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Farting during a show
- Thread starter jive1
- Start date
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Nothing like finally reading all of the posts in this wonderful thread to start the new year right!!!
Nothing like finally reading all of the posts in this wonderful thread to start the new year right!!!
This is one thread that deserves to be read in its entirety
from start to finish. 12 pages of outrageous laughter.
One of the best on TB, and in the 'TB Classic Hall of
Fame Thread', rightfully so.
New Year's Eve story ahead...
We're playing for my GF's restaurant, about 2-300 people, in the "new" restaurant they are getting ready to open. I go into the men's room, and there are several 6-8 year old boys in there. That right there is a bad thing. They were cracking up, one was groaning in the stall. I pulled up to the urinal, and was happily returning a drink, when I heard the loudest fart I think I've ever heard in a restroom! It was magnified by the fact that A
it was a large, tiled room, and B it was into the toilet bowl (very microphonic!) Somehow, I managed to ask these kids what was going on with a straight face. The "ringleader" on the outside of the stall was giggling like a schoolboy (which he is), and tells me that the other kid in the stall was fed ice cream. Not unusual. So I ask him what's so funny about that...there is another sound almost like a grenade going off, then the sound of liquids hitting the water in the stall. A muffled "Ohhh...urrrrrhhhh" emanated from behind the (thankfully) closed stall door. Then it hit again- the sound of a grenade, followed by the sound of Niagra Falls...the kid tells me "He has a dairy allergy! It makes him fart like crazy! He farted at this other kid in the other room, but he leaked! His mom made his dad go home and get him some other pants!"
The other boys in there were almost in tears. I left the room in utter amazement. Kids these days...
We're playing for my GF's restaurant, about 2-300 people, in the "new" restaurant they are getting ready to open. I go into the men's room, and there are several 6-8 year old boys in there. That right there is a bad thing. They were cracking up, one was groaning in the stall. I pulled up to the urinal, and was happily returning a drink, when I heard the loudest fart I think I've ever heard in a restroom! It was magnified by the fact that A
it was a large, tiled room, and B it was into the toilet bowl (very microphonic!) Somehow, I managed to ask these kids what was going on with a straight face. The "ringleader" on the outside of the stall was giggling like a schoolboy (which he is), and tells me that the other kid in the stall was fed ice cream. Not unusual. So I ask him what's so funny about that...there is another sound almost like a grenade going off, then the sound of liquids hitting the water in the stall. A muffled "Ohhh...urrrrrhhhh" emanated from behind the (thankfully) closed stall door. Then it hit again- the sound of a grenade, followed by the sound of Niagra Falls...the kid tells me "He has a dairy allergy! It makes him fart like crazy! He farted at this other kid in the other room, but he leaked! His mom made his dad go home and get him some other pants!"The other boys in there were almost in tears. I left the room in utter amazement. Kids these days...
I'm just catching up to this post. Outstanding. I would have been laughing hard if those little guys did that in front of me.
It was all I could do to keep from busting out laughing at them! Not with them, AT them! I immediately thought of this thread when it happened, and thought to myself "Self, you need to share this with your buddies on TB..."
Wow. I've just cracked myself up through 25 pages of fart stories. I have two stories, but I'll save the other one for later. The first story.
I used to do some freelance work for Sony Pictures. My contact and job source was a buddy of mine from a company we used to work at called Icebox.com. (perhaps you've heard of it?) Anyway, needless to say, it had been awhile since we all worked together. So myself, a few other icebox buddies that worked there, and my contact, head out to a little restaurant we call "Sketchy Mexi". It always a surprise what you get there. Delicious. But deadly. I stuck to my regular order. Chimichangas. 1. They've always done me right. 2. I've never had any post-meal issues AND 3. Chimichangas are one of the best inventions in the world - a deep fried burrito. So we go out to lunch.
That day, I'm presenting my designs for a website I'm building for them. Big wigs (Mercedes-driving VP's) are going to be there to sign off for the ensuing build afterwards so I was decked out in my monkey suit (what I'm wearing is important to this story). So we have our meal a laugh and a couple of Pacificos and head back to the office. The meeting was set to take place right when we got back. So on the way in, myself and my buddy hit the john. While pi$$ing at the wall unit, I let out a little safety fart.
As noted earlier, ettiquete required dead silence. My buddy zips up and proceeds to wash his hands. EXCEPT it wasn't a little safety fart. 
