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Link Posted: 11/1/2004 9:30:15 AM EDT
There is a guy on my floor at work that is notorius for very nasty farts.

A few months ago, the guy that sits in the office next to him comes rushing into my office.  He is gagging and saying that Ray just dropped the worst bomb he ever smelled.  Suddenly I see more employees came rushing down the hall.

A couple minutes later, I hear our group secretary on the phone with maintainance saying that they need to come up to check out a sewer gas leak!!!!
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 9:42:58 AM EDT
I agree.  Most people judge or gauge a relationship by whether a couple is engaged or if they are married or if they are living together.    But i believe a relationship has reached a magical and special level when you can both fart in front of each other.  I have buddies whose WIFE will leave the room in order to fart.  WTF?   The first time I farted in front of my fiance, she said "Thank Gawd,  I was getting tired of holding it myself!"
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 9:56:46 AM EDT
When my son was about 3 months he was up early so the wife put him in the middle of us in bed. He's propped up against some pillows. I'm sleeping like the dead as usual when I hear this load noise that sounded like it was right next to me. I jump and say"WTF was that?" at the same time I start to roll out of bed for my 1911 when I notice my wife laughing and my son looking at me like a monkey trying to figure out a math problem. My heart is going at about 120 bpm and I'm not laughing, I'm kneeling next to the bed asking my wife what the hell that was, she finally get's it out thru her laughter. Then I started to laugh too. Several times now with company around he let's one rip and it's so load that everyone blames the nearest adult.
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 9:57:02 AM EDT
***HERE'S MY LAST ENTRY ON THE OLD THREAD THAT WAS JUST GUT BUSTING HILARIOUS***



KOOL WFART STORIES!!!!

About 8 years ago I had an incident that I thought was the end of my life! I had attented my wifes annual family get together which just so happens to be my favorite time of the year. My mother in law makes some mean ass chili, Korean style. Now, this tuff is as thick as roof tar and burns like napalm, GOD I LOVE IT SOOOO, and she knows this too.

Well on the way to the reunion my wife begins to beg me NOT to eat MOM's chili! She knows that it will be HELL in bed the comming night, so she beggs the whole way. We get there and just as I open the car door my MIL is waiting with my first helping! Now, she cooks this stuff in a cajun crab pot if you catch my drift. To shave some time off this, by the end of the day, I had eaten 8 bowls of chili and I was in severe pain! Couldnt walk, sweaten, little eruptions of vomit gurgling up ever few minutes, just sick off chili. I am not one to vomit, hate it, so I keep it down and it begins to DIGEST!!!!

Well, I ate so much that my stomach was about the size of 12lb water melon. The gas began to build and for some reason I could not fart! You could hear the gas rolling around in my gut and everyone was like "God, your still hungry, your stomach growling"!!! Anyway, I go to my wife in pain and beg for help as she preceeds to curse me good. So she lays me down on my back and trys to massage my stomach to see if I ill blow!! NOPE!

She drives us home that night and I continue to fill with gas! I felt like my skin was going to tear as my belly grew and grew! We stop at the midnight Pharmacy to get some stuff and nothing worked! Got home and I paced the halls for hours just hoping for a complete drop of my intestines on the floor. Around 4am in the morning all Hell broke loose! I ran into the bedroom bathroom while tearing my drawers off in mid flight, jumping onto the toliet with a lound crash. The tank explodes from the impact of ass and toliet seat just as I let the biggest fart of my life! tank water flowed all over the floor as the force of the fart blasted toilet water & napalm shit out over the ri
m under the seat and on to the walls. My wife jumped out of the bed as the thumping throbe of gas proceeded to assault the porcelin God! She began to laugh histericly when she relized it was my azz and not a 400 car train going though the house while I screamed in pain laced with relief in a torent of brown sludge. After deflation I had to go to the ER for two stitches. I had ripped my hole from the duress and strain not to mention the naplam.

To this day, I have not touched THE chili, quit cold turkey! My MIL thinks I hate her cooking now and I try to explain to her that I was onto her plot to kill me for the insurance money from the last incident. wife is happier now though, she does not have to worry about the covers being pulled over he head as I grin in fasicnation of relief at bedtime!
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 10:02:51 AM EDT
Last week on my way over to my friends house from school, I ripped about a five second long fart in my truck.  Normally, I would have just rolled down the windows, but I happened to be passing the dump at the same time that I farted, so either way, I was gonna be knocked out by some nauxeous fumes.  It was the worst lose/lose situation I had ever been in.
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 10:28:03 AM EDT
We had  a company kickoff meeting, but it was a 5 hour, one way  bus ride. We left at  6 am and most everybody slept.  

Well the ride home was the kicker... I had eaten the most god awful sausage and peppers, Hot dogs, hamburgers, etc, etc, etc,,,  use your imagination.  Top it all off with cheap draft beer.

About an hour into the trip home, my innards start rumbling, and I'm thinkin, oh damn..... please lemme hold this in!!!!

Another hour goes by, and I can't take anymore, unbelievable pain and pressure, I'm at the point where if I even try to squeek one out, It'll be a "Gambled and lost" Fart.... you know what I mean...

So I go to the back of the bus, thinking, there will be a window, or a really good fan in there..... As soon as I let go,, people are pounding on the door, yelling "FLUSH!! GODDAMMIT FLUSH!!!!!!",

Now it was real bad for me in that little bus bathroom, but when I walked out of the stall, everyone was crammed to the front of the bus, cursing me out, flipping me off, it was great,!! One girl hadn't moved from her seat though, she was semi -concious and white as a ghost, just leaning against the cool glass of the window.. talking to herself. She always was a little sensitive though...

This and only three hours left on the bus!!!

Never will live that one down....
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 10:48:24 AM EDT

Quoted:
Today we salute YOU, Mr. Silent Killer Gas Passer.




Link Posted: 11/1/2004 11:02:56 AM EDT
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 11:12:50 AM EDT
I was sitting in my calculus class in high school.  Its near the end of the class and the teacher is showing us something on the board.  Not too important, it was just some trick on solving some problem.  I feel a sneeze coming on and I start to lift my hand to my mouth so I dont blow it all over the persons neck in front of me.  As my hand is coming up and my lungs are filling up I feel a little fart bubble drop down.  Between the complex math, the sneeze covering and trying to contain the fart my brain couldnt handle all of them.  As I try to clinch my butt I let out a sneeze and rip a fart that sounded like an A-10 letting 20 or 30 rounds fly. It wasnt long but it combined with the plastic seat and me trying to hold it in my butt vibrated so fast the water in my eyes shook.  My buddy next to me (who is now at Princeton) kinda jumped.  In the first tenth of a second afterwards the class went silent.  The teacher is sorta sideways to me and she is holding up a piece of chalk in her hand as she looks at me out of the corner of her eye.  One of the longest tenth of a seconds in my life.  I couldnt help myself from laughing so I did.  I am known for laughing really hard and turning bright red.  I think I got made fun of for laughing more than I did for farting.

In high school I was walking into the main bathroom in between classes.  Earlier in the day one of my classes got to go down to the auditorium to listen to some speaker.  I dont remember what it was about now but I do remember the speaker.  He was a in a suit standing at the number 3 wall urinal.  I was walking past him with my bookbag on an my hands starting to un-do my jeans when he lets the biggest pee fart I have ever heard.  His head goes back and his eyes went to the ceiling and he lets out a long deep moan like he just O'ed.  I tried not to laugh but by this time I had started to do my business.  My stomach is contracting rythmically from my contained laughter and im peeing like a garden hose being shaked at a driveway which made me laugh even more because that exact image had poped in my head.

As I side note I have a theory about pee farts.  As your bladder fills up so does your butt with gas pressure.  But since you feel your bladder more you dont even notice you butt pressure.  That way when you start to pee a "sudden" pressure is felt thus resulting in a pee fart.  Some of the biggest farts Ive had were pee farts.

I also second the farting infront of your g/f   Now she will look at me with big doe eyes and suck her lip in a little bit resulting in one of the cutest faces youll ever see.  Like the cat from Schreck 2 kinda cute.  The cuteness is abruptly cut off when she lets a loud one go.  Man I love her.
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 11:36:04 AM EDT
There was a scientific study (yep, true story- a flatulence study) that posted the following results:

Men pass gas an average of 16 times a day

Women...."only" 12.

Link Posted: 11/1/2004 12:22:33 PM EDT
My wife and I met in college in 1990 on the first day of classes. I decided to "take her home to Mom" right before the summer break. Because we were poor students, bereft of cash, my Mom gave us a gift certificate to Captain George's (an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet in Williamsburg) so we could have a nice date night.


While perusing the buffet line, I noticed that they were serving Mako shark fillets, an old favorite of mine. So, I loaded up a plate and returned to my table. I noticed that the texture on the first fillet was a little "off" and the flavor was a little weird, but I ignored it until I got to the last fillet . . . this one was obviously beginning to decay. So, I set it aside and continued eating everything else. We had a great night . . . little did I recognized the horror that lay ahead.

After a couple of hours of stuffing our gullets, we decided to leave. When I got into my car, I could feel a slight twinge in my gut, but I (to my later chagrin) ignored it.

Before I relate any more of this story, let me give you, dear reader, a little background on my family and the circumstances of the evening. For one, I come from a very conservative religious and social background. My wife and I "waited for marriage to have sex" kind of background . . . my wife comes from the same background. So, we were pretty much heading straight home, her to the guest bedroom, me to mine. Also, my family lives near Richmond, so the trip home is back through the wasteland that seperates Williamsburg from Bottom's Bridge. Also, in great early 90's style, I was wearing white Docker pants and a white striped shirt with a t-shirt, underwear, and white socks tucked into a pair of very sharp Docker deck shoes complimented by my matching Galanti IWB holster for my FireStar. I was the very image of late 80's style. Trust me, this info will be important later.

So, we're driving down the road talking about our evening when suddenly a sharp spiking pain shot through my abdomen. At first I thought that perhap my wife-to-be had decided to off me and have rammed a shiv through the back of the seat into my spine. That not being the case, I soon realized that I was in the midst of the greatest shit crisis of my 20 year old life.

The pain was tremendous, the urge nearly unstoppable. The pain was so huge that I could not even speak. I realized that I had two options - 1. Shit my pants or 2. Find a restroom QUICKLY. So, me being the hormonal 20 year old that I was, I slapped the pedal on the ol' 1988 GT Mustang down to the floor and proceeded to high speed boogie down rt.60 looking for a restroom. My date soon realized through the incoherent screaming and thrashing that something was seriously wrong, but she was unable to extract the correct signal from the noise, so she was cowering in the corner expecting me to start foaming like a rabid dog at any moment. Finally (at about 110MPH) I saw salvation . . .

. . . A GAS STATION!!!!

I almost lost the sphincter war when the wave of relief flooded through me. So, slamming my ringmeat back into its normal closed position, I entered the gravel parking lot of the convienence store sideways with the brakes locked. I figure the attendant thought they were about to get knocked over by the local redneck mafia. I jumped out, ran over to the external restroom and pulled . . . AND THE FUCKER WAS LOCKED. Crying small tears of self-pity I waddled as quickly as possible into the store, cut to the front of the line and basically gave the clerk the old
give-me-the-frickin-key-right-now-or-i'll-shit-in-your-floor-routine. He threw the key at me . . . probably to avoid disease, because by now I was doing a considerable amount of raging and foaming.

I blindly threw the door open, dropped my trousers and undies and proceeded to deliver unto the Earth the foulest abomination that has ever swam the porcelain seas. I had shit in the BACK OF MY HAIR it was so bad. You know, the good 'ol fashioned grab your ankles until the convulsions cease type shit. Weeping tears of joy I looked up and noticed a small issue . . . there was not a scrap of toilet paper to be found anywhere. What's a red blooded all American man to do without TP in the crapper? I figured that I had owned my t-shirt for long enough (plus it had bits of crap on it from the explosion) so I used it for the cleanup process. After I finished, I deposited said shirt in the sink to remind the bastards to put paper in the shitter.

Of course, as soon as I stood up the pains hit me again and down I went . . . this time the socks were sacrificed. This went on for entirely too much time with a perceptible lack of enthusiasm and/or enjoyment on my part. When I finally finished, my tshirt, socks, underwear, and button up shirt were steaming in the sink and I was left with a pair of shit-streaked white Dockers, my Galanti IWB, and my shoes. I didn't bother returning the key . . . it was left on top of the pile in the sink (it's the little things that count).

When I returned to the car (25 minutes after I left), I dropped into the drivers seat in exhaustion. My girlfriend looked at me, mouth agape, and stated "OH MY GOD, YOU'VE BEEN RAPED BY A GAY MAN!" I then pointed out the fact that she would have heard the report from my 9mm FireStar if that was the case. As I explained the situation she started laughing, and was still laughing when we pulled into my driveway at home 45min later.

At first my Mom was a little taken aback to se her son arrive mostly naked with the woman that she had just met that morning. After I finally explained it to her, my mom laughed so hard that I thought she would swallow her tongue. It took an hour of soaking in the tub to get the smell out of me . . . the pants went into the trash. I still get a giggle out of her and my wife to this day when I mention it.

God help that gas station attendant.
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 12:31:20 PM EDT

Quoted:
My wife and I met in college in 1990 on the first day of classes. I decided to "take her home to Mom" right before the summer break. Because we were poor students, bereft of cash, my Mom gave us a gift certificate to Captain George's (an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet in Williamsburg) so we could have a nice date night.


While perusing the buffet line, I noticed that they were serving Mako shark fillets, an old favorite of mine. So, I loaded up a plate and returned to my table. I noticed that the texture on the first fillet was a little "off" and the flavor was a little weird, but I ignored it until I got to the last fillet . . . this one was obviously beginning to decay. So, I set it aside and continued eating everything else. We had a great night . . . little did I recognized the horror that lay ahead.

After a couple of hours of stuffing our gullets, we decided to leave. When I got into my car, I could feel a slight twinge in my gut, but I (to my later chagrin) ignored it.

Before I relate any more of this story, let me give you, dear reader, a little background on my family and the circumstances of the evening. For one, I come from a very conservative religious and social background. My wife and I "waited for marriage to have sex" kind of background . . . my wife comes from the same background. So, we were pretty much heading straight home, her to the guest bedroom, me to mine. Also, my family lives near Richmond, so the trip home is back through the wasteland that seperates Williamsburg from Bottom's Bridge. Also, in great early 90's style, I was wearing white Docker pants and a white striped shirt with a t-shirt, underwear, and white socks tucked into a pair of very sharp Docker deck shoes complimented by my matching Galanti IWB holster for my FireStar. I was the very image of late 80's style. Trust me, this info will be important later.

So, we're driving down the road talking about our evening when suddenly a sharp spiking pain shot through my abdomen. At first I thought that perhap my wife-to-be had decided to off me and have rammed a shiv through the back of the seat into my spine. That not being the case, I soon realized that I was in the midst of the greatest shit crisis of my 20 year old life.

The pain was tremendous, the urge nearly unstoppable. The pain was so huge that I could not even speak. I realized that I had two options - 1. Shit my pants or 2. Find a restroom QUICKLY. So, me being the hormonal 20 year old that I was, I slapped the pedal on the ol' 1988 GT Mustang down to the floor and proceeded to high speed boogie down rt.60 looking for a restroom. My date soon realized through the incoherent screaming and thrashing that something was seriously wrong, but she was unable to extract the correct signal from the noise, so she was cowering in the corner expecting me to start foaming like a rabid dog at any moment. Finally (at about 110MPH) I saw salvation . . .

. . . A GAS STATION!!!!

I almost lost the sphincter war when the wave of relief flooded through me. So, slamming my ringmeat back into its normal closed position, I entered the gravel parking lot of the convienence store sideways with the brakes locked. I figure the attendant thought they were about to get knocked over by the local redneck mafia. I jumped out, ran over to the external restroom and pulled . . . AND THE FUCKER WAS LOCKED. Crying small tears of self-pity I waddled as quickly as possible into the store, cut to the front of the line and basically gave the clerk the old
give-me-the-frickin-key-right-now-or-i'll-shit-in-your-floor-routine. He threw the key at me . . . probably to avoid disease, because by now I was doing a considerable amount of raging and foaming.

