Toot!

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I accidentally “tooted” at work today, and I have to say, this one took me by surprise. One scale of 1-10 for potency, lingering ability and nasty factor, this one was an 8. Work toots should always be a 3 or below.

While I’m no stranger to passing gas at work, this one was pretty heinous. I had NO IDEA what I’ve eaten over the past few days to warrant something so awful welling up inside me, but I actually gagged.
I try not to do this kinda thing at work, because so many people walk by my desk, stop to say hello, etc. that I just can’t take the chance. Last time I did this, I sat there silently, slumped over slightly, praying that the funk would dissipate before anyone came by. Eventually, I sent out an email to my surrounding coworkers, stating simply, “Do not come by my desk for 5 minutes”. Of course they all knew at that point what I’d done, but I figured that was better then seeing the look of surprise, horror, nausea and disgust (in that order) on some unsuspecting co-worker’s face.

Sometimes, when it just has to happen in public, I’ll try to “crop dusting” tactic. For example, if we’re in Target, I walk away from BBE into a vacant aisle and rip one out, walking the away from it quickly. I stopped doing this after I was on the deodorant aisle one day and walked into someone’s “dust”. My mouth was open, man! I was utterly and unbelievable disgusting. Since then, I haven’t had the heart to place that fate on anyone else. So I bottle up my public farts as much as I can, which makes for bigger “eruptions” at home.

Last night I had a similar “eruption” to the one I had at work today, only I was laying in bed, face down, and the BBE, bless his heart, got a face full of the horror because the ceiling fan blew it right back on him. We were choking and crying and laughing all at once. The sheer shock that something so rotten could come out of a girl’s rear end startled him, I think. We talk about pooting and stuff like that all the time, but this was beyond the pale. Typically our conversations are relegated to the following:

Me: “What are you doing??”
BBE: (under the covers, in bed) “What?” (flaps blankets to augment the smell and share it with me)
Me: “Stop farting in bed! That’s nasty! The fumes get trapped under the covers!”
BBE: “Fine” (stays in bed, flips back covers, farts in open air)

In all fairness, our conversations are also typically:

Me: “Hey, so to finish my story…
BBE: (hears the all-too-familiar tinkle) “Ahh!! What are you doing?!?!
Me: “What everyone does! It’s natural! Didn’t you read the book?!?”
BBE: “You’re disgusting! Stop peeing with the door open! Dammit!!!” (runs in, slams the bathroom door shut, holding it shut until he hears the flush)
Me: “Whatevs. Backitup backitup backitup.”

It’s not a secret that girls pass gas too, I think guys on the whole just think we’re more dainty about it. Not I. I try to be more undercover because I know I’m rotten inside, but there’s nothing dainty about the unholiness that happens after too much dairy. I have one friend that will not poot in front of her boyfriend, to the point that she HOLDS IT UNTIL SHE GETS HOME. I have another friend that holds it for DAYS, until she’s alone in her own place. She literally won’t poop for 48 hours or more, because he’s hanging out with her all the time. I don’t have that kind of time, energy or modesty. If we’re at home, I’ll rip one out on the couch, and so will the BBE. I think part of it comes from living with guys for so much of my life, but I also happen to know that most girls as just as rotten as me, they just try to hide it from their respective partners as much as possible.

I take a different approach: what you see is what you get. So pretty early in our relationship I starting lettin’ ‘em go so the BBE knew what he was getting into. I figure fair’s fair, right?

So… back to my accident parting shot at work today… it was epic. I peeked around to see if anyone was nearby, that starting flapping the air around me with a notepad I had on my desk. Once I was pretty sure it was gone, I sprayed a little body spray in the air, just to give it that fresh smell again. New lesson for today: spraying perfume on top of funk does NOT cancel the funk out. I already knew this, but I thought I could get away with it. Wrong!! So now I’m getting whiffs of poot mingled with whiffs of… cucumber melon. Not cute OR dainty.

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