It was a no-warning full-blown a$$ geyser. My buddy is kind of waiting for me, so I casually told him to go ahead (still pretending like I'm pissing - I didn't want to move), saying something like I needed to "chuck a chunk" (12. Chuck a chunk... 13. Let the turtle out), and he leaves. Very carefully, ever so carefully (I was wearing boxers), I head over to the stall. I had to get my shoes off to get my pants off to get my boxers off. Unfortunately, having no proper dress shoes, I was wearing my 16 hole Doc Martins, which I had to carefully unlace and ever so carefully loosen to get my feet out. Somehow I managed to contain the warm mud in my boxers. Only a little ran down the back of my leg (none on my pants). Suddenly. Complications... Someone comes into the bathroom. He comes in... Noticeably gags, and leaves. I can only guess what his face looked like because I was frozen in the stall holding my boxers which were now essentially cotton baggy of mudstink (which was starting to drip). I had no pants on. So I poked my head out of the stall, ran nekked across the bathroom, and shoved the boxers to the bottom of the trash can which got it on my hands in the process. Then I heard another person open the first of the two door entrance to the bathroom. I bolt back to the stall. Before I put my pants on, I had get it off of my hand. Looking at the toilet, which had just been freshly spackled, I naturally flushed.... BLOCKED (I kid you not 
). I had my meeting in like 5 minutes. I wiped my hand as best as I could with toilet paper, managed to get my pants on with one hand. Then made it outside to wash my hands. Put my shoes back on and pulled myself together.
I walk into my meeting. My designs are signed off, and I managed to pull it off. Just at the end of the meeting, this chick I used to casually hook up with, comes up to me.
"You're a filthy pig".... My face lights up. Panic. She knows. Dread begins to set in. Then she continues. "Freeballer!" I just lost it and laughed so hard I was crying. She kind of looked at me weird and then smiled. "We're you drinking at lunch?"
I used to do some freelance work for Sony Pictures. My contact and job source was a buddy of mine from a company we used to work at called Icebox.com. (perhaps you've heard of it?) Anyway, needless to say, it had been awhile since we all worked together. So myself, a few other icebox buddies that worked there, and my contact, head out to a little restaurant we call "Sketchy Mexi". It always a surprise what you get there. Delicious. But deadly. I stuck to my regular order. Chimichangas. 1. They've always done me right. 2. I've never had any post-meal issues AND 3. Chimichangas are one of the best inventions in the world - a deep fried burrito. So we go out to lunch.
That day, I'm presenting my designs for a website I'm building for them. Big wigs (Mercedes-driving VP's) are going to be there to sign off for the ensuing build afterwards so I was decked out in my monkey suit (what I'm wearing is important to this story). So we have our meal a laugh and a couple of Pacificos and head back to the office. The meeting was set to take place right when we got back. So on the way in, myself and my buddy hit the john. While pi$$ing at the wall unit, I let out a little safety fart.
As noted earlier, ettiquete required dead silence. My buddy zips up and proceeds to wash his hands. EXCEPT it wasn't a little safety fart. It was a no-warning full-blown a$$ geyser. My buddy is kind of waiting for me, so I casually told him to go ahead (still pretending like I'm pissing - I didn't want to move), saying something like I needed to "chuck a chunk" (12. Chuck a chunk... 13. Let the turtle out), and he leaves. Very carefully, ever so carefully (I was wearing boxers), I head over to the stall. I had to get my shoes off to get my pants off to get my boxers off. Unfortunately, having no proper dress shoes, I was wearing my 16 hole Doc Martins, which I had to carefully unlace and ever so carefully loosen to get my feet out. Somehow I managed to contain the warm mud in my boxers. Only a little ran down the back of my leg (none on my pants). Suddenly. Complications... Someone comes into the bathroom. He comes in... Noticeably gags, and leaves. I can only guess what his face looked like because I was frozen in the stall holding my boxers which were now essentially cotton baggy of mudstink (which was starting to drip). I had no pants on. So I poked my head out of the stall, ran nekked across the bathroom, and shoved the boxers to the bottom of the trash can which got it on my hands in the process. Then I heard another person open the first of the two door entrance to the bathroom. I bolt back to the stall. Before I put my pants on, I had get it off of my hand. Looking at the toilet, which had just been freshly spackled, I naturally flushed.... BLOCKED (I kid you not ). I had my meeting in like 5 minutes. I wiped my hand as best as I could with toilet paper, managed to get my pants on with one hand. Then made it outside to wash my hands. Put my shoes back on and pulled myself together. I walk into my meeting. My designs are signed off, and I managed to pull it off. Just at the end of the meeting, this chick I used to casually hook up with, comes up to me.
"You're a filthy pig".... My face lights up. Panic. She knows. Dread begins to set in. Then she continues. "Freeballer!" I just lost it and laughed so hard I was crying. She kind of looked at me weird and then smiled. "We're you drinking at lunch?"
I think we ought to make this thread it's own forum- I nominate myself and SBassman as mods! Whattya think, Frank?
Whattya think, Frank?
I think we ought to make this thread it's own forum- I nominate myself and SBassman as mods!
I'm in.
And I'd be mighty proud to moderate a
Fart Forum
- Status