I blindly threw the door open, dropped my trousers and undies and proceeded to deliver unto the Earth the foulest abomination that has ever swam the porcelain seas. I had shit in the BACK OF MY HAIR it was so bad. You know, the good 'ol fashioned grab your ankles until the convulsions cease type shit. Weeping tears of joy I looked up and noticed a small issue . . . there was not a scrap of toilet paper to be found anywhere. What's a red blooded all American man to do without TP in the crapper? I figured that I had owned my t-shirt for long enough (plus it had bits of crap on it from the explosion) so I used it for the cleanup process. After I finished, I deposited said shirt in the sink to remind the bastards to put paper in the shitter.

Of course, as soon as I stood up the pains hit me again and down I went . . . this time the socks were sacrificed. This went on for entirely too much time with a perceptible lack of enthusiasm and/or enjoyment on my part. When I finally finished, my tshirt, socks, underwear, and button up shirt were steaming in the sink and I was left with a pair of shit-streaked white Dockers, my Galanti IWB, and my shoes. I didn't bother returning the key . . . it was left on top of the pile in the sink (it's the little things that count).

When I returned to the car (25 minutes after I left), I dropped into the drivers seat in exhaustion. My girlfriend looked at me, mouth agape, and stated "OH MY GOD, YOU'VE BEEN RAPED BY A GAY MAN!" I then pointed out the fact that she would have heard the report from my 9mm FireStar if that was the case. As I explained the situation she started laughing, and was still laughing when we pulled into my driveway at home 45min later.

At first my Mom was a little taken aback to se her son arrive mostly naked with the woman that she had just met that morning. After I finally explained it to her, my mom laughed so hard that I thought she would swallow her tongue. It took an hour of soaking in the tub to get the smell out of me . . . the pants went into the trash. I still get a giggle out of her and my wife to this day when I mention it.

God help that gas station attendant.



That would be an awesome "nice pants" Docker's commercial

- BG
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 12:55:22 PM EDT

Quoted:

Quoted:
My wife and I met in college in 1990 on the first day of classes. I decided to "take her home to Mom" right before the summer break. Because we were poor students, bereft of cash, my Mom gave us a gift certificate to Captain George's (an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet in Williamsburg) so we could have a nice date night.


While perusing the buffet line, I noticed that they were serving Mako shark fillets, an old favorite of mine. So, I loaded up a plate and returned to my table. I noticed that the texture on the first fillet was a little "off" and the flavor was a little weird, but I ignored it until I got to the last fillet . . . this one was obviously beginning to decay. So, I set it aside and continued eating everything else. We had a great night . . . little did I recognized the horror that lay ahead.

After a couple of hours of stuffing our gullets, we decided to leave. When I got into my car, I could feel a slight twinge in my gut, but I (to my later chagrin) ignored it.

Before I relate any more of this story, let me give you, dear reader, a little background on my family and the circumstances of the evening. For one, I come from a very conservative religious and social background. My wife and I "waited for marriage to have sex" kind of background . . . my wife comes from the same background. So, we were pretty much heading straight home, her to the guest bedroom, me to mine. Also, my family lives near Richmond, so the trip home is back through the wasteland that seperates Williamsburg from Bottom's Bridge. Also, in great early 90's style, I was wearing white Docker pants and a white striped shirt with a t-shirt, underwear, and white socks tucked into a pair of very sharp Docker deck shoes complimented by my matching Galanti IWB holster for my FireStar. I was the very image of late 80's style. Trust me, this info will be important later.

So, we're driving down the road talking about our evening when suddenly a sharp spiking pain shot through my abdomen. At first I thought that perhap my wife-to-be had decided to off me and have rammed a shiv through the back of the seat into my spine. That not being the case, I soon realized that I was in the midst of the greatest shit crisis of my 20 year old life.

The pain was tremendous, the urge nearly unstoppable. The pain was so huge that I could not even speak. I realized that I had two options - 1. Shit my pants or 2. Find a restroom QUICKLY. So, me being the hormonal 20 year old that I was, I slapped the pedal on the ol' 1988 GT Mustang down to the floor and proceeded to high speed boogie down rt.60 looking for a restroom. My date soon realized through the incoherent screaming and thrashing that something was seriously wrong, but she was unable to extract the correct signal from the noise, so she was cowering in the corner expecting me to start foaming like a rabid dog at any moment. Finally (at about 110MPH) I saw salvation . . .

. . . A GAS STATION!!!!

I almost lost the sphincter war when the wave of relief flooded through me. So, slamming my ringmeat back into its normal closed position, I entered the gravel parking lot of the convienence store sideways with the brakes locked. I figure the attendant thought they were about to get knocked over by the local redneck mafia. I jumped out, ran over to the external restroom and pulled . . . AND THE FUCKER WAS LOCKED. Crying small tears of self-pity I waddled as quickly as possible into the store, cut to the front of the line and basically gave the clerk the old
give-me-the-frickin-key-right-now-or-i'll-shit-in-your-floor-routine. He threw the key at me . . . probably to avoid disease, because by now I was doing a considerable amount of raging and foaming.

I blindly threw the door open, dropped my trousers and undies and proceeded to deliver unto the Earth the foulest abomination that has ever swam the porcelain seas. I had shit in the BACK OF MY HAIR it was so bad. You know, the good 'ol fashioned grab your ankles until the convulsions cease type shit. Weeping tears of joy I looked up and noticed a small issue . . . there was not a scrap of toilet paper to be found anywhere. What's a red blooded all American man to do without TP in the crapper? I figured that I had owned my t-shirt for long enough (plus it had bits of crap on it from the explosion) so I used it for the cleanup process. After I finished, I deposited said shirt in the sink to remind the bastards to put paper in the shitter.

Of course, as soon as I stood up the pains hit me again and down I went . . . this time the socks were sacrificed. This went on for entirely too much time with a perceptible lack of enthusiasm and/or enjoyment on my part. When I finally finished, my tshirt, socks, underwear, and button up shirt were steaming in the sink and I was left with a pair of shit-streaked white Dockers, my Galanti IWB, and my shoes. I didn't bother returning the key . . . it was left on top of the pile in the sink (it's the little things that count).

When I returned to the car (25 minutes after I left), I dropped into the drivers seat in exhaustion. My girlfriend looked at me, mouth agape, and stated "OH MY GOD, YOU'VE BEEN RAPED BY A GAY MAN!" I then pointed out the fact that she would have heard the report from my 9mm FireStar if that was the case. As I explained the situation she started laughing, and was still laughing when we pulled into my driveway at home 45min later.

At first my Mom was a little taken aback to se her son arrive mostly naked with the woman that she had just met that morning. After I finally explained it to her, my mom laughed so hard that I thought she would swallow her tongue. It took an hour of soaking in the tub to get the smell out of me . . . the pants went into the trash. I still get a giggle out of her and my wife to this day when I mention it.

God help that gas station attendant.



That would be an awesome "nice pants" Docker's commercial

- BG



OMG I SHIT MY SELF...........BE BACK IN A MINUTE........BAWAHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAAAAA
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 2:38:37 PM EDT
In high school, we had to do physical fitness tests... check your weight, height, cholesterol, etc.

Well, my turn came for doing as many sit-ups as possible in one minute... with a friend of mine being the "foot holder".

I swear, it was one of the funniest things, EVERY TIME I did a situp, despite putting 80% of my efforts into clenching... I would rip a tiny bit of the huge fart that was trying to escape me.

"One" ::squeak::
"Two" ::squeek::
"Three"....

Man, I'll never forget that... I did absolutely horrible compared to my normal that day. When you have to concentrate on (trying to) hold in farts, concentrate on (trying to) not laugh, and try to do situps all at once, it takes it's toll.

But the two of us, and the teacher observing sure did get a good kick out of it.



The absolute worst gas I've ever had, however, came after my sister and her (then fiancee) husband and I decided to have a little bonfire/cookout.

My BIL and I went to the grocery store, and procured polish sausage and ingredients to make s'mores.

We got back, and had a great cookout, the polish sausage was GREAT.

However, that stuff was the most evil, vile stuff on the planet. It was like it made my intestines into a gas factory. It must have created some kind of chemical reaction with the smores or something, because ALL NIGHT I was ripping HUUUUUUUUGE farts. Not like every hour there would be a decent fart... this was "If I don't fart every 5 minutes, I think my intestines will explode" feelings.

I spent about 4 hours laying in pain awake in bed trying to get rid of this gaseous phenomenon. I had to have set a world record that night or something. There is NO WAY that much gas could have fit into one person's body without being compressed into liquid or solid form to begin with.

My only relief came from the fact that there was no stench at all.

But I swear, if I had lit a match in my bedroom that night, the house would have blown up/burnt down.

To this day, my sister & BIL enjoy offering polish sausage to me. I always laugh, and decline.
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 4:28:52 PM EDT
this is good
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 4:47:56 PM EDT
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 5:12:31 PM EDT

Quoted:

Quoted:
My wife and I met in college in 1990 on the first day of classes. I decided to "take her home to Mom" right before the summer break. Because we were poor students, bereft of cash, my Mom gave us a gift certificate to Captain George's (an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet in Williamsburg) so we could have a nice date night.


While perusing the buffet line, I noticed that they were serving Mako shark fillets, an old favorite of mine. So, I loaded up a plate and returned to my table. I noticed that the texture on the first fillet was a little "off" and the flavor was a little weird, but I ignored it until I got to the last fillet . . . this one was obviously beginning to decay. So, I set it aside and continued eating everything else. We had a great night . . . little did I recognized the horror that lay ahead.

After a couple of hours of stuffing our gullets, we decided to leave. When I got into my car, I could feel a slight twinge in my gut, but I (to my later chagrin) ignored it.

Before I relate any more of this story, let me give you, dear reader, a little background on my family and the circumstances of the evening. For one, I come from a very conservative religious and social background. My wife and I "waited for marriage to have sex" kind of background . . . my wife comes from the same background. So, we were pretty much heading straight home, her to the guest bedroom, me to mine. Also, my family lives near Richmond, so the trip home is back through the wasteland that seperates Williamsburg from Bottom's Bridge. Also, in great early 90's style, I was wearing white Docker pants and a white striped shirt with a t-shirt, underwear, and white socks tucked into a pair of very sharp Docker deck shoes complimented by my matching Galanti IWB holster for my FireStar. I was the very image of late 80's style. Trust me, this info will be important later.

So, we're driving down the road talking about our evening when suddenly a sharp spiking pain shot through my abdomen. At first I thought that perhap my wife-to-be had decided to off me and have rammed a shiv through the back of the seat into my spine. That not being the case, I soon realized that I was in the midst of the greatest shit crisis of my 20 year old life.

The pain was tremendous, the urge nearly unstoppable. The pain was so huge that I could not even speak. I realized that I had two options - 1. Shit my pants or 2. Find a restroom QUICKLY. So, me being the hormonal 20 year old that I was, I slapped the pedal on the ol' 1988 GT Mustang down to the floor and proceeded to high speed boogie down rt.60 looking for a restroom. My date soon realized through the incoherent screaming and thrashing that something was seriously wrong, but she was unable to extract the correct signal from the noise, so she was cowering in the corner expecting me to start foaming like a rabid dog at any moment. Finally (at about 110MPH) I saw salvation . . .

. . . A GAS STATION!!!!

I almost lost the sphincter war when the wave of relief flooded through me. So, slamming my ringmeat back into its normal closed position, I entered the gravel parking lot of the convienence store sideways with the brakes locked. I figure the attendant thought they were about to get knocked over by the local redneck mafia. I jumped out, ran over to the external restroom and pulled . . . AND THE FUCKER WAS LOCKED. Crying small tears of self-pity I waddled as quickly as possible into the store, cut to the front of the line and basically gave the clerk the old
give-me-the-frickin-key-right-now-or-i'll-shit-in-your-floor-routine. He threw the key at me . . . probably to avoid disease, because by now I was doing a considerable amount of raging and foaming.

I blindly threw the door open, dropped my trousers and undies and proceeded to deliver unto the Earth the foulest abomination that has ever swam the porcelain seas. I had shit in the BACK OF MY HAIR it was so bad. You know, the good 'ol fashioned grab your ankles until the convulsions cease type shit. Weeping tears of joy I looked up and noticed a small issue . . . there was not a scrap of toilet paper to be found anywhere. What's a red blooded all American man to do without TP in the crapper? I figured that I had owned my t-shirt for long enough (plus it had bits of crap on it from the explosion) so I used it for the cleanup process. After I finished, I deposited said shirt in the sink to remind the bastards to put paper in the shitter.

