According to the US Department of (g)Agriculture, here’s the list you’ve all been waiting for:
Note to gents: Avoid the consumption of these or any other beans (”pork and beans”, “refried beans”, “bean salad”, etc.) before any critical events! Beans = Fart Pills!!
Ah – poofed again.
Okay – one family gathering of the ‘07 season finished. Too bad that this will be a memorable one for everyone involved. Namely, my extended family of about 25 people.
So we’re sitting around by the fireplace in the evening, getting ready to do the whole gift exchange routine, and I’m thinking to myself, “hehe… lucky me I’m sitting on this plush absorbent couch… I could blow all kinds of gas in here and no-one would ever know…” Which was a good thing, because I had some fast-food breakfast and a pretty amazing turkey dinner/lunch brewing and bubbling in my fart-cannon. A good soft couch was exactly what I needed to avoid creating an incident.
Which, of course, did not happen. For reasons I cannot quite remember, I agreed to help distribute the gifts from under the Christmas tree, passing gifts to people, fetching boxes for the older generation, etc. But this Christmas elf was anything but quiet and cute.
It started while reaching for a specially requested box in a weird body position from the back of the gift pile. Gramps was giving his wife of 42 years a special treat this year, he said. The room was hushed an everyone was expecting a sweet and tear-jerking moment. What they got instead was an explosive surprise; the result of a particularly potent gas surge that I just could not control.
But here’s the worst part. It wasn’t just a fart. Not even just a loud fart. No, this was as bad as bad can be.
I started out trying to pinch it off, naturally, so it started as a high-pitched squeal emanating from the butt in mid-air that I’d turned to the crowd in order to lift the box. Trying to stop the flow, of course, I pinched harder and harder, which made the fart longer and (if I may brag a bit) much more musically interesting. After 8-10 seconds of this (remember, the room is hushed and there is by now NO doubt in anyone’s mind what’s going on), I decide to cut my losses and just get it over with. So, by relaxing my sphincter and giving a little push, I 100% did get rid of my intestinal gas pocket. Any my reputation. And my respect. And a good deal of breakfast.
Yes folks, I sharted at the family gathering and will never, ever, in a million years live this down. After a brief moment of silence, the room erupted into laughter that lasted for several minutes.
Good thing it was my family so they still have to accept me!!
Fart-Meter:
My city’s summer festival is on this week with all the roller-coasters, games, and gimicks you can think of. Around 11pm, they blow off fireworks for about 10 minutes. You know, the big pretty red ones, the purple & blue starburst bangers, those gold-colored twirls that go Wwwzzzzzzzzzzzzz… – the whole 9 yards.
So I’m standing in a crowd of hundreds, figure that I’ll let a little ripper go, and !*!*! KaBANG !*!*! – I let a total fart rocket go. At least 25 people turned around in front of me and looked!! Talk about an explosive fart!
Fart-Meter:
Not just once, but 5 times over the past 24 hours I have farted so loudly that my ears hurt. From a bug’s perspective, it would be a vesuvian calamity of the first order. Even on from a human perspective, these have been farts for the ages.
Fart-Meter:
“One summer’s day in the mid-1860’s, a young French boy named Joseph Pujol had a frightening experience at the seashore. Swimming out alone, he held his breath and dove underwater. Suddenly an icy cold feeling penetrated his gut. Frightened, he ran ashore, but then received a second shock when he noticed seawater streaming from his anus. The experience so disturbed the lad that his mother took him to a doctor to allay his fears. The doctor complied.
The boy didn’t know it at the time, but this unsettling rectal experience at the beach not only indicated no illness, but it also foretold of a gift that would later make him the toast of Paris and one of the most popular and successful performers of his generation…”
For the rest of the story on this role model for all young men and women, check out this historical fart master story.
Aside from being required reading for any serious fart master, its inspiring and really funny!
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: