Fart

Did you know that women FART just as much and just as often as men? YES! Also, women's farts smell just as bad as men's farts!

Women happen to be more sneaky (and modest) about their farts - while men are more "proud" of their farts.

Farts gone wild are the worst of all. Those are the situations we all hope will NEVER happen. A fart gone wild is a fart that turns out to be MORE than simple gas. Yep, a fart gone wild can be a totally humiliating experience. I've had a fart go wild and I'm sure you have too. In fact, just last year, a fart gone wild caused my father-in-law mess the bed.

Can you be walking and talking with a friend/relative/spouse, in a public place and let loose a loud fart - and continue normally - as if you never farted?

It's a challenge, but if you can fart like this and keep a straight face, you're a master farter. Congratulations!

Been thinking about "farts" and the differences between my wife and I.

* I've noticed that my farts smell much worse than my wife's farts (most of the time).

* My wife can fart for a much longer duration than me, like four times as long!

* We have fun with our farts but I think she gets the short end of the stick. :)

* I'm a proud "farter", while my wife is a "sneaky" farter.

This funny fart story was submitted to the blog called FartU:

I used to work in a computer repair shop for Lockheed, where a select few of the technicians used to engage in weekly "gas combat." They would go home the night before a combat day and eat foods that they were allergic to, as well as some of the old stand-by's.

My partner was particularly bad (we think he was pre-diabetic or something); he would go home and chow down on a combination of broccoli, beer and pistachios. The next day, he would walk over to one of the techs reading the morning newspaper, which was spread completely flat on his benchtop. He would silently gas off near the upper corner of the paper, then walk away while starting his stop watch. Usually, about 1.75 to 2 minutes later, we could here the newspaper reading tech -- who had his face at the other end of the newspaper -- screaming.

Lockheed was big enough that we techs had individual vehicles AND our own shuttle van to drive technicians around to/from work sites with machines that needed attention. One day, my partner and I were getting out of the van when he farted backwards into the passenger compartment, right into the faces of about 5 techs and 1 driver. He jumped down and slammed the sliding door shut. I could hear the muffled screams and see all the frantic motions as our trapped colleagues unlatched and rolled down every window. We walked away into the stairwell for the building. I was shaking my head... "Herb, you've GOT to stop DOING that to people." He replied "but it's FUN. Look..." We got to the second story landing and looked over the railing back down into the parking lot. The shuttle van was doing donuts in the parking lot; the sliding side door was open like an air-scoop, and a number of the other techs' tool pouches had rolled out through the open door.
We walked up the next flight to the third floor landing and looked out again. The van was still doing donuts, but two of the techs had abandoned the shuttle and were now walking to their work sites.

We fixed our assigned computers and walked back to the shop. When we arrived, one of those trapped colleagues who had been in the van was in our group leader's office, complaining bitterly about Herb's butt. What made it even funnier was that 1) our group leader was ALSO the safety coordinator, 2) the complaining tech was totally serious and 3) the complaining tech was trying to get Herb written up on a safety violation (unauthorized release of hazardous materials).

By now, you may have gotten the impression that Herb always victimized someone else, but this was NOT the case. Sometimes, he "got" himself (he would release what he THOUGHT was just gas... you could say he "fooped" himself every now and then), and there was at least ONE time he got me.

One day, he and I were in the car with another tech named Bryan. We had just exited the freeway and were in the driveway for our building, anxious to get out because it was close to quitting time. Just before he parked the car for us, Herb farted. It was a nasty, eye-watering, ozone-inducing fart -- the kind where the gas had the taste of the inside of a tin can. All of us -- including Herb -- were cursing and lamenting our fates. We piled out of the station wagon, yanked our tools out of the back, and ran for the building.

The NEXT day... Bryan and I had to go BACK up the freeway. We arranged with one another to share a vehicle... "What's still in the parking lot?" I asked. "just #275. All the other wagons are out," Bryan replied. "But... That's the same..." It was the same vehicle as yesterday. Still, we didn't have any choice. We both rolled our tools out into the parking lot and wheeled up to the back of Station Wagon 275. We opened the tail gate and jumped back quickly, expecting to be hit by a wall of stink -- BUT THERE WAS NOTHING. Knowing Herb, that was odd. We dumped our tools into the back of the wagon and slammed the tailgate shut. We walked up to the front doors and WHIPPED them open. STILL NO SMELL. We were both surprised, but weren't going to let our shock stop us from getting to work. So... we both jumped in and sat down. And as soon as we did, the gas SQUEEZED OUT of the bench seat cushion and had the SAME TASTE as the day before. EEWWWWW!

The last really creative event I can remember of Herb's was the time he invented a truly NEW WAY of farting. Herb and I were walking out to a work site. On our way to the parking lot, we were walking past our shuttle driver "Dave" who was standing by the vehicle key wall, filling out his mileage log. Herb walked up right behind Dave, standing back-to-back with him. He then thrust his butt backwards, right up against Dave's, pinning him against the wall. Then, he farted at Dave. Dave shook his arms and legs like he was receiving an electric shock. He sort of half-heartedly screamed, like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When Herb was done gassing Dave up, we continued walking out to the parking lot. We stopped just outside the door so we could look for the vehicle to which we had the keys.

I WANTED to express a certain amount of shock. I WANTED to express a certain amount of admiration at his originality. I WANTED to say "Herb, you JUST discovered a NEW WAY of farting that I will bet NO ONE has ever thought of or tried. Not only did you generate sound by passing gas out past your OWN cheeks and cause them to vibrate and make sound, you added the sound of SOMEONE ELSE'S cheeks being vibrated by YOUR gas. Truly original." I WANTED to say that -- but there was no time. Almost instantly, the door was flung open again fiercely -- so hard that the door swung open 180 degrees smacking the handle into the concrete wall. It was Dave the shuttle driver. And without missing a beat, he pushed HIS butt up against Herb's, PINNING HERB to one of the traffic barrier poles -- AND HE FARTED BACK AT HERB! Herb exclaimed "OOHHH!" really loudly -- it was all he COULD do. When Dave finished gassing Herb, he walked away laughing and saying "How dya' like that, Herb? ASS TO ASS resuscitation?"