Following a fun weekend with the guys, let the record clearly state – intestinal gas inspired by pinto beans, onion gravy, and pork sausage stinks even more than:
Sometimes mystery is a good thing.
I’m over at my inlaws’ place for a nice dinner and offer to help my mother-in-law carry a coffee table up from the basement. So its Mr. Socket (a young and friendly golden lab), mom, a coffee table, and me climbing the stairs slowly to avoid scratching the walls. About halfway up, I hear a right ripe gasser. Normally I’d laugh and congratulate whoever let rip, but this was not the time or place. Mom muttered something, looked sort of awkward (because of the carrying the table?), glared at Mr. S, and that was all that happened. Was it a dog fart or something much, much worse?
Truthfully, I don’t want to know who done it. I hope it was the dog, but I’d really just not know.
Fart-Meter:
A couple of days ago I had the worst gas pains. I needed relief big time. The ache was bad enough to make me reconsider the wisdom of eating burgers just before bed (the cause of my troubles). Now that’s serious pain.
But here’s the thing – the gas pains were not in my intestines nor in my stomach. In fact, they were nowhere near my abdomen or my anus. No, these nearly fatal gas pains were in my nose.
Fart-Meter:
I recently took a trip to Thailand and had a chance to go snorkelling. What a blast! I mean it – colorful fish, coral, and bubbles all over the place! Who knew rice & sunshine could do that to you?
Fart-Meter:
Its true – it does happen. And how do I know? I tried a yoga class last weekend. So its me, a cute instructor, and about 10 women aged 20 – 55 in a mid-sized room. I’m pretty new to this scene, but what’s to lose from trying something new?
The class started out pretty quietly – touch your toes, bend your legs, twist your torso… you know, yoga stuff. Along with the deep breathing and relaxing atmosphere, it was pretty ripe for flatulence.
It took about 15 minutes for the first toot to sound. I didn’t catch who it was, and frankly wasn’t interested. Then some girl let rip while we were all in “Warrior 1″ a few minutes later. It started as a squeeker, but she must have relaxed mid-way through as it rumbled for a good 4 seconds. I think was the lady beside me, but I didn’t want to look around in case everyone thought it was me.
The second fart must have been some sort of unspoken female signal – “Farting Women of the World – Let’s Fart!!” Before I knew it, there were women farting all over the place. 45 minutes of uninterrupted flatulence that would put my baseball team to shame. Good thing the windows were half-way open!
Fart-Meter:
Some of the most amazingly ridiculous information you’ll ever see is now up in the “Fart Research” section of the main Fart-Fart.com web site. Check it out for a serious laugh!
Here are a just a few sample phrases uncovered in this research (phrases typed into search engines by folks looking for fart humor). There are many more right here.
4:00 am. Can’t sleep. Just farted and it escaped its blankety prison. Gross. Thought I filled my gitch, but it was only a dream.
Fart-Meter:
Life gets busy sometimes. Sometimes, busy becomes stressful. As all true Fart Experts* know, stress is always reflected in your farts.
Stress-afflicted farts are often tense, high-pitched (from general body tension, including “low-end” sphincteral musculature), abrupt (just trying to pop out between important events), unpredictable (from getting bottled; bad news), and more numerous (from your nervous gut producing more gas, or possibly from eating bad food on the run). Which makes a week like this one really something special.
This week, I’ve got reduced stress, increased appetite, and totally more wicked-awesome farts. It seems I’ve had a limitless supply of big, funny, relaxed farts for three days. They’re not too loud, barely stink at all, and they just keep coming. Its like a top-40 fart hit parade, except I’m not supposed to tell anyone, and you’re not supposed to be laughing!
* – Any better ideas for a special Fart-Fart.com designation for the Ultimate Gas Champion? Poof-Genius? Fart-Machine? Fartimus-Maximus? Others???
Fart-Meter:
Last night, in an evening meeting, times were tough. You see, I’ve been playing with my diet and have a strange intestinal weather system blowing through, and I’m not sure if there’ll be follow-through each time I fart. I can honestly say that I’ve never sharted* in my entire life, and last night was not the time to break new ground.
So, here I am, in the midst of a group of guys I would gladly fart around (even in a meeting, just for a quick laugh), but I’m pinching like the dickens because I don’t want to cause a spill and really derail the proceedings. So, I just sat there, pinched, pinched some more, went to the can during breaks to safely relieve the pressure, and just kept on pinching. I never thought I’d miss underwear-friendly farting so much!
* – half fart, half sh**, occuring while wearing clothes; not on purpose
Fart-Meter:
Time to be honest: how many of us eat differently when we know our social calendars are wide open and it’ll be nothing but strangers and empty rooms for a stretch of days? I know I sure do. Which is why, after a few weeks’ insanely busy schedule, I decided to relax my otherwise cautious diet over a three day rest period. And the results?
Nuclear weapons, my friend! North Korea’s got nothing compared to the SBD (silent but deadly) volley I launched this morning. First, I had to flee my bed. Then, the elevator ride was 15 floors too long.
But, worst of all by far, the most potent little gasser I’ve had in months was the one I dropped at my desk about 3 minutes into the work day. It was just a wee fart (hardly a fart at all), yet it completely contaminated the area for 5 minutes! Good thing I planned this fart-fest for a period of non-social days!
Fart-Meter: