Flatulence and Humor... What IS The Connection? Laughter, Of Course

Most of the time I try keeping my blog posts about nice subjects but occasionally I just have to let one like this rip. I know. That was a terrible pun, wasn't it? But, I started thinking about a former friend from long ago who was an ER nurse and was completely disgusted by any mention of flatulence or (God Forbid) even the sound of it. Seriously. This woman could stand and watch gushing blood from another human or stare at crushed bones with no reaction and yet, she would be completely grossed out by flatulence. I mean, how is that even possible? Needless to say, we didn't remain friends for long. I finally realized she had a warped sense of what little humor she had in her.

Flatulence has always been a mystery and a fascination for me since I was a small child. My mother (The Brown Recluse) forbade me or my brother to ever make such a faux pas *pass* in her presence. I'm serious. It was punishable by grounding. Often worse. I grew up in total pain as far back as I can remember. Gut. Wrenching. Pain. Embarrassment (even though no one knew). Humiliation. Horror. You get the drift. But hey, I grew up with a brother, so there were experiments involving matches, get over it. Only when The Brown Recluse was *out on the town*, otherwise it was a punishable sin. Needless to say, I grew up constipated and plagued with gas and remained that way for much of my life.


Until, that is, I met Mr. Snoots, the Dutch Oven King. (I'm assuming no explanation is needed here.) When we'd been seeing each other for quite a while, I relayed my story to him. He couldn't believe it and made it his mission to change that part of my life. (He grew up the middle child of three boys, right?) I won't even go into The Dutch Oven Wars. Let me just say that he's regretted encouraging me ever since. Uh-huh. He knows he created a monster and has had to live with said monster for 32+ years. The poor dear. His false belief that women only pooped little pink roses was forever diminished. He hasn't been the same since. But, he did ask for it. I'm just sayin'....



Cruel Husband - Amazing videos are here


I've been a much happier person though. Then there was giving childbirth, which teaches you that you can never be embarrassed in front of strangers again. Excuse me. I was spread eagle in front of a large group of complete strangers (except my OB) who ALL had on masks. After that, there is no dignity in embarrassment. Natural bodily functions are just that. Bodily functions. A natural (although entertaining) function of the body when there is an inside build up of gas, for whatever reasons. These functions are just controlled AND tolerated better by some people than others.

Of course, I would never do it at a cocktail party or in church. Well, I wouldn't do it intentionally anyway. However, I am reaching that certain age where bodily functions aren't so easily controlled in public situations, but that should prove to provide many a good tale. This is one of the reasons I spend a great deal of time alone. Don't dare think I'm kidding. I suppose I should start pretending my hearing is going.

Apparently, I have the insides of a volcano. Sometimes life isn't always fair.

When my children were little and would pass gas, we would call it *stepping on a frog* then just giggle away. So one day we went to Luby's cafeteria for lunch, where we were in line behind an elderly man and his wife. In the middle of the cafeteria line the elderly man let one escape and it was really quite loud. I'm assuming he was losing his hearing because he seemed like he didn't know. At that moment our son said in his loudest voice, "Mom! He just stepped on a frog!" The laughter all around us sent me out of control and the three of us simply had to flee. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop laughing, especially if we sat where I could still see the old fart. So, we left and went elsewhere, as I explained to son that he shouldn't yell about it in public because it could embarrass someone and make them feel bad and we don't want to hurt people's feelings.


 
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And you know what? If you can't handle this kind of post, then you need to go ahead and leave anyway. You don't belong here. Meanwhile, don't let the door slam you in the patootie on the way out. Seriously, at my age, I have no more time for baloney or ninnies. Life is real, and it's all we've got, so why waste it on such trivial details as being offended by talk/laughter/discussion about a natural bodily function, so embarrassing and funny at the same time? Laughter is good for you, so get over the being offended thing and let that laughter roar!

Robert Fulghum even mentions the hilarity of it in his book Uh-Oh. This is a quote from his book: "Thank God for these real life accidents that keep us from the boredom of perfection. I will never forget when one of these accidents happened at an inappropriately grim funeral service once. An old uncle of the deceased got the hiccups, and when he tried to repress them, he managed to hiccup and fart at the same time. You can't really ignore these things, try as you might, even under funeral conditions. Uncle Jack saved the day. Great funeral. (I hope that in carrying out your responsibilities to make the appropriate sounds as they appear in the text, that your capacities haven't been taxed here.)"


Frankly, any discussion of this subject usually throws me into fits of uncontrollable and hysterical laughter. I know. It's weird. But, I lose control nearly every time and go into total fits of hysterical giggling. No, I lose control EVERY time. Actually, it doesn't even have to be a discussion... it could be merely a certain sound and I'm off into total hysteria, laughing like a resident of the funny farm. And no, I'm not 12. I just act like it.