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This is a question * PFFT *

I've been pretty farty all week, but 2 large helpings of sausage and lentil stew last night have really tipped things over the edge. I swear you can see these ones.

I'm here at work trying to hold them in so I (a) don't have to keep nipping to the loo like a madman and (b) don't gas half the office, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. I might rupture something if I'm not careful.

Tell us all about your own fartiness.

(, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 14:01)
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Girl Fart of Death
Some years ago, I had an operation on my fallopian tube. Sadly for me, the operation wasn't the 'cut into the skin and be left with a kickass scar' type of operation but an -ahem- 'natural entry' type op. And I think we all know where the doctor was intending to shove his speculum.

Anyway, to make the op easier, a butch nurse had to stick a well lubed finger somewhere a woman had previously never explored. On the end of this (gloved!) finger was a pessary type pill intended to relax my unsuspecting mimsy. (If you're feeling sorry for me yet, it gets worse)

Anyway, I hadn't been allowed food for something like 24 hours, so I was somewhat suprised when the urge to poo swayed over my suffering self. I hopped off my steel framed bed, waddled (the urge was HUGE) to the loos, wearing nowt but an open backed hospital gown and a pair of big knickers, to the ladies.

Where I passed what can only be described as nuclear waste. Seriously. I'm suprised the toilet didn't melt. It was *yellow* (and I mean, neon had nothing on this literal shit) and it smelt like death itself. I know shit smells bad. I know. But seriously I needed a breathing mask. And it was my OWN. I'm so glad no-one else joined me in the loo in that 10 minute freakout. It seems these relaxant pills relax *everything*.

I waddled back to my bed after a good scrub-down, feeling violated. Even I didn't want to be with me right then, disgusted I was. I felt purged however, and sure the matter would not be repeated.

I had my op, and came to in some 'recovery room' which is basically hospital bollocks for 'if we lie all the invalids side to side we can check they're all still alive without having to walk too far' and then I was wheeled back to my bed to snooze. Snooze I did, for hours, and when I awoke, rather spaced out, my other half was sitting there, looking anxious. My first words? 'Where am I?' No. 'I love you?' Nope.

No, I let a soft and disturbingly long air biscuit float dramatically into the curtained enclosure. I thought there was a slight chance I had gotten away with it, as nothing was said. My nostrils then became gradually aware that this was not the case. I was still rather weak, and powerless to it's evil, meaty, poisonous fumes.

My partner's gaze changed from sympathy and love to disgust and confusion. His eyes started to water, his breathing stopped, he made odd choking noises. To make matters worse, a young nurse came into my pungent lair to bring me a cuppa. Nothing was said, but I SWEAR she gagged.

HOW BAD does a fart have to be that you make a nurse want to physically vomit? HOW BAD?! Nurses see exploded legs and popped eyeballs and all mater of vomit and snot and fecal abnormalities every day and don't even bat an eyelid!

I just lay there and grinned like a mong.
(, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 17:36, Reply)

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