Of course, as soon as I stood up the pains hit me again and down I went . . . this time the socks were sacrificed. This went on for entirely too much time with a perceptible lack of enthusiasm and/or enjoyment on my part. When I finally finished, my tshirt, socks, underwear, and button up shirt were steaming in the sink and I was left with a pair of shit-streaked white Dockers, my Galanti IWB, and my shoes. I didn't bother returning the key . . . it was left on top of the pile in the sink (it's the little things that count).

When I returned to the car (25 minutes after I left), I dropped into the drivers seat in exhaustion. My girlfriend looked at me, mouth agape, and stated "OH MY GOD, YOU'VE BEEN RAPED BY A GAY MAN!" I then pointed out the fact that she would have heard the report from my 9mm FireStar if that was the case. As I explained the situation she started laughing, and was still laughing when we pulled into my driveway at home 45min later.

At first my Mom was a little taken aback to se her son arrive mostly naked with the woman that she had just met that morning. After I finally explained it to her, my mom laughed so hard that I thought she would swallow her tongue. It took an hour of soaking in the tub to get the smell out of me . . . the pants went into the trash. I still get a giggle out of her and my wife to this day when I mention it.

God help that gas station attendant.



That would be an awesome "nice pants" Docker's commercial

- BG




I think this might be the reason why they have the no-stain Dockers now.
Link Posted: 11/1/2004 10:17:25 PM EDT
When I was about 6 years ago, I ripped a gargantuan fart.  This one was pretty decent considering my age and size.  I was watching TV, mom asleep on the couch; dad asleep in the chair.  Suddenly, I felt like a wee little poopie was brewing.  So, I proceeded to lean over to my right side to release this said "wee little poopie."  What started out as a tiny fart turned into the gas plant.  The fart was so loud and long, and I was just at the right angle at which to amplify its beauty, that it woke up my parents.  They were both alarmed, and I just lost it.  Dad couldn;t believe his creation could give birthto such an awesome thing, and mom couldn't believe I just did it.  No sooner than the fart was done, an ornament fell off the tree and broke.  I swear it was that fart.  We all lost it.

Fast forward to when I visited home in February.  I was lying in bed with my gf, and we were doing what 18 and 17 year-olds do when they are young.  I was on top, she was under.  Just as the deed begun, I felt one brewing.  Bout quarter-way through the ritual, I ripped it.  It was loud, stinky, and just plain AWESOME.  She was SO PISSED at me!!!  I lost it.  I couldn't hold it in.  Now, we both look back and laugh at it.  

Moral of that tale:  DON'T FART WHEN YOU AND YOUR PARTNER ARE DOING THE DEED!

Kev
Link Posted: 11/2/2004 7:07:41 AM EDT

I want the story that the guy posted a little while back about saying "how much he loves" his girlfriend, then farting and accidentally dropping a load on the floor.
Link Posted: 11/2/2004 7:12:09 AM EDT

Quoted:
I want the story that the guy posted a little while back about saying "how much he loves" his girlfriend, then farting and accidentally dropping a load on the floor.



www.ar15.com/forums/topic.html?b=1&f=5&t=267707

bottom of the page


Originally Posted By Oregon-AR (though he posted it from somewhere else):
I have always had a serious gastric problem, so whenever I absolutely couldn't hold it, I would try and make a joke, like the old "pull my finger" trick, so as to divert the embarrassment. Anyway, today after a shower, with just a towel on, I went into my room to get dressed. Mygirlfriend was in the room as I dropped my towel and felt a fart coming on. While hiking up my leg to flatulate I said, "This is how much I love you" at the same time I dropped a big ol' crap on the floor. At that moment, we just stared in horror and disbelief with our jaws agape! I absolutely could not, in the farthest reaches of my brain, believe I had just dropped a load on the floor in front of my girlfriend!!I screamed, "Don't look at it!" and jumped into bed and hid under the covers.

Link Posted: 11/2/2004 7:20:11 AM EDT
When I was younger and at a Brewer's game, there was this 400 pound drunk 2 rows down from me. He was messing with everyone. My buddy had a stink bomb and I threw it behind his seat. Everyone in the area was covering their mouths. The fat dude stands up and yells "The fat guy just farted", he took credit for it. We also dropped a few in the bathroom at the 7th inning stretch. That placed cleared out real fast and we were able to use the urinals with no wait.
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