most emberassing place you've ever audibly farted

It's so rare that I audibly fart that I can't think of anything. However, once we were at church when my son was a little baby and the entire congregation was silent as our pastor was praying for two guys leaving for a mission trip. Anyhow, the guys were right in front of us and mid prayer my son totally sharted, a big long loud juicy one. Laughter rippled out among us and the guys who were being prayed for were in tears laughing.

Giving birth to my first kid. Doctor said "push" and I did.

It's normal to poop during a live birth...

Talk about shock the first time that happens, "Hey that's not MY kid!"

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.

[hope this lady doesn't teach at my kid's school, it's hard enough to leave them there with everything that goes on nowadays, plus having to read their nasty attitudes on Facebook and now MFP is really just too much.]

Oh shut up. You've got no idea how rotten most kids are even if you think your's is an ickle angel. I know because I've been that nastey 7th grade ***** and I've worked in a middle school. Maybe you should be a teacher. See where you stand then haha.

Now back to laughing.

Mine was in the 3rd grade lunch line next to the guy I adored lol. He never brought it up .

Angel or not kids are there to be taught and that includes manners and respect, etc. not having teachers take their issues out on them. I don't care if they are in the 7th grade either. So tired of this kind of stuff. Really. As a habit, and on purpose that's just out of line. Oh and don't tell me to "shut up" who do you think you are? If it's so hard on you being teachers step aside and make room for those teachers that got shown the door a few years back.

Oh come on ... lighten up for goodness sake! Topic's not so "hot" that you have to "try" to be a fireman!

People are here to support each other and lose weight and hopefully have a little fun along the way. Bodily functions are bodily functions - and they do just that - sometimes one simply 'gotta' do it.

You really do not have to read this post. It isn't required for your 9th grade Social Studies - or 7th Grade - or whatever - class. We're all adults here, having fun, laughing about the things that embarrassed us. So lighten up or just go read another thread and take yourself out of the situation. I.E. change the channel. Use the remote. Switch roads. Make it easy on yourself. Don't get all 'het up'. Cool the jets. Take a chill pill. Relllllllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx! Laughing doesn't hurt and if this isn't a funny thread for you (it's hysterical to me and my wife) find one that is and leave this one.

I have never laughed so hard in all my life.

My husgand and I practice "the wave." It is nightime, you fart under the covers, so you do "the wave" with the bedsheets pretending to adjust your blankets. I keep two bottles of air freshener in the bedroom for just this purpose.

This 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.

i never audibly fart....


true story....

i haven't heard one YET.

I should never have openned this thread - I'm laughing so hard they are going to know Im not actually working. Taxes are not this funny.