds more majestic.

157

**

This is evil, pure and simple. ( I love it!)

158

We all should share a Little Debbie more often.

159

Using the term “fart” was not verboten in our house, either, but I knew those kinda kids. One friend called them “poopadoops” and another called them “windy pops”.

160

I sure remember what I called the other. To me it’s the most perfectly named word in the English language.

Remember how when you were really young and you had to pinch a loaf, you got the poop face?

I’d be standing there with my legs crossed and the veins in my 4 year old poop face bulging and mom would say “lieu, do you have to go?” and I’d nod my head and look up unsmiling and tell her…

“Uh huh… I gotta grunt.”