* 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)
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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It was the dog...honest
My old dog used to love to play a little game when I walked her round the field which basically involved her running around me in a big circle, then straight at me, jumping up and nipping me and then running off again. In response, I developed the technique of turning side on so she bounced off my hip, therefore avoiding a flying dog landing it’s paws in my nuts.
One particular morning she started to circle, and when she came in for a strike, I turned my hips towards her and dropped a wonderfully loud baritone fart as she made contact. Off she ran, and when she came for strike 2, I let her have another blast. Another 3 times she came back as I tried to ration the fart gas, not letting it all go in one blast. Each fart got progressively weaker and higher in pitch, until I finally had to concede defeat, lest I follow through.
Laughing, I looked up to see 2 old ladies staring at me over the hedge absolutely agog. I could tell they didn't believe it was the dog.
( , Tue 17 Jul 2007, 13:33, Reply)
My old dog used to love to play a little game when I walked her round the field which basically involved her running around me in a big circle, then straight at me, jumping up and nipping me and then running off again. In response, I developed the technique of turning side on so she bounced off my hip, therefore avoiding a flying dog landing it’s paws in my nuts.
One particular morning she started to circle, and when she came in for a strike, I turned my hips towards her and dropped a wonderfully loud baritone fart as she made contact. Off she ran, and when she came for strike 2, I let her have another blast. Another 3 times she came back as I tried to ration the fart gas, not letting it all go in one blast. Each fart got progressively weaker and higher in pitch, until I finally had to concede defeat, lest I follow through.
Laughing, I looked up to see 2 old ladies staring at me over the hedge absolutely agog. I could tell they didn't believe it was the dog.
( , Tue 17 Jul 2007, 13:33, Reply)
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