most emberassing place you've ever audibly farted
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Thank you posters....This is the funniest thread ever !
I have to share one on behalf of my younger sister. She had to grow up in a house full of males.
Poor girl. Nobody ever babied her.
Anyway, her and I were walking through the local superstore and she was right behind me. We were walking
past the ends of all the aisles looking for the one that she needed. Just as we arrived at her desired aisle....
I ripped a giant noisemaker that I had been holding in for far too long. It could be heard for MANY aisles. It may as well
have been broadcast through a loudspeaker.
Since I was just ahead of her, she was now centered in the end of the aisle that she wanted to walk into. I was hidden by the shelving. In the middle of the aisle was a now horrified man that couldn't believe the sound that presumably just came out of this little 5 foot and change girl of 20 some years.
She was frozen with that deer in the headlights look and he just couldn't believe his eyes. Neither one moved for a while.
Ahhhh.... the things that a poor girl has to suffer at the hands of her brothers and father.
Oh if I had a dollar for the number of times my dad and brothers have done this to me... Now I shout, "Nice one, DAD"
Excellent deflection!!0 -
Oh if I had a dollar for the number of times my dad and brothers have done this to me... Now I shout, "Nice one, DAD"
Excellent deflection!!
Yes, even works when they're not around...
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How could I not breathe new life into this thread? HOW?! Gosh, I miss _noob_. :sad:
To all you "MFP has this really neat search function, you should use it" people, I was searching dating horror stories. Thanks! :drinker:0 -
We whisper in our panties.No. Ladies don't fart. :glasses:
hahahaah0 -
A crowded, standing-room only, BART train in the transbay tunnel. let that sink in (pun intended).0
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In school, like, third grade I think? Can't remember if it was during a test or we were suppose to have our heads down. But it was quiet
And it was really loud.
And everyone pretty much knew it was me0 -
As I stood up from the altar at the front of church! Lord, forgive me!0
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In the middle of class, aged 7, as the teacher was reading Harry Potter.0
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In my gym class .. but best of all the music is loud and no one could tell anything happened. Too many vegetables.
I now have anti gas pills I take before my gym classes ... just in case, as I do plan on going back there and not wanting to be "that guy".0 -
In my gym class .. but best of all the music is loud and no one could tell anything happened. Too many vegetables.
I now have anti gas pills I take before my gym classes ... just in case, as I do plan on going back there and not wanting to be "that guy".
I had a lot of broccoli today. Thankfully it's not leg day, so I won't be "that girl". :bigsmile:0 -
A crowded, standing-room only, BART train in the transbay tunnel. let that sink in (pun intended).
There's a Dr. Seuss story in the making here!0 -
I agree that "ladies" don't fart! However, one day I was "all alone" in my bedroom getting ready for the day and out of pain - let go a rather hearty cramp filled moment. Only about 15 seconds passed and my teenage son rounded the corner and shouted "Mom - good God ....really!" As an adult he will finish an argument with "and remember I know your human!"0
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I drank too much booze the night before my son's team pizza party. I had to talk to the coach and was letting out hot SBDs the entire conversation that probably raised the temperature in the room a few degrees. The look on his face was priceless. I'm sure every dad on the team has heard this story. I sort of avoid all of them now.
I wish I could say this was an isolated incident. but I did it to the Cub Scout Cub Master and once at work.
I no longer go drinking on nights before group events or work.0 -
i farted loudly in church one time when everyone was praying when I was a child0
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We were the only customers in the surf shop so both guys were helping us choose the best wetsuit for my son. I bent down to help him put his legs into the suit and let out an almighty trumpet. Fair play to the guys, they kept straight faces and carried on as if nothing had happened but I bet they fell about laughing when we left :laugh: :blushing:
Oh my, those guys were def sweethearts for that haha!
