There have been many mysteries over the years, such as:
- Why does our gynecologist leave the room when women undress?
- If Wile E.Coyote had enough money to buy all that Acme crap, why couldn't he just buy dinner?
- Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don't point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?
But, perhaps the greatest mystery of all is – who sent me this damn book?
It came in the mail yesterday and unless I am taking too much Ambien before bed and getting up in the night and ordering crap off of the internet, I don’t think I bought this one for myself.
It is no secret: I love a good fart. Farts are wonderful because they are so multi-faceted. They can be thunderous, squeaky, or airy. Farts have en element of surprise that startles the farter and astounds those around him or her. Farts rock my world because people act all offended by them in public, but then they get in their cars and let them rip like there is no tomorrow. Bunch of hypocrites.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, has a good fart story if they are willing to share it. I have too many to name, but one of my favorite ones is this: I was a sophomore in college, sitting in a very small room taking an English literature final exam. I had one leg down and one leg hiked up onto the chair and bent. I was leaning on the desk, writing away, when this huge and loud fart unexpectedly flew out of my body. Pencils stopped moving, people stopped breathing. Heads turned towards me and eyes glared. I never missed a beat. I did not look up, kept writing, which automatically solidified my guilt. Every person called me out when we left the classroom. Then I did a keg stand and lost my virginity. Just kidding.
The Book of Farts is small and portable enough that I can easily bring it to church, to the choir concerts, to race start lines, and to grandma’s house. This means I can instantaneously look up pertinent information about farting etiquette (don’t do it in a tent or elevator; do not ever fart at a fresh food counter, especially an organic one; do not fart in the bath if you are bathing with your lover). I can also reference types of farters immediately – “the incompetent farter” one who tries to fart but shits himself instead (aka the sharter) or “the kinetic farter” – one who farts while walking or running. This is a great recipe reference too, with such fart-inducing dishes as the Twelve Egg Omelet with Beer.
So, thank you, anonymous fart-book-sender!
What’s your best fart story? Don’t even pretend you don’t have one.