On to the next 1000!

The previous 1000: http://www.talkbass.com/forum/showthread.php?p=5990837#post5990837

First post in the new thread!!!! Who's cooler than me? :D

First post in the new thread!!!! Who's cooler than me? :D


Ummmmm....the guy that had the last post in the last thread?????:hiding:

:D

Ummmmm....the guy that had the last post in the last thread?????:hiding:

:D

LOL! :D

My wife just came up behind me to see what I was reading. I could feel the pressure building and I slipped out a silent, toxic fog upon her. She was not happy! Must be love!;)

Cheers,
Jim

Suscribed with a silent but deadly one.

Subbed with a loud, sharp, BRRRAP! (didn't stank, though...)

you can tell this is male dominated forum, over a thousand posts about farting :p

Who'da ever thunk that a thread about farts could be 26 pages long? :D


I wonder if we'll get to fart III, er...part III...or if we'll just run out of gas?

you can tell this is male dominated forum, over a thousand posts about farting :pWhat's even better is that there is some unabashedly female participation as well! :D

My band is blessed with the most stinkiest light guy ever. Likes to let loose while he's hanging the truss. You never saw 7 grown men scatter so quickly when he let's go. He always waits till we're all on stage too. :crying:

First post in the new thread!!!! Who's cooler than me? :D

The guy who gave birth to the megathread, perhaps?

Depends on what we've had to eat, but I know to start worrying when there is a plate of bar-room hot wings in front of the drummer durring load in. That guy can peal paint off the damn walls!

The guy who gave birth to the megathread, perhaps?

In return, I give birth to the MegaFart!

The guy who gave birth to the megathread, perhaps?


I wouldn't put that on my resume if I were you... ;)

O.K.here's my second story

First off...sorry mister Jive I didn't know that that was your place...next time I come to the shop I'll bring some of those pine tree air fresheners.I did notice that E.A no longer makes those stink holding fuzzy cabinets.Coincidence???who knows.

Here we go...Years ago my band played one of those the "Our company made lots of money this year" parties.I know that many of you all have played corporate gigs and are well aware of the set up.

This gig was at a Holiday Inn conference center.The kind of room that can be partitioned off with sliding panels.I think that the main hall could have been split six ways,but at this event thay used the whole room.They had a stage against one wall where we set up that was also to be shared with CEO during presentations.

These gigs are a starving players dream...Our first set was to be one and a half hours,followed by presentations of bonuses,happy talk..."We did great this year..wait till next year"..followed by another one and a half hour set to close out.Anyway you get the picture.

The owners of the company were very cool.They set us up with a band table in the very back of the hall and we were invited to partake in the open bar.They had four different bars setup in each corner.We also got to hit the buffet table after everyone else went through.

The first set went great.folks were dancing right off the bat.I'm sure that the open bar played a big part in that.When we stopped playing they opened the buffet.Everyone had plenty to eat when a somewhat drunken CEO took to the stage.Not Foster Brooks drunk but tipsey...but hey it's his company.They set up a podium that was tied into the house P.A. system with overhead speakers.I don't know what gave me the idea but when we stashed all of our drum boxes an guitar cases behind a wall curtain I noticed a wall jack with several mike inputs.They were placed at several locations in the room.As the presentation went on things got looser and the boss was actually very funny.It was almost like one of those Dean Martin roasts from back in the day.

Call me a bad person,but something made me go behind the curtain,back where we were sitting and get a spare mike out of the gear box.I pluged it into the remote jack....guess what....Hot mike!!!On the house system.Only two other guys in the band knew what I was up to.I couldn't trust the others to keep a straight face.Carefully I placed the 57 on the back of my chair, with the chair against the wall curtain.At just the right time..as the speaker paused between breaths I let go what I thought was going to be a small fart.Well those plastic fold up chairs are like a bass drum head.I must say..The mike mix was perfect,so was the timing.From my vantage point you see people look up right at the stage and start to laugh.Even the speaker looked behind himself as if to say "where the hell did that come from?It may have taken a full 60 seconds for him to regain composure"In my shock at producing a not so small poot,I carefully removed the the mike from the jack and stashed the offending tool.

Thinking I had just pulled off one of the best band fart capers to date...A hand touched my shoulder from behind...Excuse me...My blood turned cold.

A man in a black tux holding a tray of five beers and some shots.He still had leftover tears in his eyes.I had forgotten that one of the satellite bars in the back of the room had a direct sight line past us ..to the stage.The bartender watched the caper from begining to end.He claimed to have worked at this place for fifteen years and had never seen anything like that and had never laughed so hard.He had to bring a round to the table.As far as I knew he and the band were the only ones in on the truth.

The second set went better than the first and the "speaker fart" was a topic until our last piece of equiptment was loaded.

With much respect to the man who started this thread,Thank you Jive1 for helping to bring back some fond band memories.

Cheers.

Instagator, I have never laughed so hard before 10:00 in the morning in my life. Thanks for that story :D

Dude! That is SO funny!!

Damnit instagator... you've made my face hurt from laughing :D

Damnit instagator... you've made my face hurt from laughing :D

You must be doing it wrong. Try opening your mouth in time with the spontaneous, spastic vocalizations. That should alleviate the pressure and allow for the laughter to more freely escape.

Trying to restrain or repress such things can lead to bigger, more embarrassing and possibly even messy complications down the road.

Hope that helps!


:hiding:

I sent this to my manager. He thinks I need to pul this at our next corporate party... *LOL*

Every time I am laughing to tears, my wife comes in and asks "Are you reading the fart thread again?".

O.K.here's my second story

First off...sorry mister Jive I didn't know that that was your place...next time I come to the shop I'll bring some of those pine tree air fresheners.I did notice that E.A no longer makes those stink holding fuzzy cabinets.Coincidence???who knows.

Here we go...Years ago my band played one of those the "Our company made lots of money this year" parties.I know that many of you all have played corporate gigs and are well aware of the set up.

This gig was at a Holiday Inn conference center.The kind of room that can be partitioned off with sliding panels.I think that the main hall could have been split six ways,but at this event thay used the whole room.They had a stage against one wall where we set up that was also to be shared with CEO during presentations.

These gigs are a starving players dream...Our first set was to be one and a half hours,followed by presentations of bonuses,happy talk..."We did great this year..wait till next year"..followed by another one and a half hour set to close out.Anyway you get the picture.

The owners of the company were very cool.They set us up with a band table in the very back of the hall and we were invited to partake in the open bar.They had four different bars setup in each corner.We also got to hit the buffet table after everyone else went through.

The first set went great.folks were dancing right off the bat.I'm sure that the open bar played a big part in that.When we stopped playing they opened the buffet.Everyone had plenty to eat when a somewhat drunken CEO took to the stage.Not Foster Brooks drunk but tipsey...but hey it's his company.They set up a podium that was tied into the house P.A. system with overhead speakers.I don't know what gave me the idea but when we stashed all of our drum boxes an guitar cases behind a wall curtain I noticed a wall jack with several mike inputs.They were placed at several locations in the room.As the presentation went on things got looser and the boss was actually very funny.It was almost like one of those Dean Martin roasts from back in the day.

Call me a bad person,but something made me go behind the curtain,back where we were sitting and get a spare mike out of the gear box.I pluged it into the remote jack....guess what....Hot mike!!!On the house system.Only two other guys in the band knew what I was up to.I couldn't trust the others to keep a straight face.Carefully I placed the 57 on the back of my chair, with the chair against the wall curtain.At just the right time..as the speaker paused between breaths I let go what I thought was going to be a small fart.Well those plastic fold up chairs are like a bass drum head.I must say..The mike mix was perfect,so was the timing.From my vantage point you see people look up right at the stage and start to laugh.Even the speaker looked behind himself as if to say "where the hell did that come from?It may have taken a full 60 seconds for him to regain composure"In my shock at producing a not so small poot,I carefully removed the the mike from the jack and stashed the offending tool.

Thinking I had just pulled off one of the best band fart capers to date...A hand touched my shoulder from behind...Excuse me...My blood turned cold.

A man in a black tux holding a tray of five beers and some shots.He still had leftover tears in his eyes.I had forgotten that one of the satellite bars in the back of the room had a direct sight line past us ..to the stage.The bartender watched the caper from begining to end.He claimed to have worked at this place for fifteen years and had never seen anything like that and had never laughed so hard.He had to bring a round to the table.As far as I knew he and the band were the only ones in on the truth.

The second set went better than the first and the "speaker fart" was a topic until our last piece of equiptment was loaded.

With much respect to the man who started this thread,Thank you Jive1 for helping to bring back some fond band memories.

Cheers.


Thats got to be one of the best fart stories ever.....props to you my friend

I have a good one...it was't me it was my wife....but it was killer! We were dating at the time, and were still in our puppy love stage of the game. We were wrestling around, tickling and poking...etc. etc.....I eventually let her flip me onto my back, and she sat on my chest. About 10 seconds later she pinned my wrists and farted right in my face....this was the first time she ever farted in front me, and I couldn't have been more proud of her. It stunk really f-ing bad too!

the only problem I find with farting on stage while performing is the associated risk of following through... worsened if we've been having curry and beer before the gig while waiting to go on.

Dang you instagator, I can not laugh out loud here.... dang dang...ooohhh zhe pain, zhe tears :D

Jens

I have a good one...it was't me it was my wife....but it was killer! We were dating at the time, and were still in our puppy love stage of the game. We were wrestling around, tickling and poking...etc. etc.....I eventually let her flip me onto my back, and she sat on my chest. About 10 seconds later she pinned my wrists and farted right in my face....this was the first time she ever farted in front me, and I couldn't have been more proud of her. It stunk really f-ing bad too!

Hey Matt! All farting aside, you really should put 'DR High Beams' in your current set up! KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN!!!

Hey Matt! All farting aside, you really should put 'DR High Beams' in your current set up! KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN!!!


good call, I'll add them to my set-up list! Head is down, although so are the mortar attacks! WOOOHOOO 70 days left till outta here!:hyper:

When I was in a Navy, I could empty A SHIP with just farting...
Im in a new band and my mates havent felt the wrath yet.

poor basstards.

Instagator, where'd that name ever come from?? :P

I went to Columbus, Ohio for business last week. During the 4 days there, I ate nothing but White Castle burgers and Skyline 4 way Chili as part of a gastronomical science experiment. You can read the results here: http://www.talkbass.com/forum/showthread.php?t=453951

I went to visit a friend in Dayton, and we went to an open mic. As fate would have it, I sat in on drums. Serendipidously, there was an oscillating fan behind the drum kit that spread air all over the stage. So for about 3 songs, I was spreading this thick, noxious gas all over the stage without anyone having a clue where it was coming from. The stuff was so thick that the fan was having a hard time pushing it, nearly breaking. I did not know a single soul on stage, and they were looking around to see where the smell was coming from and trying to move away from the mystery source with no escape in sight. I even heard someone cough. I nearly had a stroke while keeping time and not breaking out laughing. My friend said afterwards, it looked like you were having fun, you were grinning the whole time. If they only knew.....

The drumkit had a nice cloth and foam padded Rok N Sok throne which is excellent for burying your farts into. The drummer that followed me was female, and I watched her as she sat on the throne after me. When she sat down, I could tell that her pressure released the farts I buried into the throne. The look on her face told the story. She had no idea where the stench was coming from, but from the look on her face she was clearly curious and embarrassed. And of course, the fan was spreading the newly released fumes all over the stage again for a new set of jammers.

^^^^^^^^^


It must be kismet!

My best farting didn't happen during the gig, but after the gig. Granted, we were still at the party, so I think it qualifies. My college band had gone to play our friend Joe's parents place in the Santa Cruz mountains. They were throwing an Oktoberfest party. They were homebrewers and so were about thirty of their friends. There was a big homebrew competition, so we "had to" try all thirty or so beers. I got a pretty good buzz after one pass through the taste-testing line. Anyway, on top of the beer, there was a ton of wurst (brats, bockwurst, etc.), sauerkraut, potato salad, beans. Add a ton of beer to the recipe...You can just imagine the unholy stew that beer, sausage, kraut, beans, and potato salad created. Well, we finished the gig and stayed up partying late into the night. Since we were so far off the beaten road and a long way from home, Joe's folks put us up for the night. The band stayed downstairs while the family and other friends stayed upstairs. Needless to say, in the middle of the night I started emanating some pretty horrific odors. The people sleeping downstairs were not immune and got a pretty good nosefull. But since we all know that hot air rises, the folks upstairs got completely fumigated. The next morning Joe's dad said that the stink was so bad, it actually woke them up. I apologized profusely to our good host, who had thrown such a great party and put us up for the night. I felt really bad about waking them up, but the band had a good laugh about it later. The legend of the uber stink lives on.

no longer do men have to adhere to diets to net farting results, DIY farts with a bicycle pump:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TC_twKz8cD0&feature=related
and i just cracked one off as i was typing.

In a million years I would have never thought of using a bicycle pump like that.




Reminds me, time for the colonoscopy appointment.



:ninja:

O.K.here's my second story

.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Okay, I can finally contribute to one of the greatest running threads on TB!

This past Friday I played a wedding w/ my band. The night was going well and we were into our final 'set' (if you can call it that) - the last part of the night where everyone's fairly (or incredibly) drunk and dancing.

Well, I feel a sneeze coming on... and you can guess the rest. It must've been the prime rib I ate a little while before... :)

This, my friends, was a blast of major proportions. So much so that right up until we finished playing, I thought it might have been much more than just a snart (sneeze/fart combo, for the uninformed)!

Now, I'm not one to move around on stage too much as it is (especially at a wedding/corporate gig). But I remained statue still for about 10 minutes afterwards (still playing, mind you). I did, however, look back at our drummer (directly behind me) and the look on his face was f'n priceless. He mouthed the words "do you SMELL that?!?" to me, to which I nodded. Tears started welling up in my eyes and it was all I could do to not laugh. Also, the thought that I might have a "situation" to deal with afterwards was a bit of a sobering thing, too...

When we finished our last song, I calmly put my bass down on the stand and waddled my way to the restroom (it seemed a mile away at the time). I prepared for the worst...

False alarm!!! :hyper: I thanked God... out loud, too. As a nice extra bonus to the story, it turned out there was someone in the stall next to me (wonder what he was thinking...).

I went back to the bandstand to help with the load out. I went over to my drummer and explained that I was the culprit. He laughed for about 5 minutes straight - no exageration. My singer/guitarist asked what was so funny, so I filled him in. "That was you? Man - I was wondering where that came from!" Needless to say, more laughter.

Figured I had to share this with my fellow TB'ers. Hope you enjoyed it nearly as much as I just did re-living it! :cool:

This one wasn't at a show, but it wa funny enough to share. My wife and finished dinner, and we're walking down the street and we see a young couple making out and looking all romantic. At the same time, I felt propulsion in my bowels and let out a loud one as we walked past the lovebirds. Instantly my wife started yelling at me and whacking me for ruining their romantic moment. From that point on, I just started laughing until everyone on the pedestrian mall looked at us and wondered what was going on.

O.K.here's my second story

First off...

Here we go...

This gig was at.....

These gigs are ....

The owners ....

The first set went great.

Call me a bad person,....

Thinking I had just pulled off one of the best band fart capers to date...

A man in a black tux ....

The second set went better ...

Cheers.


He wins. Period. King and ruler of the FART.


Call me a bad person,....

Yes, you are a bad person, but you are a bona fide TB legend. ( I changed that to be "You are a legend"!)

Matt

Wow...thanks Matt...I fart in your general direction...;)

Cheers.

Two days ago we had to shorten our gig, because the drummer was about to **** himself. During the one of last songs he passed some gasses in the middle of playing, and we know it's gonna blow soon ;)

Great gig tho :D

During a gig, full dance floor,heaps of punters,BAAAAAAAAD stink starts rising from the floor. Not us,a dancer has let one go! Couldn't believe how bad it was.The band fell over itself trying to get away,we couldn't leave the stage!!!!!Our singer walks to his mike and utters these now lengendary words........" OK people,who just dropped their guts,seriously.....the cops will be responding to a call that someone just died in here!"

I posted this story in a fake fart thread, so I figured I'd add it to the real fart thread for posterity.

Recently I was at the Hollywood Bowl to see Thievery Corporation. If you've never been to Hollywood Bowl it's a bunch of transplanted yuppies from anywhere but California smiling and pretending to be super mellow and cool. You know typical fake LA people. Anyway, my buddies and I we were standing around drinking a beer kind of by our seats but not really. We were standing behind our seats where another fake LA couple was sitting. Well mid-sip of my beer I suddenly had to sneeze. It just came out, one of those hearty sneezes, except I had a mouthful of beer, and since I was holding my beer, I really didn't have a way to cover my nose. Well needless to say, snot, and beer came flying out of my face and all over the clean and pristine napes of the couple sitting in front of us. At the same time, I farted so hard it honked, and it was stinky, because the night before I had Korean BBQ for dinner.

So this fake LA dude turns around and stands up with a complete and utter disgust. My friends are looking at me slack-jawed. Their minds are blown at what they had just seen. I promptly offered them a beer from my cooler (they allow coolers at the Hollywood Bowl), because men don't apologize, especially for something as grand as that physiological spectacle.

"Bro, that was disgusting," the fake LA guy said cleaning the back of his neck, and tending to his chick.
"Yeah," I said. "You guys want a beer?"
"No," he said. "Seriously, that was disgusting."
Then from the row behind me, another fake LA couple piped up.
"You should smell the fart he just blew out," said this chick. She sounded so cute saying "fart".
"You should leave," the LA guy said.
"Yeah you should leave," said his chick with my snot on the back of her neck.
"**** You buddy," said my DJ. "Get the **** out of our seats, or he'll **** on you!"
The guy looked at me, and I nodded to confirm that he wasn't kidding.
They left bent and bitter. The people behind us that got the brunt of the fart were still suffering. Before we took over our seats, one of the dudes piped up.
"We'll take those Sierra's you offered them though."
Fair enough. So I handed them a Sierra Nevada each. They earned it. :)

Double barrel blast...Well done!:hyper:..and well told.

Cheers.

Yep dunnit - and well I may add...

Couple of gigs ago I let one out which pushed the whole band to the other side of the stage. Rated 8/10 I'd say!

this is seriously, the best thread ever

this is seriously, the best thread ever


If you have not read it, read Part 1 of this thread. (http://www.talkbass.com/forum/showthread.php?p=5990837#post5990837)

Warning:

Do not try to drink coffee and other liquids while reading. Also, try for some privacy as your co-workers may be wondering why you are howling in laughter at your desk.

Two days ago we had to shorten our gig, because the drummer was about to **** himself. During the one of last songs he passed some gasses in the middle of playing, and we know it's gonna blow soon ;)

Great gig tho :D

:D

That reminds me of a joke:

Why do drummers have half an ounce more brains than a horse?

So they don't disgrace themselves on parade!




Warning:

Do not try to drink coffee and other liquids while reading. Also, try for some privacy as your co-workers may be wondering why you are howling in laughter at your desk.

I know...it's already happened.

I gotta tell you- surviving through a nasty hurricane can do amazing things to your alimentary system. The weird concoctions that people devise to gain calories and use up the meat getting ready to spoil are rather...unusual, to say the least. As are the emissions resulting from said culinary fare.

What's really funny is that, since there is no power on my street, people have been leaving their windows open for ventilation, which, in the early morning hours and late evening hours, gives new meaning to the German term for flatulence, "Night Music". I was sitting on the couch when I heard a very loud, protracted fart coming from one of the houses behind us. It was obvious that the issuer was in gastric distress, as evidenced by the moan that followed. Then there was a short, loud report, much like a gunshot, with the sound of feet running to the toilet. The slightly more muted sound of buttocks on the throne vibrated loudly as their own "hurricane" started, then ebbed as the "brown eye of the storm" passed over the bowl. The backside of their storm was much more severe, much like Ike was. The winds wailed, the waters churned, and I don't even want to KNOW about the debris field from that one! After a few minutes, all was quiet. You could hear the tide going out as the floodgates opened, flushing away the remnants of that storm. Still not sure who it was, but I have my suspicions...

Thank you Bassic83 for making me laugh so hard they're threatening to throw me out the library.

OK not from a gig but:


My old office was divided by a wall and a door.
One side was the boss and the cubicles and on the other side were the servers, comm rack, etc. The server area was really cold because we have to keep the servers cool.....

One day I felt like a B-52 bomber over Germany. Bombing the cold small server area with fetid, rancid and rotten bombs. Making my very own Cold Gas Chamber then, one of my coworkers entered from the other part of the office.....PAUSE......FACE DISTORTED IN DISGUST.....COUGH......GAGGING ALL THE WAY BACK!!!!

15 minutes later he came back to see(smell) if the room has cleared and he got a Fist of Stink in his face and started gagging again!!!! The cold preserved the stench!!!


FUNNY AS HECK! I laughed my butt out!!!!

Oh man, i've been lurking at this forum for a while, but this thread has made me finally register!!!

My friends and I rent a small studio space downtown where we can make as much noise as we want between 5:30pm and 8 am, we have a set of drums, two guitar amps and my bass rig there, along with a well-stocked mini fridge. It's a small room, so when you have four people jamming the smell can get bad every so often. Anyways we're not shy about claiming our farts, so we came up with a signal- tug your ear then squeeze your nose. Anyone who's new to the space won't know whats going on until it hits them!

So we're playing a gig on friday, our new drummer doesn't know about the signal, so at one point my guitarist walks right in front of the drummer during his guitar solo- hits a long note, while it's ringing out he takes his free hand and does the ear-tug-nose-grab thing. Bonus points to him for doing it mid-song. I just shook my head and laughed, but then I felt one coming on, we had had greasy bar food a few hours before... So I walked over towards the drummer, waited until I was playing half-notes underneath a guitar solo.... then made sure the guitarist was looking at me, and let rip. I think I matched the A I was playing..... anyways did the signal, all the while the drummer is wondering what the heck is going on, and who was responsible for the air pollution. After the show he would not stop complaining about it.

I guess I'll share too,..... years ago, the guitarist and I were prone to flatutory excellence,....that has a nice ring to it doesn't it? :D Anyway,....in mid gig,...we would look at each other,..smile,..and then both walk back to the drummer,...grinning like madmen,..one on one side of him, one on the other,...and let fly with odiferous offerings of bar food delight!!! After about the third time of subjecting the poor guy to this,.... he shouted,..NO!!!!...and threw his sticks at us in a vain effort to keep us away. He did get us back by dropping onions into the air vents on the guitards van though,.......paybacks are hell !!! :bawl:

Well, any thoughts of me not claiming my daughter as my own have been completely laid to rest- I picked her up at her mom's for our weekly visit (which, due to scheduling conflicts on both our parts, has been two weeks since I saw her), and we ate at Sonic (there's a reason they call it Sonic, too...). After I ate a salad and she ate her order of cheese sticks, we headed out for an afternoon of fun at the mini-golf place. They have games inside as well.

As she lined up for the fourth hole, I noticed a certain funk in the air, she smacked the ball out into the parking lot. When she went outside the gate to retrieve it, I let a little one slip out, quite unnoticed by the foursome behind us. We continued. After the last hole, we decided to go inside and play the games. I gave her some tokens, and she went immediately to the skee ball machine. I bent down to put a token in the machine next to hers and my nastrils were assaulted by a very odiferous plume of kid-stink. She was laughing, as dear old dad had a look of disgust on. So we continued to the end of the game.

She ran off to find a machine that would give more tickets, and found one called "Ride the Lightning", in which you try to hold on to a grip that gives off a slight, but increasing electrical charge. Kind of like a voluntary tasering, IMO. She had it up to about 90%, and was getting a huge ticket payout. She wanted me to do it too, so being the good dad I am, I complied. I grabbed hold, and felt the tingle start, around 50% it was getting a tad uncomfortable, but I was determined not to let her win. That's when a pungent, noxious aroma filled my nose yet again. She was standing next to me saying "Almost there, daddy!" The fumes were deadly, with an oily, acidic quality to them that only a kid can emit. You know the kind. Smells a little like a bad diaper. I got it up to about 85% and it got worse! Was it bad wiring? Would I pull my hand away to find blisters? Was it the smell of burning flesh? I thought it might be...

Her giggling as I let go at 85% let me know something was up. With all the little kids in there, I couldn't pin it on her. After all, she's 7. She has more control than that (and she hasn't worn diapers for 6 years!). This same scenario happened at almost every game we played. I thought it was the crusty-nosed little 5-year old boy that kept following her around. He had his eye on her, and wanted to do whatever she did. I thought it might have been the hyper 6-year old at the next machine. ADD-boy, my daughter called him. I told her that wasn't nice, and she told me he goes to her school and that's what everyone calls him. He was like a human pinball bouncing around in the gameroom.

We left, and I took her home. As she went to the fridge for a bottled water, it hit me again. There could be no doubt. I confronted her- "Did you poot?"

She laughed, and said "No daddy. I FARTED! Poots don't smell. Farts do!" My ex, who was cooking something at the range, was barely affected by this gaseous emission. She looked over at me with annoyance and said "That's YOUR daughter. She's just like you. She does it all the time- sometimes she blames the dog, but she's been known to clear the living room while we're all trying to watch a program together!" :D
I told my ex that I'd been smelling that odor at the game room. She asked if there was anyone left over there, or did we get kicked out- which got my daughter laughing in a big way- apparently she got kicked out of a skate rink for cropdusting some boys!

Yup, that's my girl.

Soon she'll be smoking cigars, too....you're doomed.

I have a little clone too, it's scary....

This thread gives a new meaning to GAS ...

Well actually an old meaning to GAS ...

I dropped 2 very violent, very smelly nuggets during Saturdays matinee show. Fogged out the rhythm player on both, the lead guy ran away and the drummer was missed completely!

Fast forward to our last set that night.

Karma.

Got hit in the teeth by such a rotten fart I could taste it. Was all I could do not to walk off the stage (I'm the lead vox). Thing is, no one owned up so either one of us was lying or one of those 3 plump broads dancing in the front farts like a truck driver.

I dropped 2 very violent, very smelly nuggets during Saturdays matinee show. Fogged out the rhythm player on both, the lead guy ran away and the drummer was missed completely!

Fast forward to our last set that night.

Karma.

Got hit in the teeth by such a rotten fart I could taste it. Was all I could do not to walk off the stage (I'm the lead vox). Thing is, no one owned up so either one of us was lying or one of those 3 plump broads dancing in the front farts like a truck driver.
Probably the one on the left...

Probably the one on the left...

She WAS the biggest come to think of it....:eyebrow:

This came from a member of a car forum I frequently visit, and while not really about farting, still made me laugh....enjoy.

Quote:
When I was 17 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to have sex. I, as one might expect of a 17 year old, was excited. Neither hell nor high water was going to stand between me and my final destination.

I get ready for the night, trim everything up, shower extra well. Unfortunately there was also an issue. I have a digestional disorder that sometimes cause my **** to become large and quite solid while still inside me. I wasn't aware it was a treatable problem and, in fact, just thought everyone had to deal with the equivalent of anal kidney stones. I bring this up because I had a mighty one which had been loaded into the gun for several days.

Let me set the scene. Her parents are away. We have her house to ourselves. She was always a little kinky so she demands we do it in her parents bed.

I walk in to a candle holocaust. She's been working on this all day apparently, and its as bright as high noon in there with the lights off. Which is good, because she proceeds to do a sweet, sexy little dance for me. At 16, she was AMAZING. For those of you who never experienced a female at that age, I pity the fool.

Now I'm sitting on the bed, watching this dance. I smile and tell her how good she looks. Unfortunately, most of my attention is focused on the dull throbbing from my sphincter and the large amount of intestinal discomfort associated with not dropping duce in days. But somehow I still get hard and we go to town.

She starts out on top, then we switch. I bend her over the bed, and I even smack her ass (a ballsy move at the time, but she loved it). Due to my built up distraction, I last for what seems like FOREVER. She can't stop moaning and telling me how good it feels, and then she says what every man wants to hear "I want to make you go in my mouth." I **** love women.

So she goes down on me. She was always average at best in the head department but at least she tried. She pops my **** out of her mouth long enough to look up at me and say "tell me if you like this". Then I feel it.

She stuck her finger up my butt.

My brain hits the panic switch and every muscle in my entire body locks up tighter than a three year old virgin. But its too late.

I take a massive, PAINFUL, PAINFUL ****, all over her parents comforter.

No, you aren't understanding. I mean large. Huge. IMMENSE. Take your largest **** and multiple it by forty-two and you'll have an idea of what flew out of me.

And gents, when I say flew, I don't mean "I pooped." I mean "projectile". I mean "hurricane force winds hitting an umbrella stand". And due to my condition, it comes out as a large, dark brown, smelly harpoon.

I know it hit her. I didn't see it. She ran screaming "OH MY GOD OHMYGODOHMYGODEEEEEWWWWWWWW" but I always imagined that, due to her position, it hit her right in the chin. Or at least the ****.

I would like to say I got up to go after her. But I heard the bathroom door shut and I just lied there. The smell hit me after a few seconds. It smelled like someone rolled a cat in **** and threw it into a tire fire. I looked down and saw, to date, the largest bowel movement I've ever heard of laying on the bed. Then I noticed the blood, and when I did, I noticed the pain.

Apparently the fact that it was so large caused it to rip my butt a little bit (thought I was bleeding from the inside. This little doctors trip the next day is what taught me of my condition). There was a small pool of blood where my ass had been. A final reminder of the exact place and moment I lost my virginity. I will treasure this memory for all my days.

I grab my **** with my hands and go to the downstairs bathroom. I throw around 1/3 into the toilet and flush, fearing any more will clog it and only add to my already significant woes.

I stand there, holding 2/3's of my biggest **** of all time, feeling a trickle of blood flow down my leg, trying to ignore the sharp pain stabbing my rectum. I find myself wishing I had a photo of this.

Anyway, I finish flushing my baby, clean off my hands, jam toilet paper between my cheeks (I skipped the bandaid) and went upstairs. I could hear my girlfriend sobbing from behind the bathroom door. I decided not to say anything to her and just keep moving. The smell in her parents room was abysmal. Its like when you take a **** and walk out of the bathroom you think "hey not so bad today," but then you walk back in to grab your magazine and go "HOLY ****!". It was one of those moments.

The scene is burned behind my eyelids for all time. My life. My shame. My very first time smelled like a pile of dead babies. I quickly got dressed since the heat from ten thousand candles was making the room feel more like a port-a-potty. I was aware enough to grab the comforter on my way out and drag it downstairs to their washer. Also the top and bottom sheets since the blood had leaked on through all the way to mattress. Still no sign of the GF but at this point I considered it a blessing.

I jammed in the washer with 3 loads worth of detergent and set it on spin, knowing that not even the hand of God would save these linens, let alone Tide and Snuggles.

Then I left. I avoided my GF's calls for days until she came to my house. We had a long talk about what happened. Talk being synonymous with "breaking up with me because I **** on her". And it was all over. She promised not to tell a soul and I don't THINK she ever did. She was probably as ashamed as I was about the whole deed. But I will always this happening as the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.

Woww... That's pretty awful dude.

My drummer has a technique we affectionately call the trumpet. We all fart, a lot, but this guy has [i]mastered[/] his anus, in ways indescribable with words.

The trumpet, is when he lets a decent fart, usually Taco Bell related, build up, then gets a hand back there and works it like a mute as it lets out. It's magnificent. We've yet to catch one on stage with the mic, but we keep trying to.

I jammed in the washer with 3 loads worth of detergent and set it on spin, knowing that not even the hand of God would save these linens, let alone Tide and Snuggles.


I'm just glad I didn't take a drink before I read that...what a horrible story!

About ten years ago, walked into our practice space with two other members of my college band. As we were walking down the stairs to where we were set up, we noticed a pungent odor. We played in a circle during practice, drum kit, and 3 amps made the sides. In the middle of our circle, there was a single piece of lined paper with an enormous duece steaming on top of it. The three of us were saying stuff along the lines of, "holy cow, dude thats sick, omg," etc. I actually started gagging a little bit.

Then we hear a snickering from behind some stuff in the corner of the room. We go over there to check it out, and find our singer laughing his ass off. With tears in his eyes, he admits doing the awful deed. And then he walks over and uncovers a video camera.

Our singer crapped on a piece of paper in our practice space, and secretly taped it for laughes. We all chuckeled, but wondered what was wrong with him at the same time.

check out my hobbies & interests

Alright here are three of my best (all non gig related). First a little about me;

Mine are powerful - unholy, demonic, satanic powerful. They aren't molecules of gas they are living sentient entities, think about a massive mobile Army. They spread out lightning fast and subdue any opposition (the ability to smell any normal air). Now after a night of drinking they are multiplied by a factor of about 10^3. With that being said story time;

First Story

I was around 7 or 8 and we had just got a big snow. I begged my parents for a new sled (my old one was destroyed after an incident with a tree and a fake deer). Everyone at school had the new cool circle sleds so of course I too needed one. My dad was on call that night and had to work so the duty of taking me to Dunham's fell on my mothers shoulders (if she knew what lay in store for her she would have never left the house).

We go to the store and I find the sled I want right away. We are waiting in line and behind us is a guy my dad knows and who also happens to be our neighbor. My neighbor and my mom start exchanging pleasantries and something in the baseball section catches my attention, being a typical little kid I bolt off after it. Problem is seconds before I run off I let out a silent warrior, I can just watch as this ninja like fart rears back and kicks my neighbor right in the face.

His face contorts into that classic pose when someone detects a funny smell. His eyes immediately narrow in suspicion as he gazes at my mom. I run back over beaming and I hear him cough and murmurer "forgot something....far away from here." By now my mom realized what I did, I get the typical did-you-just-do-what-I-think-you-did? look.

The whole ride home I get berated by my mom and when my dad comes home my mom tells him the story. Needless to say there was a gleam of pride in his eyes.

Funniest thing? It's been over ten years since this happened and my neighbor still looks at my mom with disgust, she will always be known as the fart woman to him.

Second Story (somewhat embarrassing I suppose)

In a similar vein to the other virginity story mine takes place on the night mine went away. I met her at a party so I was drunk (not terribly but I was in a good place).

We go back to my apartment and needless to say entertain ourselves, my energy was explosive. We maybe got an hour of sleep. Now I had had GF's sleep over before so I wasn't a stranger to sleeping with someone but I had never pretty much been awake the whole time she was there. Combine being drunk with no sleep and I ended up hung over (see note at beginning). She left around 11 AM (I had met her about 12 AM). The almost 12 hours of holding it in was turning my stomach into a ticking bomb. I went into the bathroom for the stereotypical post-sex-piss and that's when it tore out with the force of the hydrogen bombs.

I have never had a fart this loud in my life, the acoustics in the bathroom were superb. When it exploded forth it seriously sounded like someone breaking a massive wooden post, there was a huge crack and an extended ripping noise. The acoustics amplified the sound and my roommates wall was shared with the bathroom (4" interior wall) it carried through and woke him up. The smell also shut down the bathroom for an hour or so.

Third Story

This is my pinnacle.

Freshman year, a quiet Sunday afternoon, I am as you guessed it hung over. My roommate (who annoyed the hell out of me) and I are at our desks and I let one go.

It was magnificent.

Immedately he began sniffing and here is the dialogue; (I'm bold)

*sniff sniff* "dude do you" *sniff* "smell that?"
"no dude what the **** are you talking about"
"it smells" *sniff* "like eggs" *retch* "and old cheese"
*I lose my composure*
"you bastard!" *sniff, cough, retch* "what the hell did you eat"
"nothing dude just beer"
"oh my god" *sniff retch cough* "this is terrible" *retch* "I can't" *retch* "I think" *retch* "I'm gonna be sick" *retches brigns hands up to mouth* "need air" *runs out of the room*

I am hysterics, tears are streaming down my face. I stick my head out the door and watch him run into the bathroom. Now the dorm hallways carry sound well and the bathroom door was wide open that day as fate would have it.

My ears are treated to the sound of retching and coughing and then the tell tale vomit splash.

I will pass this story down to my sons, and hope they have one this powerful one day.....

Woww... That's pretty awful dude.

My drummer has a technique we affectionately call the trumpet. We all fart, a lot, but this guy has [i]mastered[/] his anus, in ways indescribable with words.

The trumpet, is when he lets a decent fart, usually Taco Bell related, build up, then gets a hand back there and works it like a mute as it lets out. It's magnificent. We've yet to catch one on stage with the mic, but we keep trying to.

I laughed so hard at that first paragraph that my parents came upstairs to check on me! God knows what they thought I was doing. :D

I was around 7 or 8 and we had just got a big snow. I begged my parents for a new sled (my old one was destroyed after an incident with a tree and a fake deer). .



now THAT sounds like a story :ninja:


_Kar

Unfortunately the crash was not caused by methane propulsion so its not appropriate for this thread!

Unfortunately the crash was not caused by methane propulsion so its not appropriate for this thread!

I WANT to read it anyway:hyper:

Instagator, That is a very funny story. Brought tears to my eyes. Good tears.

****
10 mins. after entering the above.

I am reading through the thread, laughing like all get out. My wife comes in & asks what I am laughing at. I say guess. She says porn, the kind with nekkid girls. I said no, fart jokes & stories. She says "I would be happier if it were porn."

I have a good wife. She knows what's important in life.

edg

This came from a member of a car forum I frequently visit, and while not really about farting, still made me laugh....enjoy.

Quote:
When I was 17 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready...

I have tears streaming down my face. I reached about half way through, and then struggled to read the rest because I was crying so much. Well done. :D

I have tears streaming down my face. I reached about half way through, and then struggled to read the rest because I was crying so much. Well done. :D

I just read this story again. And I'm crying again... :D:bawl::D

Just a bump for the greatest thread ever.

Remind me never to sit it on drums for any of you guys...you're all disgusting.

Remind me never to sit it on drums for any of you guys...you're all disgusting.

yes... yes we are....

we most certainly are...

you love it...

Had one today, a beautiful specimen. I was in an alley between two 2-3 story buildings. Very nice acoustics, as a plus when I turned the corner I realized there was crop dusting potential as I spied a victim approaching my personal smoke screen. Alas I will never know if it hit him, because I was in a hurry and couldn't hang back to see the results.

yes... yes we are....

we most certainly are...

you love it...

I'd still prefer not to hit the studio with any of you guys...I'd get bombed during my fills knowing my luck.

Had one today, a beautiful specimen. I was in an alley between two 2-3 story buildings. Very nice acoustics, as a plus when I turned the corner I realized there was crop dusting potential as I spied a victim approaching my personal smoke screen. Alas I will never know if it hit him, because I was in a hurry and couldn't hang back to see the results.

Win!

One time in college when I was into working out and drinking those protien shakes. Now protien shakes have come a long way in 15 years. Back then you drank protien, you would clear any room and your bowl movements were like buckshot. Anyway President Clinton was at the university giving a speach one day. I was on my way to work out and just injested this protien drink. All of a sudden I see Wolf Blitzer from CNN walking down the hall toward me, at the same time I feel this pressure and gurgling build up in my intestines. Well I layed a steady steamy 30 second nose hair roaster. Kind of stopped walking for a second to break it off from following me then proceeded on my way walking past Wolf Blitzer. Needless to say I heard Mr. Blitzer exclaim to his friend he was walking with.."wow it sure reaks down here". He friend was fanning the stench from in his nose and looking back at me. Well there you have it folks my brush with fame, farting and crop dusting Wolf Blitzer.

One time in college when I was into working out and drinking those protien shakes. Now protien shakes have come a long way in 15 years. Back then you drank protien, you would clear any room and your bowl movements were like buckshot. Anyway President Clinton was at the university giving a speach one day. I was on my way to work out and just injested this protien drink. All of a sudden I see Wolf Blitzer from CNN walking down the hall toward me, at the same time I feel this pressure and gurgling build up in my intestines. Well I layed a steady steamy 30 second nose hair roaster. Kind of stopped walking for a second to break it off from following me then proceeded on my way walking past Wolf Blitzer. Needless to say I heard Mr. Blitzer exclaim to his friend he was walking with.."wow it sure reaks down here". He friend was fanning the stench from in his nose and looking back at me. Well there you have it folks my brush with fame, farting and crop dusting Wolf Blitzer.

Winner... and stilll champion...

Kind of stopped walking for a second to break it off from following me then proceeded on my way


Awesome technique, man! :cool:

Note to self: Never read this thread over lunch.

Had a 6-hour meeting yesterday. I had gyros with feta for dinner the previous night, and this has a great effect on my gas generator...

There are 18 plant people in the meeting. I am the facilitator, which means I gotta run the thing. Directly across from me is the plant manager. Nobody is next to me, and I'm on the end. After the break at 1030, everyone is coming back into the room and taking their seats. The table is a long oval, and there is a projector right by me. The fan on it blows hot exhaust air at the plant manager (so THAT's where he gets it! ;)). I feel a really bad cramp just below my belt line, with an accompanying burning sensation- I know this has the possibility of being a seam-ripper. However, there is none of the stretchy, burbling underpinnings of a gas giant, so I am convinced it will be a slider. As the person speaking is droning on and on, I casually lean back in my well-upholstered chair and relax...I fold my hands behind my head. Without forcing anything, I let loose a barrage of silent, acidic fumes. They travel underneath the table. I think I've gotten away with a silent chemical attack, however...

That table is made of different sections, and the half-moon that comprises the end where I and the plant manager are sitting, and where the projector is located, has a gap for the cables. While carefully dissecting the PowerPoint slide, and arguing it's merits- or lack thereof- the extremely toxic cloud leaks up through the crack. It enters the cooling grate of the projector, where it is superheated by the lamp, and is expelled. Now, attending this meeting is a guy who is known as "Stinky". Anyone who has read my post in Part I of this thread knows this guy, as I have written about him before. He has the rep around the plant, not me. He is the second spot over from the plant manager. In between them is my direct boss, or was supposed to be. As it happens, he got a call during the break, and hadn't come back in yet, leaving an empty chair between "Stinky" and the big boss.

I could almost SEE the vapors being drawn into the cooling vent on the projector...and I just knew there were only two things that could happen here-

A) the expelled gasses would be burnt up by the high heat of the lamp, possibly resulting in a flame, but no smell as it exited

or

B) the high heat, combined with the furious pace of the fan, would act as a WDS (Weapons Delivery System), greatly magnifying the stench and effects of the toxic cloud...

It was B.

The plant manager, having been peering intently at the screen, had a comment. As he turned to address the table, he caught it full in the face. His eyes watered, but he had the strangest look on his face. It was almost as though he had just realized he had cut his finger while slicing a tomato or something. He shot an immediate look at "Stinky", and made a comment in front of everyone.

"Wow...someone needs to change their diet!"

I had done it! I had cropdusted the big boss!

Instagator, That is a very funny story. Brought tears to my eyes. Good tears.

****
10 mins. after entering the above.

I am reading through the thread, laughing like all get out. My wife comes in & asks what I am laughing at. I say guess. She says porn, the kind with nekkid girls. I said no, fart jokes & stories. She says "I would be happier if it were porn."

I have a good wife. She knows what's important in life.

edg

Thanks gde...I remember that after the beers and shots that the bartender brought over...everytime that I would make eye contact with him he would just lower his head and shake it with a big grin.Ahh yes..those were the days...now when I fart out loud in public people almost expect it.I guess it's an age thing.;)

Cheers.

Bump

This thread seems to have run out of gas.......

OK I have a story.

I was doing an audition a couple of days ago (not for myself but the band were trying new drummers and their ordinary bassplayer was away). Now normally I stand but this gig I'd decided to play my RH bass lefty, and so needed to sit down.

The only chair that was usable was a chair with a terrible vinyl cover, like the ones you see in canteens. So I sat down and began to play.

A while later I could feel a rumbling but as I'd just eaten I mistook it for indigestion. So I carried on playing. BIG mistake- the vinyl of the chair sent the fumes UP and so I got a mouthful. It REEKED. So bad I stopped playing right in the middle of the song because I was coughing so badly.

:D

ROFLMAO
Man this is the funniest thread I have seen yet. I have a story to post, but no time right now. To be continued...

Bump!

This didn't happen at a gig, it happened at a jam with my old bandmates a couple of weeks ago.

I had some of those greasy Jack in the Box tacos about an hour before the jam.:D I had also had some greasy 'mexican goulash' the night before with a couple of pickled jalapenos and quite a bit of hot salsa.

About 30 minutes after we started, I felt a real good one coming on. I didn't want it to be reabsorbed, so I rode the fine line between holding it in for maximum bouquet and holding it too long and missing my chance.

Finally, when I judged it to be ripe, I let 'er rip! So loud, that I could hear it over the music. A nice, spicy sensation inundated my crack.

I decided to play it cool and act like nothing had happened, to see what impact it might have on the sensibilities of my buds.

We were in a 1 car garage converted into a bedroom, no windows, and the door was closed to insulate us from the other occupants of the house. We had one little fan for air circulation, and boy, did that flattus circulate!

My guitarist got a funny look on his face, and looked at our drummer. About that time it hit him too, and I could tell that they were enjoying the fruits of my bunghole's labor.

After the song was over, the smell still lingering in the air, they both looked at me, and I gave them a big grin, and a half hearted 'Sorry!'.:D

They paid me back before the night was over, but I am proud to say that I won the war. Their air biscuits were those cheap canned ones, mine was a gigantic made from scratch soaked in sausage gravy!:smug:

That's a ROFLMAO there good buddy! :D

One band I played with had a not too bright drummer. One rehearsal, totally out of the blue, he asks, "is there a medical term for farting... you know, like "espionage"? The rest of the band could not stop laughing. He was totally serious, and thought that was the right word. From then on, we committed espionage at every opportunity.

One that brought tears of joy to my eyes;

I went on a short get away to the Lake District. Stopped in a pub and had some steak and kidney pudding. Well my stomach was not used to this and it tore me up.

I went out the next morning and climbed one of the nearby mountains and had a can of beans and an oatmeal bar for lunch. I stopped in a little cafe for some tea to warm me up then bounced off for my next adventure.

Quickly my stomach was in the middle of contractions, I could feel something about to be birthed.

I was walking down a crowed street in town and had no one following close behind so I let the SOB out. At that time a guy in a fedora was approaching me. He walked past me and into my vapor trail. Now I had my iPod in and was listening to Knights of Cydonia (not a quiet song by any means), I could hear him retching over that. Tears of joy streamed down my face.

Later in the hostel as I was having my fever and chills I just continually ripped them and some guys came in to turn in for the night and one exclaimed "some one is farting in here!!!" the other said "I know it smells like **** lets just get the **** out."

It was a good trip.

First a public service announcement and then a quick story

PSA:

Back when Jive was looking for a concoction to help demonstrate his "stage presents" with his new band, he got a lot of the normal suggestions - White Castle, beans, cabbage etc but one of those suggestions was Kashi Go Lean Crunch cereal. I would have never thought about that suggestion again except that my local grocery store had Go Lean Crunch on sale last week (Buy One Get One Free) so I picked up two boxes. After two days of feeling really gassy, I remembered that thread and realized the cereal was the reason.

Here's the deal though - yes it give you incredible gas, but (for me at least) it isn't of the "nose hair burning, paint peeling, disgusting smell" kind. It's of the "unbearable pressure in your lower abdomen, no way to stifle it, this is going to wake the neighbors when I let it out" variety.

Story

So this last practice, my RHCP tribute band was gearing up to do a new demo. When we showed up at our drummers house he was finishing setting up everything to record. First thing was to soundcheck the drums. He went in his office (where the computer he uses for recording is) and had my guitar player beat on the drums, checking each mic and readjusting.

Knowing we were going to do bass next, I got the second vocal mic and adjusted it to the height of my hind quarters and turned up that input on the mixer. He asked me to slap a hard open E to see what my max level was going to be. Instead, I let loose an enormous blast of booty fumes right into the mic. It was loud and brassy to where it sounded less like a fart and more like someone putting all their force into a baritone sax. From inside the room (the door was closed) we hear him yell, "something's wrong, do that again". I can barely stop shaking from laughing to let another one rip. This one is clearly recognizable as a left cheek sneak. He walks out with an annoyed/pissed off countenance to find us all doubled over in laughter while he's trying to be serious.

Finally, he looks over at our guitarist and growls, "I don't know what you're laughing about - you have to sing into that mic."

I have bad food allergies and thus problems with gas. I've been in trouble at work over it and it actually contributed to me not getting a job because i was overheard farting at work by my prospective future employer. It's funny but it's not.

So here's a couple-

Our drummer was a furnace. He had this huge fan he bought at an industrial supply place. It is about 3 feet in diameter. Well he would turn it on in the jam spot which was really small and you could feel a breeze no matter where you stood. I stood a mere 3 feet from the backside of the fan. When i had bad gas it was awesome- we'd be playing a song and the instant i farted you could see the others scowl, the fan spread it around that fast.

I was playing in a vegetarian straightedge hardcore band in 2000. We had a big show at a small club coming up that night. The singer lived close by and decided to have his wife cook dinner for us and she made a meal with a meat substitute called Veat. It was really good so i ate a lot. Then my food allergies kicked in. We got to the club, set up and waited. I kept going outside to vent and even took a dump trying to get rid of the enormous amounts of gas building inside of me. No luck. The 5 of us were on a small stage and the place was packed front to back. Both guitarists and the singer were on the other side of the stage and people had actually backed away from the stage due to the odor! One of my friends claims he has the show on video, including the part where the singer goes on a rant about my rotten a$$.

I'm glad i found this thread. While browsing the site before i cracked one off on the hard wooden computer chair while slouching down. A midwife and a girl were in the next room discussing what's going to happen during her birth. She's talking and there's this riiiiiiiiiip and an awkward moment of silence, then me going "whoops!" :)

I forgot the studio story-

I had eaten some sort of vegetarian meat substitute for dinner then proceeded to the recording studio to start recording a few songs for a 7". I show up and when we start recording in the room i started letting them rip. Meanwhile the drummer mentions he forgot to put on deodorant. After a half hour or so we head into the control room to listen to the tunes and the engineer yells- "hey you guys, come on! It smells like armpits and a$$holes in here!" We were amused, he wasn't. On the 7" we credited the engineer as Bill "armpits and a$$holes" Korecky ;)

I just farted. It was a juicy one, too!:D

I am laughing too hard to fart. I look like I have been crying. You guys are truly amazing, and I am glad to know you all.

edg

I forgot how funny this thread (and the previous one) is. Seriously THE funniest threads on TB.:D

I just farted. It was a juicy one, too!:D

So, in other words, it'll itch when it dries??

I just scratched.

I was able to do the elusive "Scooby" fart once a few years ago.

By careful control of my embouchure and diaphram, I was able to produce the dual toned "ru oh" sound.

Randy

We had some kind of health and wellness meeting at work last month, and they passed out these samples of GoLean Crunch. It wasn't too popular. I ate two of them, my buddy ate about three. He's on cholesterol meds and also eats oatmeal every morning for breakfast.

Later that afternoon, I was in my office prepping a PC for deployment, when I felt a rumbling. A deep, burble racked my lower abdomen. I knew what was coming next, or so I thought. I was able to throttle the emission back, resulting about 30 seconds of blissful, though largely silent, pressure relief. I was proud of myself, as nobody could have heard it. Then the second wave hit as I stood up- there was no masking the sound of that one. It was vintage butt-trumpet solo in Eb minor! I heard my buddy down in his office start to laugh, then a large POW as his gas bubble burst (probably due to his laughter)...I started laughing as well, and fired of a machine-gun salvo, short bursts of high-speed, abbreviated reports...yeah, like a "burp gun", but upside-down.

We were both staggering out of our offices laughing, he was blowin' and goin', making like a dragon was chasing him. It was a riot! The contractor supervisor offices in between us, he is a deep East Texan, and he came out to chastise us in his deep drawl-
"Y'all need to STOP! I can't do my paperwork in here with you two runnin' y'alls butts like that! That's disGUSTin'!" We looked at each other, turned around, and hit him with stereo double-barreled madness, then went outside to laugh some more. :hyper::D:D

Another time, I wasn't feeling too well, and passed a bad one at my desk. It about choked me out, smelling like rotting veggies, a little bit like the county dump, and an acidic bite to it that made your eyes water. I thought it was starting to clear, then the cleaning lady came in to mop my room. She had the weirdest look on her face when she came in. She turned the mop up and sniffed it, then looked at me, then my refrigerator. She doesn't speak much English, but told me in no uncertain terms that I had something bad in my fridge, I needed to clean it out. That was a little embarrassing, but I agreed and she quickly mopped and left in a hurry. :D:D:D

It took me four days, but I finally made it to the end of both threads!!!! I've never laugh so hard, so many times in my life!

Well, on to my torrid tales of toxic adventures....

I was working day shift with a massive beer hangover from the night before. I was already rather gassy from drinking beer and eating pizza the night before. For lunch I ordered Mexican and ended up eating some onion rings one of my coworkers had left over. When I got off work I ate a couple protein bars before a half hearted workout the showered and got dressed to go out for the evening. It was Saturday night and I always went dancing on Saturdays at a very upscale night club not far from where I lived. This is the kind of place the was full of Doctors, Lawyers and other professionals so all the women went there to try and meet a husband. It was the best place in town to meet good looking women. As I'm driving there I'm dropping bombs in the car, so bad I had to keep the windows down even though it was the middle of winter. I walked into the night club and I didn't even really feel like being there. My stomach was rumbling and I still felt like crap from the night before. As I looked around I just felt disgusted watching all these phony people in their breeding rituals. I walked to the bar and felt some sliders slipping out with each step. The kind that feel like they were super heated way above body temperature. I ordered my beer and turned back to see people looking at each other with accusing eyes, watering accusing eyes and making faces. At this moment I knew why I was there. I started walking through the crowd dropping A-bombs everywhere I walked. Then I'd stop and casually check out the devastation I left in my wake. I spotted a girl I knew there and asked her to dance and took my stench to the dance floor and unleashed even more toxic waste. The girl I was dancing with smelled it and said something like "someone chit themselves, lets get out of here." I nodded and we got off the dance floor. She said she had to stop at the little girls room so I waited by the door talking to the doorman who I knew from many other evenings there. As we were talking people kept leaving, some even commenting on the foul stench to the doorman. By the time she got out of the bathroom most of the bar had cleared out very early for a Saturday night. My female friend finally came out and we left, heading back for my place for a night of dancing under the sheets. So here I am on top of her trying my best to hold back and not let one slip. The whole time I felt more and more pressure building and the more I concentrated on holding it back, the more it held back the other part of what I was doing. The sex seemed to go on forever and all I could do was wish for it to end. Finally after what seemed like an eternity I "finished". I climbed out of bed and cleaned up, still holding back as she was in the next room. I made an excuse saying I had to get up really early and I had to take her home. We pulled up to her house, a quick good night kiss and she was walking away. I always watch to make sure they get in the house safely, but once she got to her door, I finally felt safe enough to cut loose the pressure. As soon as I started the release, much to my horror she turned around and started running back to the car. It was too late, the escape had already begun and there was no way to stop the gas leak. Before I could stop her, she opens the door and said "I think I dropped my.... OMG! What the...., It was you!!!!" To which I calmly replied "what?" as if I didn't smell anything. Of course she knew better and I couldn't hold back much longer, I started laughing and as soon as the laughter started, more farts came out. I was busted. The next day, much to my surprise, she calls me up and asks what I'm doing next weekend!

Wow, mine must have stank really bad since it seems to have stopped this mega thread. ;)

Wow, mine must have stank really bad since it seems to have stopped this mega thread. ;)

There's no stopping an epic force such as this. It's just lying dormant until the next BIG eruption... :D

Some very nice ones to share tomorrow. I'm far too tired now to relate these tales!

Rocks, that story was awesome. I also have to thank everyone else who has contributed to these threads, especially bassic83, for all the laughs.

Since this one has been quiet for a little bit I think I'll finally contribute. Most of these aren't even slightly bass related, but here we go.

The Loudest
I was at Boy Scout camp. I think I was 12, maybe 13. It was pretty lame, definitely didn't want to be there. Anyway, it was skit night. That means that every Boy Scout troop from bumf%&k, WI performs a little mini-play for every other Boy Scout troop from bumf%&k, WI, and it takes ALL night. So these dudes were doing their skit. It was a bad one. I mean... it was bad for a boy scout skit, that's saying something. I'll never remember what it was about, but I remember It was long, and everyone was bored.

You will never understand how perfect this was. I will never remember what the line was. I just remember that it was a question; one of the guys asked the other guy something. And just as the other guy opened his mouth to answer, I let one rip. I knew it was going to be big, but even I was surprised. The gas exposure rocketed out of me, and rumbled across the ground. I heard it echo a little bit.

Everyone (hundreds of people) exploded laughing. I got the biggest laugh all night.

The Largest Quantity
In response to Jive's quest for the ultimate paint peeler, I'll share one of my personal favorites: Glass Nickel Pizza. I don't think it's a national chain, but anyone in/around Madison, WI should hopefully know what I'm talking about. I'm slightly lactose intolerant. I can eat dairy products, but when I do, you don't wanna be near me. The pizza I got on this particular occasion has a lot of meat on it, and Glass Nickel always smothers their pizzas with cheese.

I was EXPLODING, and it was time to have band practice. Everyone showed up, and we started to jam. I kept letting out these huge, loud, long farts. I only released when the band was playing, so nobody heard them, and they didn't smell that bad. Unfortunately, there were a lot of them. After about a half hour, somebody said something. "What smells so bad." I said I didn't know, and turned on a fan. The band I was in at the time practiced in a space that had no ventilation. I flooded that room. We wend out for a smoke because we had to escape. When we came back, nobody could stand the smell. We called off practice for the day.

The Most Potent
I was in High School. I can't remember what class it was, but we were sitting with all of the desks in a circle. I wish I remember what I had eaten, because it was probably the greatest combination of all time.

