Well
Although I am of the lady variety, I will admit to some of my more shameful and amusing gastric disturbances.

1. The scene: last September. I had an almighty case of food poisoning (which I got from work, and nearly got fired for -- a different story, needless to say I no longer work there). It was the third or fourth day in bed, meaning I could finally drink water and eat crackers. I was just waking up, with my boyfriend sleeping next to me. Felt a fart coming on and, as the boy was still sleeping, decided to just let it rip.
Which I promptly regretted.
Cue my mad dash to the toilet, and then wandering back to my bedroom stark-naked. I had not only shat myself, but as it was the liquid variety thanks to the fact that I hadn't been eating, it had leaked through my underwear and onto the bed. Then through the sheets, onto the mattress.
"How the hell am I supposed to get the sheets off with him on them?" I wondered. I put a towel under the sheet, and another on top. Which woke him up.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Um. I'm sick. Don't ask." He got up and left the room. I stripped off the sheets, and pulled out some cleaner. Cue me cleaning the mattress when he comes back.
"What in God's name are you doing now."
"I told you. I'm sick."
"What? Why... oh sweet Christ almighty."
"Just go away."
And then he nearly pissed himself laughing. I nearly died of embarrassment, then called all of my friends to tell them. THEN I nearly pissed myself laughing.

2. Sometime later. Alone this time. Lying in bed, needed to fart. Did. See above, only with no running commentary.

This is why I'm now the captain of the Crapped the Bed Club. There are far more members than there should be. I'm thinking of making badges.
(Ovum Factory, Tue 17 Jul 2007, 19:15, Reply)