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The F word was a curse word in my FOO... we didn't say it.

I'm a #3 even at home with DS and FWSO...

If I have to I excuse myself to the bedroom/bathroom.

One time I even went into the garage.

FWSO is a #2 - he isn't gross about it, but he gets embarrassed if DS is around.

DS rarely, if ever, lets one go.

Wow.

This thread is very enlightening. I just assumed everybody farted when they needed to (in their own house of course). Doesn't it give you a stomach ache not to?

Even our dogs fart a lot.

ETA Two words: Dutch oven !!!

[This message edited by authenticnow at 6:26 PM, May 17th (Friday)]

Even our dogs fart a lot

No; if there are dogs around, they are the ONLY ones who fart!

My mastiff, Tiny, used to do it, the turn around to look at her butt like, what the hell was that??

This is one of those topics that just makes me smile and think about how much I love SI. Nothing is too sacred or gross or weird to talk about - it's so fabulous!

That said, I guess I'm a 2-3 depending on where I am. I agree with others here, once you're over 50 it gets a lot harder to be a 3!

My mastiff, Tiny, used to do it, the turn around to look at her butt like, what the hell was that??

Our schnauzer used to yip and run when he farted.

and as long as Quincy was around, no humans in our house ever farted...

Darn you all. Darn you all to heck. Because I’m sitting here with tears streaming down my eyes, laughing uncontrollably. And in trouble.

Because my FWH calls me Ha-Poot. When I get into a laughing jag, he tickles me and I “poot.” Little lady-like ones. Unlike him, He Of The Spastic Colon who can clear out a room with little effort. Long, ripping, and smelling somewhat of week-old dead cow with a faint overtone of swamp gas.

Unfortunately, a true story.

I was at work one day and the firemen came to inspect the building. And I do mean FIREMEN. Two extremely fit and cute young men and one right about my age, looking lean, fit, and distinguished.

Not that I noticed, of course, because after all, I work in a church!

I walked them around the facility, they did their inspection, and then I needed to go upstairs to my office to get a permit they needed to check. No problem, I said. I bounded up the stairs, two at a time because, well, this old broad was fit too!

Trouble was, at the first bounce, when my foot hit the stair, I farted. Unfortunately, by that time I was in mid-air and, you guessed it, when my foot hit stair #4, I farted again.

12 steps divided by 2 6 farts. Jet propelled, you might say.

I stayed up there as long as I reasonably could, and then descended, 1 stair at a time, with the permit, which they inspected, and we parted company. None of us “quite” looking into each other’s eyes. Oy!

This thread is very enlightening. I just assumed everybody farted when they needed to (in their own house of course). Doesn't it give you a stomach ache not to?

There are only two kinds of people posting in this thread; those who admit to doing it, and those who are lying about it.

When I was a kid, my younger sister (the devil incarnate) called me a fart. My oh-so-eloquent retort was to yell that she was a farty barty.

Unfortunately, Mom only heard the retort. I was picking Ivory soap out of my teeth for days.

My father used to let a loud one rip, then yell "DUCKS!" (It does sound like a duck quacking when you think about it ( )

From that point on, we all yelled DUCKS except my mother who thought the proper response was, "Excuse me"

My father used to let a loud one rip, then yell "DUCKS!"

"Barking Spiders" is what we say.

Interesting thread!

I was a #3 growing up, as was my whole family. The (other) F-word was like a curse word...NOT to be said. I remember once when I was little, my dad passed wind in his bedroom. I laughed and asked him, "Did you go to the bathroom in your pants????" He was so embarrassed.

Now I'm closer to #2. I don't do it on purpose, but it slips out more than I'd like and sometimes I'm not in the vicinity of the bathroom when it does.

#3 is my natural tendency; I grew up in a pretty formal, emphasis on proper etiquette and refinement family. I may be a black sheep of the family in many, many other ways, but when it comes to that...still a #3. How I wound up with a #1, kids-correct-him H I'll never know. However, knowing how the body betrays us as we age, I'd best try moving toward a #2 mindset...

Funniest preschool teaching moment ever:

I guess in this little girl's house they called them 'putts'. One day at school I heard what I thought was a fart and she looked at me all embarrassed. Apparently she pooped her pants. I asked her, 'B, what happened?' and she says, 'Mommy always tells me, never trust a putt!'

My 3 year old boy finds them hilarious!!! My daughter's 4 and gets embarrassed- my Mrs laughs and goes 'ooh!" As if it's come as a surprise (blames me in public) I on the other hand... Stinky and proud- the louder the better!!

I 'pumped' quite loudly in a very quiet clothes shop and looked at my wife , shouted her name, shook my head... She didn't talk to me for over an hour but the look on her face- PRICELESS

From that point on, we all yelled DUCKS except my mother who thought the proper response was, "Excuse me"

For a while I tried to enforce a more decorous "excuse me" response, but DS especially would find creative ways to incorporate it into the noise. Either by shouting "excuse me for faaaaaaarting!!" or "ex!" (fart) "cuse!" (fart) "me!" (farts forever).

Of course DD and DSD think this is high humor and started imitating whenever possible, so that was that.

DD8, hate to admit it, is a champion belcher. She can get to K in the alphabet and can say her first and last name. So she's also taking to actually belching the phrase "excuse me" to take care of it all at once, following DS's lead. Ugh.

To add to this ridiculous post - what about pooping? We all do it, but are you open? Are you DTP (down to poop?)

I am not.

I remember when XH and I were dating; there was an instance where we'd eaten out.

At the time, he had a one bed/one bath place and that's where we were after this dinner. I felt a rumble...oh no, this cannot be good. I got another rumble...oh dear!

So I tell XH (then BF) you must drive me to a facility. He's like no way, just go here.

I knew this was not a 'just go here' situation; this was going down in the books fiasco! So in the car we went; the whole time (about a 2 mile away drive) I tried to keep it together. We happened upon a yellow light, I think I said something like, "Floor it motherfucker!". I ran into the place and did my thing.

After, I walked backed to the car calmly and thanked him.

I was telling my GF's that story and they were like you are CRAZY! I was like - no, I wasn't. I truly believe that evening could've been a game changer.

LOL!

From what I know of the posters in this thread, no replies surprise me, LOL.

Used to have a business partner (older) who was a 'crop duster'.

Don't miss that one bit!!

Me? Few issues and I'm a gentleman. I guess that makes me a 2.5

[This message edited by TrulyReconciled at 3:17 PM, May 20th (Monday)]

We happened upon a yellow light, I think I said something like, "Floor it motherfucker!".

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