A little under two years ago, a Sunday School teacher accidentally said, "We need to acknowledge our farts" instead of "We need to acknowledge our faults." Ironically, he didn't acknowledge the fact that he just made a mistake and kept on teaching the lesson while Marriedin and/or his wife snickered because he and/or she is/are immature.
I have a hard time with fart humor, unlike some people. I don't know exactly why this is. In fact, I have a very difficult time even saying the word "fart" in front of those who are not my family. You can imagine how difficult this post is for me.
With my family, I have a whole different take on fart humor. In my family's company, I can crack them off with the best of them---fart jokes, I mean, not actual farts (that is a lie).
Last night I found myself in a very awkward situation in which I had the opportunity to acknowledge my fart but chose not to.
See, I was at Comedy Sportz with Viper after his show and we were sitting around with the rest of the guys in the show, and somehow, the conversation turned to blue darting. Stories were shared, laughs were laughed, and I must admit I was laughing, too. But I was laughing most of all because I had a secret. I secret that I couldn't let out. I had to hold it in me!
As everyone shared blue darting stories, Viper, in some horrific effort to include me in the group, asked me, "Have you ever blue darted?" Since everyone else was still laughing at the stories, I just continued laughing and looked away briefly, hoping that the question would be forgotten. When I dared to make eye contact again, he repeated, "Have you ever blue darted?"
I shook my head no. And may I be thrust down to hell for it!
You see, it wasn't so long ago, not so long ago at all, that I was home alone, relishing in the freedom that comes from completing finals. Sophie called and asked if she and a friend could stay the night at my place, which I thought was a great idea, except that in my solitude, I'd been relieving myself of the huge amounts of gas that my body was producing that day, and it must be said, they did not smell lovely in the extreme (you seriously have to understand that it pains me to even write this). I had a dilemma: Either I could start holding in all my farts for the next couple of hours so that the house could regain its normal smell (this was not a good solution for me since I was almost literally rotting inside), or I could light very smelly candles so that the scent could overpower my own scent and the flame could, perhaps, burn up some of the gas.
I took my blow-torch-like lighter and lit a candle in the living room. Then, I realized that I needed to fart. Well, it just so happened that I had the blow torch in hand already, and before I farted, it crossed my mind that I had never seen nor participated in blue darting before. It tends not to be an activity practised at female slumber parties.
I wondered if blue darting was supposed to take place with the pants on or off, but not wanting to ponder too long on it and waste my opportunity, I bent over, held a flame to my rear, and farted.
My pants caught on fire and I immediately stopped, dropped, and rolled. And after the flames were extinguished, I continued to roll on the ground, unable to stop laughing. All alone in my house. I kept wondering what would have happened if I had burned myself and needed to go to the hospital for it...
Now back to last night. I will admit that as soon as I got in the car with Viper afterwards, I confessed to him that I had lied and that I had, in fact, blue darted. The truth his, to him, I can acknowledge my farts. But I am still too prideful to acknowledge my farts to all the men at Comedy Sportz.
(And yet, here I am, acknowledging my farts to the Internet. This is obviously a huge step for me.)