Thursday, April 06, 2006

There Really Is Safety In Numbers

My daughter Sunbum and I are carrying on a sacred familial tradition. You see, her birthright as the eldest daughter has earned Sunbum the coveted position of my most trusted Fart Buddy. I'm hesitant to travel anywhere without her because I know if a gassy moment suddenly occurs, she's got my back. Well, not literally because she's a clever girl who learned early not to stand behind her Mother. Sunbum's methodology ranges from blaming creaky floor tiles or shoes to casting dispersion on a hapless passer by for the crime, or just laughing with me which greatly lessens the public humiliation
than just being a lone farter in this World. My other wretched kids have breached my homestead flatulence policy by ratting me out, telling anyone and everyone what I've done. Even my toddlers withdraw their loyalty from me during farting spells and say, "EWWW Mommy, dat's scusting".

I'm also the eldest daughter of my Mother and I was once her Fart Buddy too. Never will I forget the day that my Mom and me, aged 14, went into the neighborhood Pay Less shoe store. Since we wore close to the same shoe size we remained browsing together on the same aisle at different sections. My Mom reached up for a box situated on a high shelf and it triggered an unspeakable evil within her. She unleashed the most ferocious sounding internal fart/growl the World has ever heard. All sound and movement ceased in that little shoe store while I slowly pivoted frontwards, and then I saw it. A horrified little girl of about 5 with her mouth in the formation of a perfect O, her eyebrows raised all the way up, and her eyes absolutely huge. This girl had wandered away from her Mother and was sitting on the little mirrored bench that lie in the middle of the aisles directly behind my Mom and exactly in the line of fire at her BUTT LEVEL. This girl had taken the brunt of the fart impact and she looked positively shell shocked as she remained rooted firmly in place on that bench. Obviously paralyzed with fear until she opened her mouth even wider and started screaming in a panicky voice, "Mommy, Help Me"! With that, my Mom threw down the box of shoes and I ran to her side. Together we maneuvered ourselves swiftly around merchandise displays and nosy people and got the Hell out of there. Remembering Lot's wife, we never looked back either as we made it to the relative safety of our van.

The Fart Buddy system is in place to keep you from dying of embarrassment and to provide someone to create a revisionist history for you as they assure you that the flatulence incidence wasn't all that horrible. They keep your rumbly secrets safe until 17 years later when they get a chance to blog about it. Fart Buddies, don't leave home without them.

7 comments:

Garth said...

EEEEww! dat's gusting!

Sister Pottymouth said...

You can be my buddy any time, friend, any time. (But only if you send me the promised Febreze gift pack!)

The other morning my youngest son was cuddling with me in my bed. I had washed my hands in the sink a few minutes beforehand, and the drain is a bit slow, so as we were cudding, we heard the drain gurgle loudly. He gasped, looked up at me with this wicked grin on his face, and said, "Mama hass STINKY BUM!!"

White Man Retarded said...

Safety in Numbers...ha, I use to frequent a club called Numbers on Westheimer...No safety there...

elasticwaistbandlady said...

No kidding Patrick. A casual friend of mine, Randy Ivy, worked there and was killed 13 years ago in the parking lot. The murder is still unsolved but police speculate that the theft of his Geo Tracker was the motivation.The Hell is this World coming to when you get killed for a GEO?

Awww come on Pisces, we can be International Long Distance Fart Buddies. Little known fact, but the much referred to "sound that echoed around the World", was indeed a fart.

Julie, if my present condition continues, I'm going to have to resort to wearing those pine tree shaped and scented air fresheners as earrings. Still want to be my official Utah Fart Buddy? If we set up a Buddy organization right, there's no reason that anybody will ever have to walk or for that matter, FART, alone again.
I like toddlers because they see through the lies and know when they're Moms are blaming gas on the bathroom sink drain.

Bill C said...

You are like, a fart guru. Or mentor. Or possibly master. Mastress? No matter how you aha, cut it I'm impressed by your candor and "experience."

Even if she won't admit it, I know my wife will appreciate this. I'll make sure she gets the chance.

Theoretical Grammatarian said...

Aha! I knew having a baby was a good idea! I've been carrying him in a sling lately so that should I, by some twist of fate or broccoli, let loose a fart in public, I can smile down at my little guy and say, "Aww, now I bet you feel better, don't you? phew, smells like somebody needs a diaper change!" Here's hoping that my little Ninja will remain as loyal a fart buddy as your Sunbum!

elasticwaistbandlady said...

A fart guru, I LOVE that! I usually consider myself a fart goddess but I'm open minded to change. Next time I have to go somewhere that people have to fill out name tags, I'm totally going to write that down.

The Smiling Infidel

FART GURU

theoretical, I used to blame my husband for those things but having a vulnerable, non verbal baby just makes it so much easier than having a 'It Wasn't ME' fart argument in public.