I had been farting all day. They were small, they were quiet, and they were nasty. I thought they were gone when I came back from lunch and went to class, but not five minutes in, I felt that familiar pressure building. It was a lot of pressure, which was shocking because the actual exposure was so small. If I had to guess how large the actual bubble of gas that escaped from me, I would have to say it was significantly smaller than a dime.

This was, however, the most powerful gas exposure I have ever graced this earth with. I wanted to leave the room (yeah, it was that bad), but I sat stone faced. Then I heard coughing... The people on either side of me were absolutely dying (remember, we're sitting in a circle). I still sat completely still, acting like I didn't smell anything, when I heard more people coughing. I looked up and I could almost see it spreading; more people were asphyxiating on either side of me. I, of course, kept my cool. I acted perfectly normal. Then I looked around. Everyone else in the room was dying. Everyone was looking at me. They all knew. I just started to laugh. Amongst the coughing I heard the teacher croak out "Kevin*cough*... omigod*coughcough*... What*coughcoughhackcoughcough*... What did you*coughGAAAAAAAGGGcough* WHAT DID YOU EAT?!?!?"

Everyone had to leave the room. I was proud.

The very last gig I have played,(sadly),I had the feeling of a huge butt trumpet note ready to blow, so I backed up to my cab which was mic'd, planted my behind right over the mic, stopped playing for a sec, and ripped a huge green fog fart. Laughed so hard because it was VERY easy to hear it.

I told the story of my stealth bomb that made a woman think her baby loaded his diaper in the original thread, but here's another one on the 16th anniversary of the event.


Back in my undergrad days at Penn State, I had a schedule one semester that had a nice gap from 11:45-2:30. I wasn't in the mood to deal with bassoon methods class that day (I was a music ed major). I decided to head into town for a toxic lunch. I started off at Zeno's with a pitcher of Harp/Guiness layered black and tan and split it with my friend Matt (who had the same bassoon methods class). We proceed to taco bell and drop about 10 bucks each on food (when soft tacos were .69, double decker were .99). We finish up by walking back to Zeno's for another pitcher, and then headed up to the music building, our stomachs already beginning to churn.

At that time, the new music building was under construction, and the bassoon prof's office (where we had class) was on that side of the old building, so he had to keep his single window closed for noise reasons, and the door closed to not bother the other music profs. He also was very straight laced and devoid of humor, and felt that we should all neglect our primary instruments to concentrate solely on the bassoon during his class (yeah, right....).

We get our instruments out, and Matt warns our classmates that we had a nuclear lunch, but to keep it quiet. The prof comes in, and starts class. About 10 minutes in, it feels like I'm playing a silent drone as a counterpoint to the bassoon part I'm playing, but the folded metal chair is buzzing slightly. About 10 minutes later, about 6 of which were spent releasing SBD's, the prof wrinkles his nose, exclaims, "Somebody must have forgotten to do their laundry or something. I can't take this. Class is done for the day. Go. Now, I need some air."
So the 75 minute class was cut to about 20.

I told the story of my stealth bomb that made a woman think her baby loaded his diaper in the original thread, but here's another one on the 16th anniversary of the event.


Back in my undergrad days at Penn State, I had a schedule one semester that had a nice gap from 11:45-2:30. I wasn't in the mood to deal with bassoon methods class that day (I was a music ed major). I decided to head into town for a toxic lunch. I started off at Zeno's with a pitcher of Harp/Guiness layered black and tan and split it with my friend Matt (who had the same bassoon methods class). We proceed to taco bell and drop about 10 bucks each on food (when soft tacos were .69, double decker were .99). We finish up by walking back to Zeno's for another pitcher, and then headed up to the music building, our stomachs already beginning to churn.

At that time, the new music building was under construction, and the bassoon prof's office (where we had class) was on that side of the old building, so he had to keep his single window closed for noise reasons, and the door closed to not bother the other music profs. He also was very straight laced and devoid of humor, and felt that we should all neglect our primary instruments to concentrate solely on the bassoon during his class (yeah, right....).

We get our instruments out, and Matt warns our classmates that we had a nuclear lunch, but to keep it quiet. The prof comes in, and starts class. About 10 minutes in, it feels like I'm playing a silent drone as a counterpoint to the bassoon part I'm playing, but the folded metal chair is buzzing slightly. About 10 minutes later, about 6 of which were spent releasing SBD's, the prof wrinkles his nose, exclaims, "Somebody must have forgotten to do their laundry or something. I can't take this. Class is done for the day. Go. Now, I need some air."
So the 75 minute class was cut to about 20.

And that is why Penn State owns. Zenos has never torn me up but that Taco Hell did a number on me and my friend a few months ago. I do live above Zenos next semester so there's still time for it!

About 30 minutes after we started, I felt a real good one coming on. I didn't want it to be reabsorbed, so I rode the fine line between holding it in for maximum bouquet and holding it too long and missing my chance.


Man, I've had this experience too many times. You feel a nice bun warmer coming, and the heats all there. You get ready to share a paint peeler with your loved ones, and wait for your moment to pounce. Then when the time comes, poof! Nothing. :crying: It gets reabsorbed.

Farting is truly an art, as well as skill.

Man, I've had this experience too many times. You feel a nice bun warmer coming, and the heats all there. You get ready to share a paint peeler with your loved ones, and wait for your moment to pounce. Then when the time comes, poof! Nothing. :crying: It gets reabsorbed.

Farting is truly an art, as well as skill.
Ain't that the truth...

And that is why Penn State owns. Zenos has never torn me up but that Taco Hell did a number on me and my friend a few months ago. I do live above Zenos next semester so there's still time for it!

If Dave Staub is still head bartender there, ask him if he remembers Zim from the mid-90's (I'm on the wall a couple times for the passport, and I wore a Red Wings jersey quite frequently). If he's still there, I may have to come out for Arts Fest this summer.

On the subject of 'silent but deadly' Always check when rehearsing that the guitarist has not brought his dog, who is a real music freak with him! Never has a room cleared so quickly or for so long in the history of band practices. Nor have so many musicians been bent double outside trying not to puke!

Not me, but a friend.

We were young and foolish in those days, at least yound and foolish enough to consider that drinking beer from 10 to 3 and then going for some late night greasy pizza was a good idea, especially if you had an important audition the next day. This guy was a pretty good classical guitar player and the audition would seal his fate regarding his enrollment as a music major.

We had partied pretty hard and eaten godawful crap, so the gasses were in full effect when I woke up in the morning. He had no car at the time, so I drove him to the audition. All the way to his place, I felt like I was working on R&D for some chemical warfare program. The fact that I had eaten McD sandwiches in the morning probably helped.

The dude gets in the car and only says: "I see that you are experiencing the same troubles as me". We roll down the windows and I encourage him to let them loose so he'll be empty comes his time to audition.

This was not so. He was wearing suit pants and the stench followed him around the building up to the waiting area. When his name was called, you could see the woman who was in charge of the audition wrinkling her nose a bit. I waitred for him outside and he was playing fine. Then I heard him stumble a bit, but he regained his composure and finished his two pieces with brio. Clapping was abundant but he still made a quick exit after very brief handshakes. It was also pretty funny to see him almost rush out of the room and back to the hallway.

I asked him why he was in such a hurry to leave and his answer is still vividly engraved in my memory:
"I took a gamble and I lost".

And surely enough, I took a look at his suit pants and there was a visible round stain next to his cargo chute: this guy had shat himself, in public, while performing a Bach piece. I had to go buy a tarp at Canadian Tires to put on his seat (mom's car) while he hapazardly tried to scoop the oatmeal out of his shorts. We never knew if the professors who were there knew about his "accident", but the stench was THERE for sure.

He passed his audition with flying colors.

The Tunnel Fart

I was with my girlfriend and her two daughters watching a Cleveland Indians baseball game. During the game we were drinking some beers and eating the normal baseball game foods, hot dogs with lots of onions and other assorted munchies. After the game (The Indians won) we were walking through this tunnel that leads from the stadium to the parking areas. The whole tunnel was full of people leaving the game, all talking ludly and carrying on because our team just won. I felt pressure building up fast and thought to my self that no one would ever hear it with all the noise in the tunnel. I couldn't have been more wrong. Te acoustics of the tunnel amplified the sound like a good deep bass speaker cabinet. in an instant the whole tunnel was dead quiet, everyone stopped talking mid sentence, literally hundreds of people were shocked into jaw dropping silence. I girlfriends daughter started to say something and before she could speak I turned to her and said "wow, that must have hurt" (as if she did it) and her mom just whispered keep walking, don't look back. By this time laughter was erupting everywhere around us, we just walked with our heads down as fast as we could and tried to blend in with the crowd. This was almost 10 years ago and we still laugh about the tunnel fart that shutup hundreds of people.

If Dave Staub is still head bartender there, ask him if he remembers Zim from the mid-90's (I'm on the wall a couple times for the passport, and I wore a Red Wings jersey quite frequently). If he's still there, I may have to come out for Arts Fest this summer.

When I get back in June I guess I'll have to pop in and ask. I started my passport in Nov, not very filled though, I tend to hit up the deli more because that's my end of town. In the fall I will be in zenos a lot I think.

Time to share my blasts.

The Tower of Terror:

My parents decided to come over and visit me so we went down to London for a few days. Of course we went to see the Tower of London. I had had a big english breakfast and was feeling the pressure. Standing in line to see the dungeon display some French woman was behind me. The entire time she kept hitting/stabbing me in the back of the head with her umbrella (never tried to say sorry or anything). After the hundredth time I decided enough was enough, she would soon experience the torture of the dungeon first hand. The pressure had been building for sometime now so I knew I'd have plenty of ammo. To enter the display you walk down a flight of steps and around a circular room maybe 20 feet or so in diameter. Well I let it go at the top of the steps, did a slow circuit of the room (to appear innocent and to give it enough time to lay). As I headed out I caught her eyes and the look of "what the hell is that smell" winked at her and mouthed bon appetite.

The Gas of War:

Next event was in Edinburgh. We were in the castle and walking through the Scottish War Museum, and I decided to frame my dad. Now him and I had had massive gas that day and I figured I would frame him and it would be the perfect crime. I walked over to an area I could see he would be at soon enough and let it blow. Well this was a wicked one it clawed its way out of my anus like some gaseous demon and just f***ed everyone up. I hadn't counted on this kind of power. A guy walked into the room and it was pretty much Raiders of the Lost Ark, you could see him smiling then see his face melt off. He ran out covering his mouth. My mom decided to loudly shout that was my son and pretty much everyone burst out in laughter. It was magnificent.

Bump to save

My buddy **** himself twice in brussels due to farts. He too took a gamble(s) and lost haha

Bump

Picture, if you will, the early days of band jam yore. Your rehearsal room is a cluttered 2-car garage that has likely never actually seen an automobile inside, but name anything else under the sun and it could likely be there. Oftentimes, items stacked to the ceiling in parts, forcing the path into an off-centered T corridor from the front of the main door to the side doors both in and out of the house. At the T intersection are your rigs, with forming one of the dog-leg corners of junk is the drum kit.

I had one of those grouchy days at work (restaurant). Well, it started okay, then just got worse as it wore on. By the end of it all, you'd rather just close up and get out of there. So, I hadn't thought much about actually eating myself. I knew we would jam after work, so I went home, grabbed my stuff, and drove over. Decided that I didn't like playing on an empty stomach, and since our jams often go from 11pm to dawn or so, grabbed a gas station Don Miguel burrito known as "The Bomb" and the biggest fountain energy drink they carried. What can I say, I'm a bit broke right now from other GAS problems, and it's the biggest filler for your money. Didn't think I'd have any problems until the next day. Was I wrong.

During play, I had a pretty busy line going when I damn near choked and started crying from a horrific stench. This one was eerily like the fragrance of the local sewage plant after a rainy day, as some genius architect put our city's plant in a heavily and easily flooded area. Guitarist stopped too, each of us delaying a few seconds and jumped back in with the most messed up faces you'll see for miles. I waited until the end to shout, "Dude, did your toilet back up or something in there?"
"What the **** you mean, I thought that was you?" was his reply.

Well, I dropped the subject. I don't remember passing any at all. We start the next song and I can feel this one coming on. Figured I'd prove my point - after all, if it wasn't me, it would smell totally different, right? Combined with getting a little tired of seeing the pointy pitchfork headstock really close to my head on a couple occasions, maybe he'd back away. He had scooted back a touch before, but there's only so much room. Did I mention the garage door is open, since it's a Missouri late spring? That stench was still lingering. So, I walked a little closer and dropped this bomb, then backed off, making it look like I was fiddling with a pedal. Nope, it was the same horrifying odor as before.

This time I cracked up laughing and blushed like mad with embarrassment at my mistake. I apologized, to which he only said, "Told you it was you."

I played with a band a couple weeks ago called moonshine missile (excellent band, hillbilly punk) anyway the entire band went over to their bass players house for burritos before the show, when they got to the venue the guitar player was lleaking some nasty gas. the rest of the band made shure to give him plenty of room onstage. i couldnt stop laughing, between songs the singer started getting frustrated and yelled "i love you dude but your ******* is tearing this band apart"

probably not as funny now, but i did almost spew my beer when i heard this

This wasn't a gig... but...

I was working for a company in a small office adjacent to its warehouse. I knew the guy that was a parts runner there.

One afternoon, after a super-burrito lunch off the local roach coach, I had to "express" myself. Suddenly, in a moment of inspiration, I thought of the warehouse; What a great idea! it was open and always a noisy place. Perfect! An added incentive was that the parts runner was deaf. He could not hear me. What freedom, what a god send! I had it made.

After desperately making my way into the warehouse while "nursing the urge," and being assured the parts runner was nowhere nearby, I let her rip with a wide grin of freedom.

To my delight, it echoed more loudly than I thought it would.

To my horror, the parts runner quickly approached me from across the warehouse.

I confidently knew that he couldn't have heard anything. I kept my grin and causally greeted him with an even wider grin, knowing also that no human could smell anything from that distance.

To my horror, he contorted his face showing disgust. Holding his nose, he said quite loudly, "You farted!"

His direct indictment literally froze me with guilt. In that instant, I recalled my comic book days of reading the Dare Devil. The story goes that after Matt Murdock (aka the Dare Devil) lost his sight, his other senses became super keen. I came to the brutal reality that the warehouse runner must have also developed keen secondary senses. His quick response, contorted nose and changed demeanor unmistakenly told me that this wasn't the first time someone did this to him.

I laughed, said sorry, and dragged myself back into the offices to finish the work day.

The "Dare Devil" didn't speak to me for a week. Never did it in the warehouse after that.

This legendary thread has lain fallow for far too long, here
is a well deserved bump for our new members.

thor your bump has raised my spirits and dashed them!

Well, it hasn't happened yet, but if you saw my other thread about being upset with a band mate this thread has given me an awesome idea. I have one last gig to play with this band and its on Labor day weekend. So now I must wreak my revenge before I defart, I mean depart the band. I'll have to fuel up the ole gas tank before the gig with the most potent combination's I can think of (without fear of sharting of course) and let him have it all three sets. I'm thinking a couple of protein shakes, some broccoli and a couple hard boiled eggs outta do the trick. I report back once the mission is complete :D

thor your bump has raised my spirits and dashed them!

^ this.

Well, it hasn't happened yet, but if you saw my other thread about being upset with a band mate this thread has given me an awesome idea. I have one last gig to play with this band and its on Labor day weekend. So now I must wreak my revenge before I defart, I mean depart the band. I'll have to fuel up the ole gas tank before the gig with the most potent combination's I can think of (without fear of sharting of course) and let him have it all three sets. I'm thinking a couple of protein shakes, some broccoli and a couple hard boiled eggs outta do the trick. I report back once the mission is complete :D

Glad to be of service.

Check out the first two (previous) threads, they are totally
hysterical. They should be linked on the first post of each newer thread.
There were a couple of posts that will make you
scream with laughter. Don't want to give it away, but
they got a bit buried.

Glad to be of service.

Check out the first two (previous) threads, they are totally
hysterical. They should be linked on the first post of each newer thread.
There were a couple of posts that will make you
scream with laughter. Don't want to give it away, but
they got a bit buried.

I've read this entire thread and have been a subscriber since I first laid eyes on the title. :D

I'm thinking a couple of protein shakes, some broccoli and a couple hard boiled eggs outta do the trick. I report back once the mission is complete :D

If you can find some cajun smoked turkey at the local deli (Wal-Mart carries it), it is delicious, nutritious and good for gas. Have a protein shake a few hours before and then hit up the turkey maybe 15-30 minutes before go-time :smug:

Well, it hasn't happened yet, but if you saw my other thread about being upset with a band mate this thread has given me an awesome idea. I have one last gig to play with this band and its on Labor day weekend. So now I must wreak my revenge before I defart, I mean depart the band. I'll have to fuel up the ole gas tank before the gig with the most potent combination's I can think of (without fear of sharting of course) and let him have it all three sets. I'm thinking a couple of protein shakes, some broccoli and a couple hard boiled eggs outta do the trick. I report back once the mission is complete :D

add some hot sauce

Hahaha how the heck did I miss this thread for 1100+ posts?

Typically, our rehearsals are preceded by the guitarist and drummer going out for burritos at a local mexican place, so by the end of practice, they're both stinking up the place. Last night I had the fortune of getting some pay back while we were setting up for our gig. Had a steak and cheese with broccoli, mushrooms, and onions for lunch.

Revenge is sweet, but it smells so rancid.

Woww... That's pretty awful dude.

My drummer has a technique we affectionately call the trumpet. We all fart, a lot, but this guy has [i]mastered[/] his anus, in ways indescribable with words.

The trumpet, is when he lets a decent fart, usually Taco Bell related, build up, then gets a hand back there and works it like a mute as it lets out. It's magnificent. We've yet to catch one on stage with the mic, but we keep trying to.

Its all in the embouchure, dude. Pitch control, vibrato, articulation...

Randy

I asked him why he was in such a hurry to leave and his answer is still vividly engraved in my memory:
"I took a gamble and I lost".

And surely enough, I took a look at his suit pants and there was a visible round stain next to his cargo chute: this guy had shat himself, in public, while performing a Bach piece. ....
He passed his audition with flying colors.

The most important lesson of all learned that day.... The show must go on!

Randy

I was playing a gig at a VERY small venue called Eleanor's Tavern in a tiny town in Washington state, just over the Idaho border. My old band (I was just a teenager playing with a bunch of older guys) used to play there about once a month or so as my drummer was friends with the owners.

We would set up just outside the bathrooms after they moved a few tables out of the way. There was no stage or anything, just us tucked into a corner. It was getting pretty late in the evening and the place was packed. We had people dancing literally right in front of us. We were right in the middle of Cat Scratch Fever when our singer just stopped singing. I looked over to see what was up and saw the craziest look of surprise and revulsion I have ever seen on anyone. I watched the corners of his mouth turn down and his nose crinkle just as his head snapped back in an effort to get away. About then, I realized what must have happened and tried to start moving away but there was no where to go. This thing fell on me like an avalanche and I started to gag. :eek:To this day, that is the single most foul smelling fart I have ever been witness to and I've been known to knock tile off a wall myself. It smelled like someone had been eating rancid tuna sandwiches smothered in bad coleslaw and deer guts while washing it all down with week old dirty dishwater. :bawl:

The worst part is, we were completely trapped with NO possible escape and an entire dance floor filled with people between us and the exit. I'm standing there with my eyes watering trying not to puke, and blearily watching my bandmates enduring the same through the tears. Considering the looks on all our faces, it must have looked like we just witnessed a ritual murder or something. Then...it starts making it's way through the crowd. I start to see some light at the end of the tunnel thinking to myself "Hey, everyone will clear out and we can get the hell out of here!". Well, I was right about that but as it turns out I was overly optimistic about how quickly the mass exodus would occur. Whoever greased their shorts with this lovely little cookie was right up front with us and it took like what seemed about 3 days to make it to the back of the crowd. I put down my bass, stepped up to the people in front of me, put out my hands, leaned forward to put my back into it, and just started pushing. I think I might have been the first one out! Stiff-arm FTW!

After we got outside and I made sure my band mates were all right (this part looked like the aftermath of a fire after everyone gets safely out of the building and people are standing around coughing, just glad to be alive) and I noticed my guitarist was missing. Well, I was just going to wait to find out what happened to him because there was NO WAY I was going back in there until the wait staff had a chance to open windows, air it out, and possible check with the EPA to make sure it was safe to go back inside. About 30 minutes later we went back in after repeated assurances that it was safe to do so to find out what became of the guitar player. Personally, I feared him dead. I just knew he was going to be laying face down in front of his amp, blue, cold, and very still with blood on his neck from clawing at it as he suffocated.

Fortunately he wasn't dead, but he might have wished that he was. He had been all hung over from tying one on the night before and had been struggling to keep it together before any of this even started. When that wall-o-putrid hit him, he threw down his guitar and bolted into the bathroom to hurl his guts out. The best part? The toilet was stopped up after someone left the mother-of-all-floaters in the can, and as you know, that kind of thing doesn't stop bar patrons from continuing to use said toilet. Yep, ol' Keith got down on his knees to puke and hadn't really noticed the problem because his eyes were still watering from the previous tear in the time-space continuum. Just as he opened his eyes to make sure he was on target, an entire toilet bowl loaded with shite and wizz stared back at him. I understand that the force with which his lunch left him was catastrophic in proportion, and something akin to the yield of a 100 mega-ton nuclear weapon. He managed to stagger to his feet, still vomiting at power-washer velocity and made it over to the garbage can. He upended it (it was full) and finished the deed. After splashing some cold water on his face while dry-heaving, he made it to the bar to let the owner know what was up. He had been cleaning and mopping for a good 15 minutes by the time we got back inside.

Ten minutes later, after the rest of us got our laughter under control we finished out the night. There was a brief PA announcement before we started up again to let eveyone know that if they needed to "express" themselves they had better leave the bar first or we would be done playing for the evening.

Poor Keith, I don't know that I've ever seen anyone look so forlorn as he did just a-swinging that mop around that jacked-up little bathroom. That's my story folks. Thanks for reading.:D

The toilet was stopped up after someone left the mother-of-all-floaters in the can, and as you know, that kind of thing doesn't stop bar patrons from continuing to use said toilet. Yep, ol' Keith got down on his knees to puke and hadn't really noticed the problem because his eyes were still watering from the previous tear in the time-space continuum. Just as he opened his eyes to make sure he was on target, an entire toilet bowl loaded with shite and wizz stared back at him.

I can't believe how unbelievably graphic and horrific this is.. Yet SO effing funny. I feel bad for that dude.. hahaha :p Great story, man. :D

I can't believe how unbelievably graphic and horrific this is.. Yet SO effing funny. I feel bad for that dude.. hahaha :p Great story, man. :D

Glad you liked it, it actually made me laugh when I went back and read it myself! It's just another great memory of gigs gone by. By the way...I just farted.:hiding:

Rush named their album "Vapor Trails" after me.

Rush named their album "Vapor Trails" after me.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v290/Stealth385/mysmilie_2871.gif

This thread is sick!:(





















Pull my finger..................

This wasn't a bass gig, I was playing organ for a wedding. It was easily the most redneck wedding I've seen - the groomsmen wore camo hunting vests with their tuxes and the rector had to stop them from cracking open a case of beast (Milwaukee's Best, a really bad tasting cheap beer) in the sanctuary.