And in P.E. class in middle school. I was so embarrassed, so I blamed it on the girl next to me by saying, "EW, MEG!" lol. She tried to convince everyone that it was me, but no one believed her. I feel bad about it now though. (: lol.0 -
Interesting question....As a 7th grade teacher for many years I have been known to let a silent deadly one go next to my "favorite" student while quietly walking around the class checking work....I know....I'm sick!!!!:)
I'm gonna ask my kid if his teacher has ever smelled like a fart. If he says yes, I'm gonna have her stank azz fired. I'm so sick of how teachers think it's okay to harsh on kids. It's so irresponsible and unprofessional.
Luckily I have the kind of kid who if the teacher did that in front of him, he's cry foul and yell "Ew, Mrs. insert-your-name-here, you farted!" And he has the kind of mom who while in the principal's office would back him up.
You know what they say about people who can't take a joke? Screw 'em!!! Good luck getting someone fired because your kid said they smell "stank azz," lady. Wow... just wow...0 -
This had me laughin' out loudThis is not my story...but I nominate this lady...FTW! Reposted from her site: hahasforhoohas.com/the-fart-that-almost-altered-my-destiny/
Like everything in life, farts have a time and place. However, I never realized that in the wrong time and place, flatulence had enough power to alter my course in history. Well, it can if it's the third date with the man of your dreams. And, if it makes his eyes burn. If God destined us to be together, I was one SBD away from foiling His plans (that's "Silent But Deadly" for you prudes).
It was about five years ago. I was trying to lose a few pounds so I was staying away from carbs. That's when I met my husband, Rob. On our first date, he booked the next two. He liked me. I liked him. Things were looking real good. He picked me up in a Cobra, Mustang and his pathetic attempt to win me over with a car totally worked. I'm not shallow, but since I spent most of my twenties picking men up because I didn't want my hair to frizz in their non-air conditioned jalopies on 3 wheels and a
15 year old spare, I welcomed his fancy sports car with open arms. We arrived at the restaurant and Rob was ordering food I hadn't allowed myself to eat in years. I didn't want to be "that girl" so I ate, drank, and oh, was I merry. Later we shopped a bit. Rob surprised me by buying an expensive pair of shoes that he caught me eyeing. Was this love?
That's when it happened. Gas strikes in two different ways - uncontrollable toots or sharp, shooting pains that feel a lot like dying. I thought I was dying. Not to make a scene, I told Rob I suddenly wasn't feeling well and probably needed to head home. On the way home in his Cobra, he tried to hold my hand and ask me lots of questions, but I wasn't having any of it. The pain was so bad it felt like I was being stabbed with a bunch of tiny forks.
Then I realized ...
My God, help me. I have a horrendous fart on deck. I'm in trouble. Big trouble. The more I held it in, the more pain would shoot through my stomach and down my legs. I was even having to raise myself off the seat, gripping on to my door and the dashboard. "Seriously, you need to hurry - I'm in a lot of pain." I managed to say through gritted teeth.
"Wow, it's that bad? What's wrong? Do I need to take you to a hospital?"
How do you tell a man you just started dating that the reason you're writhing in pain is because you have to fart?
Well, you can either tell him, or like me, let the fart speak for itself.
People, hear me. There was nothing I could do. As impressive as I am with sphincter control, this was out of my hands. Slowly, it eeked out.
The more I tried to stop it, the more it forced it's way through the door. However, to my pleasant surprise, there was no sound. I sat silently, sweat accumulating above my upper lip. Ok, maybe I got away with it. Maybe I'm home free. Then it hit me. Not an idea, a cloud. A horrific, fart cloud.
Not in a, "am I smelling something?" sort of way. More like a "is someone dead and rotting in your trunk and am I in hell?" sort of way.
Suddenly, I panicked. "Roll down the windows!" I screamed (yes, I literally screamed it like I was in a horror movie).
"What? Why?" Rob asked, starting to freak out because I was freaking out.
"I can't roll down the windows, unlock it! UNLOCK IT!"
