Sunday, May 11, 2008

How many times can a man turn his head?

Sunday, May 11, 2008

While performing Ustrasana in my Yoga class this morning a participant let one rip. This happens every now and again, in all kinds of different poses. It's not remarkable and I would normally not remark upon it. But oh, this one was a doozey. Such an oozey doozey. It had length, it had breadth, but most of all it had an unmistakeable squelchiness.

I have no idea who performed this brief sonata of squidge due to the my facial arrangement at the height of this particular position. But respect, respect is due, due to this lady and her fluid flatulence.

Today's Title

10 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Sam, Problemchildbride said...

Not knowing what an Ustrasana was I looked up yoga poses and am only happy for all concerned she wasn't in an uttanasana. Length and breadth aside - you'd have needed you'd have needed to deploy some sort of graphic equalizer metaphor.

Was there gentle music playing or was it deathly quiet?

gimme a minute said...

Uttanasana is normally the main culprit, that or Downward Facing Dog.

'Moon Safari' by Air was playing. I believe it was 'You Make it Easy' at the time of release.

Medbh said...

I vowed to learn how to drive while on a bus heading to class many years ago. An obese insane woman sat next to me, began singing "you fill up my senses," lifted her haunch and farted on me. I, poor innocent victim, was reading Plato's "Republic" and minding my own business.

Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

Ha, Medbh! "You fill up my senses" - That's hilarious!

savannah said...

my mama used to say, "better out, than in" to this day, i have no idea wtf she was thinking, sugar! xox

V said...

You should be well experienced thanks to the joker who scheduled Makko Ho for a Friday morning..

Manuel said...

fan fucking tastic.....

gimme a minute said...

Such a sweet story. Bet you wished you had stayed in The Cave.

She had a point though squelch should be reserved for a more private environment, I believe.

This post was especially for you. I know of your love for the flatulent.

And I now know of yours.

I think I should limit myself to fart posts from here on in...

Sam, Problemchildbride said...

I don't think there's any blood getting to that woman's legs. Look at the colour of them!

Meg said...

There has always been a farting man in my life. When I was a little girl, my grandfather, a very successful businessman, would read the paper in his recliner at night and literally lift his leg and fart with no shame or “Excuse Me.”

Of course, when I got a little older, my brothers got a thrill out of farting. I left home and got married so I immediately had a farter of my own. Then, without missing a beat, I married again and had another farter. I swear to God, I had that one convinced that women just don’t fart.

Next, I was single for a few years but I was working as a nurse so I saw a lot of stuff much worse than farts. Then, I met the fartmaster. When my oldest son attained a certain age, he developed a facsination with farting that he pretty much still has. He laughs pretty damn hard at his own farts, but you can irritate the hell out of him by farting back at him.

When he and Rick where both living with me, it was one great big fart-a-rama. A few years ago, I was in New York and I had this great beef sandwich with peppers...three kinds. I went into the restroom and noticed what a hideous bouquet that sandwich had summoned. I smiled. I began developing my stratagem.

It was so marvelously brilliant and the timing couldn’t have been better. They were both in the living room watching television. I went back into the living room and sat down as though all was right with the world. Serenely secure in my evil scheme, I withheld the pressure that was my vengeance for the years of anguish to which I had been subjected by the fartmaster and his little partner in crime. I smiled cunningly as I remembered the silence that preceeded the appalling stench. I knew that there would be no forewarning for my victims. I waited until just the right moment and unleashed what was the most foul, repugnant, revolting “silent but deadly” that I had ever had the misfortune of suffering. And then I sat back and watched the consequences of my reprisal ensue. It was breathtaking...literally.

When the effects of my opus first reached their noses, they immediately glanced, accusedly, at each other. Then, they inhaled again. Oh, it was magnificent. I laughed so hard that I immediately gave myself away. They both actually got up off of their chairs. The looks on their faces were identical and said the same thing, “How can I leave the presence of this gruesome entity?” Their eyes went back and forth as though they were looking for an exit. You would have thought that they were a couple of mice in the presence of a lion. Such a sense of contentment, I have never felt. I assure you, that one fart made up for the years of olfactory assaults that these two yahoos had released upon me.


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