Anyway, I'd had a rather large helping of burritos at home for lunch, and way too much sausage for breakfast. I'm sitting at the organ playing the preludes when the groomsmen come in. The way the sanctuary is set up, they're in a line with the organ located about 4 feet behind the last one in line. I feel my stomach start churning. The service proceeds to the readings, and I feel a gurgling in my innards. I subtly shift so the blast will go out towards the groomsmen instead of marinating myself in the fumes for the rest of the service. As I begin playing the music for the lighting of the unity candle, I feel things distend to a point where it felt like a fist was ripping out of me for about 8 seconds, but it couldn't be heard over the organ.

A few seconds after I finish playing, I hear a very small toot from one of the groomsmen, and then my stealth bomb hit them shortly afterwards, causing the best man to turn around and say a bit too loudly (you could hear him over the priest from the back of the sanctuary) - "My god, what did you eat"

I just sat at the organ and kept a straight face.

This wasn't a bass gig, I was playing organ for a wedding. It was easily the most redneck wedding I've seen - the groomsmen wore camo hunting vests with their tuxes and the rector had to stop them from cracking open a case of beast (Milwaukee's Best, a really bad tasting cheap beer) in the sanctuary.

Anyway, I'd had a rather large helping of burritos at home for lunch, and way too much sausage for breakfast. I'm sitting at the organ playing the preludes when the groomsmen come in. The way the sanctuary is set up, they're in a line with the organ located about 4 feet behind the last one in line. I feel my stomach start churning. The service proceeds to the readings, and I feel a gurgling in my innards. I subtly shift so the blast will go out towards the groomsmen instead of marinating myself in the fumes for the rest of the service. As I begin playing the music for the lighting of the unity candle, I feel things distend to a point where it felt like a fist was ripping out of me for about 8 seconds, but it couldn't be heard over the organ.

A few seconds after I finish playing, I hear a very small toot from one of the groomsmen, and then my stealth bomb hit them shortly afterwards, causing the best man to turn around and say a bit too loudly (you could hear him over the priest from the back of the sanctuary) - "My god, what did you eat"

I just sat at the organ and kept a straight face."Seed farts" and open "fart comments"... both par for a redneck wedding! LOL

My band had spent the whole night in Chicago, partying after a show, and then repeated the fun in Fort Wayne the next night. Mid set, the singer farted by the drummer (better him than the audiance). Chad (drummer) puked all down the front of his shirt! HE DIDN'T MISS A BEAT!

Here's a particularly potent brew:

A stew of ~1lb lamb cubes, 1 lb sausage, 2 onions, 6 cloves of garlic, slow cooked. My cube STUNK that day!

ian

Glad you liked it, it actually made me laugh when I went back and read it myself! It's just another great memory of gigs gone by. By the way...I just farted.:hiding:

Best post in ages! Hall of Fame material right there!

(HOF is in the Lobby, btw.)

Best post in ages! Hall of Fame material right there!

(HOF is in the Lobby, btw.)

+1 LOL!!!!

Cheers,
Jim

brrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaapppppppppp..................I mean bump

The link is on the first post of this thread.

A few weeks ago we were playing an industry showcase. For some reason the sound board was set up off of stage right. The sounds guys had their ladys with them and everyone seem to be enjoying our music. About 15 minutes into our set I could feel the pressure building. Not wanting to kill my drummer, I moved over near the side of the stage and let 'er rip. After I few seconds I looked over at the sound techs and they were looking at each other. This kept up for awhile and I could tell they were accusing each other! Their Ladys seemed to get disgusted by the constant stench and left them to suffer by themselves. After the show I shared this with the band, we all had a good laugh!

Cheers,
Jim

I was playing a gig at a VERY small venue called Eleanor's Tavern in a tiny town in Washington state, just over the Idaho border. My old band (I was just a teenager playing with a bunch of older guys) used to play there about once a month or so as my drummer was friends with the owners...

...Ten minutes later, after the rest of us got our laughter under control we finished out the night. There was a brief PA announcement before we started up again to let eveyone know that if they needed to "express" themselves they had better leave the bar first or we would be done playing for the evening...

Epic tale of a stale tail vapor trail!

Was Jive1 in the crowd by chance?

It should be back now:

http://www.talkbass.com/forum/showthread.php?t=174714

It's back!!
Feel free to edit out my posts in this thread now.

and

Many thanks!

Done and done ;)

Epic tale of a stale tail vapor trail!

Was Jive1 in the crowd by chance?

Ohhhhh, yeah. That would explain a lot...:eek:

So I play w/ a fan pointed at my head pretty much at all times...:rollno:

Not a show, but last nights rehearsal.

There's been something wrong with my digestion the last week or two. I get the feeling it's too much fiber in my diet - or more specifically, the right amount of fiber but my body being completely unaccustomed to getting much of it at all.

All day at work yesterday I just had pressure building in my abdomen with a few left cheek sneaks used to vent a bit when it got near unbearable. But when it did get that bad I ventured into the restroom and headed for a stall, but it was simply all gas relief. Loud and resonant but not smelly. Weird.

Well, it continued at rehearsal that night. Mild annoyance, but nobody really got upset because again, there was little to no smell. But man were they long and loud. It sounded like I'd smuggled a foghorn in my pants.

The last big salvo of the night was around 9:30 and it was composed of four long blasts and then the fifth one which literally lasted 5 or 6 seconds. I started gut laughing halfway through and it had a tremolo effect on my emission. No lie!

Of course, I'm feeling the same way again today and it is decidedly less funny holding them in at work than it was blowing them out at rehearsal.

Great thread. :D Just finished both threads, a two day epic.

Sadly, I have never really been gifted with flatulence of the radioactive type. I almost never get much gas, and the few farts I do come upon never stink.

EXCEPT TODAY.

Probably influence from reading the threads.

Anyway, today I was popping off huge ones. I blessed the high school halls with my "presence". I dropped the bombshell in the tennis locker room, now a hellhole of fallout and dead tennis players. I played my own brand of funk in jazz band. My cup had overflown. Life was good. For me, at least.

I'm not really sure what exactly topped off my tank. Whatever it was, it was lethal and lovely.

My band is blessed with the most stinkiest light guy ever. Likes to let loose while he's hanging the truss. You never saw 7 grown men scatter so quickly when he let's go. He always waits till we're all on stage too. :crying:


We must be related. LOL.

I have a bad habit of farting while at the top of the ladder, thinking it's gone, and then stepping down into it and knocking myself off the ladder...

darran

Just farted, stinks too. Pretty sure there is no peanut butter.

I have a good one...it was't me it was my wife....but it was killer! We were dating at the time, and were still in our puppy love stage of the game. We were wrestling around, tickling and poking...etc. etc.....I eventually let her flip me onto my back, and she sat on my chest. About 10 seconds later she pinned my wrists and farted right in my face....this was the first time she ever farted in front me, and I couldn't have been more proud of her. It stunk really f-ing bad too!

wow. just wow:D

A few weeks ago we were playing an industry showcase. For some reason the sound board was set up off of stage right. The sounds guys had their ladys with them and everyone seem to be enjoying our music. About 15 minutes into our set I could feel the pressure building. Not wanting to kill my drummer, I moved over near the side of the stage and let 'er rip. After I few seconds I looked over at the sound techs and they were looking at each other. This kept up for awhile and I could tell they were accusing each other! Their Ladys seemed to get disgusted by the constant stench and left them to suffer by themselves. After the show I shared this with the band, we all had a good laugh!

Cheers,
Jim

This is too funny....

Oh, man. I've spent the last few days reading both threads & laughing like a moron!! I'm saving some of these stories & compiling them in a Turd...er, Word document so I can print it & give it to my dad.

My dad may be the gassiest person I know. We enjoy bonding over heartwarming stories about the fine art of farting. My mom, on the other hand, likes to pretend that farts and farting are disgusting, unnatural, evil, and not funny at all. In fact, she won't even say the word "fart." And if any of my sister's kids say "fart" in my mom's presence, she'll flip out. Legend has it she'll even wash their mouths with soap. (For some weird reason, my kids can get away with saying "fart" around her without too much of a reaction.)

In recent years, my dad & I have come to enjoy bombing one another. Anytime he visits my house or I visit my parents' house, I'll calmly walk right next to the chair where he's sitting & let out a "fubble" (my term for a fart that feels like a bubble coming out). He'll then grab a pillow, his shirt, or whatever's nearby that would make an excellent air filter, and hold it to his nose. The dialogue is usually as follows:

Dad: "Payback is gonna be hell! Damn! What did you eat?"
Me: *chuckling* "I don't know!"
Dad: "You're gonna $hit all over yourself!"

Later he'll usually return fire when I'm in a similarly seated position somewhere. I just grab an air filter & laugh uncontrollably while he fans the unleashed beast toward me.

As funny as farts on their own are, they become twice as funny due to my mom's hatred of them! Here's another typical scenario:

Dad: *quietly & with a smirk on his face* "Hey, Bill. Ask your mama what happened in Wal-Mart today."
Me: *to my mom* "What happened in Wal-Mart?"
Mom: *totally disgusted* "Oh, shut up!! Your daddy pooted in the aisle!"
Dad: "I didn't think it was gonna stink! I just let that thing ooze on out! It was so rotten I had to walk to the next aisle."
Mom: "Yeah, and when he went back, there was a pretty, young girl in the aisle!"
Dad: "That thing was still lingering! When we got in the car, I had to blast again."

At this point, I'm usually dying with laughter.

One time I was driving my car behind theirs...I don't know where we were going, but it doesn't matter. As I was driving, I suddenly saw my mom fanning a newspaper toward my dad, then hitting him with it. I nearly drove off the road after doubling over with laughter since I knew what had just occurred!

Last night, my 5-year-old daughter cracked a loud-ass fart at me when I was bending over putting something in the dishwasher. I like to call it her toddle-rocket fart. It's tone & volume were impressive enough, but then the smell hit me. The instant the vapor cloud hit my nostrils, my daughter started laughing & fanning the air toward me. I dove out of the way of the toxic fumes as I unbuttoned my shirt so I could make my undershirt an air filter. But the damage had been done...the fart particles had entered my system. All I could do was yell, "Oh, my god!!!" as I gasped for air. After I had determined that no permanent damage to my health had occurred, my chest swelled with pride at my little girl's accomplishment.

Farts will never stop being hilarious!

Hey Bill,

Nothing like pride in your daughter, eh? Mine is 8yo. Her specialty is belching, not farting. And she belches LOUD & strong. As bad as any teamster you ever heard.

edg

Our drummer has this thing where he coughs extra loud when he farts, i think he got it from family guy, but anyways yesterday we had an acoustic gig and he starts coughing....oh man it was BAD! It was mid song too so we were stuck sitting next to him for a few minutes before we could adjust. Revenge is gonna suck for him.

Hey Bill,

Nothing like pride in your daughter, eh? Mine is 8yo. Her specialty is belching, not farting. And she belches LOUD & strong. As bad as any teamster you ever heard.

edg

My 1-year-old son is a great belcher! He gets that from me. I'm a much more accomplished belchist than a fartist, even though I can crank out a nice, rotten butt burner at times.

My daughter can do both. She's 8 as well. When she farts, it's a mixture of asphalt tar, strong ripe cheese, and rotting cabbage- just putrid...and she giggles about it, especially when it's in the car.

bumprrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!

whenever my Dad lets one go, he follows it up with the following philosophical observation:

"Aaah..........better an empty house than a bad tenant!"

This is yet another reason to go DI. Think about what would happen if you are on a tight stage, in front of a mic'd cab...

This is yet another reason to go DI. Think about what would happen if you are on a tight stage, in front of a mic'd cab...That situation was addressed a while back...

That situation was addressed a while back...Yup, the mods should take that post and make it a stinky.

Randy