"What's going on?" Rob yells back to me, "Why are you ..." then it hit him.
I could see it in his eyes. Was it surprise? Horror? Water started to accumulate at the base of his eyelids, "Oh my God, I CAN TASTE IT!" he screamed.
"Roll down the windows!" As I screamed, the toots started to flood out uncontrollably. I scratched and clawed at the window like I was being kidnapped. Rob, unable to see either by fart cloud or panic, kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of unlocking the window.
It was chaos. We were acting like we were under siege by gun fire. We were under siege alright, just not by gun fire.
Finally he was able to hit the right control and he rolled down our windows.
We both gulped in fresh air. I was horrified, yet happy to be alive, then remembered I just farted on the man of dreams, then sorta wished I was dead.
We sat silently for the rest of the way home. Although the shooting pains had subsided, I now desperately needed to use the bathroom, in an urgent, explosive kind of way. He pulled up to my apartment and before he could come to a stop I had already jumped out, "Ok, thanks for dinner, sorry about the fart, love the shoes!" and ran in to my apartment like I was running from the cops.
I burst through my door and ran straight for the bathroom, where I was finally able to unleash and make noises that no one should ever, EVER, hear coming from another person.
Then I heard it. Rob's voice. Right. Outside. My. Bathroom. Door.
"Anna? You left your shoes in my car and your front door was open. Where do you want me to put them?"
"Get away from the door!" I scream like Reagan from The Exorcist. "Ok, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
*toot* *toot* *splatter* *ungodly noise*
"I'm fine, Rob - just leave the shoes there. I'll call you later okay?"
"Okay, are you sure you're ..."
"I'm fine! Get away from the door!"
This man! I mean, I love him, but take a freakin' hint!
Finally, I heard the front door shut, and the Cobra engine zoom away. I thought that was the last I'd hear from him. I didn't think it was possible to ever see a man again after he screams he can taste your fart after only knowing you for 48 hours. But, to my surprise, I did. A couple days later, actually. Now we're married and he's laying on the couch while I type this ... "It was your rack that saved you," he just lovingly reminded me.
Well, thank you boobs. You saved us. You saved our destiny.0 -
Interesting question....As a 7th grade teacher for many years I have been known to let a silent deadly one go next to my "favorite" student while quietly walking around the class checking work....I know....I'm sick!!!!:)
Since you mentioned it... I, too, am a seventh grade teacher. While I have (sadly) never ninja-bombed a student, I HAVE threatened some of them. Of course, I always remind them that, "Chick farts are nasty." I will often also point out that that I ate beans the previous evening. LOL0 -
oh my gosh, I will bust a gut trying to hold it in! At work, walking down a quiet hall with a bunch of coworkers. Of course, I blame it on my shoes....not so sure about the smell, though...rofl0
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Oh, and by the way, TEACHERS are NOT in classes to teach YOUR CHILD "manners and respect, etc.". They are there to teach classes. It is the PARENTS who teach manners. It is the PARENTS who teach respect. If YOU don't do that, there is NOTHING a teacher can do to make it happen FOR you. So teach your own child manners. Teach your own child to respect others and themselves. You'll be doing him or her a favor. After all, most teachers see a child between 4 and 8 hours a week for about 36 weeks. That is a total of 134 to 268 hours a YEAR and if you count ALL the time the kid spends in school, that comes up to only 1260 hours. The other 7,506 hours belong to YOU, hon. No way any teacher or group of teachers can compete with that or make a difference in what a kid learns by example in the 86% of time you have him/her in your control.
Teachers can encourage and cajole, but they can't do something you don't do first... with all due respect.
If I could start a standing ovation for this . . . I would. I
you
Agreed!!
There are parents out there that think it's the teacher's job to teach their child everything about life.
I applaud all teachers... I have seen how children can be and how their parents think that their child is a sweet angel.
WTH? I was reading this for funny fart stories. How did this get in? :grumble:0
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