Everyone does it.

Don’t you hate it when you work in an office with a bunch of girls and you’ve got the toots so bad that you feel like you might pop? Me too. That was me all day today, and I was going crazy. No amount of crop-dusting* would relieve my symptons. I wasn’t experiencing your normal run of the mill gas, I had the big bubble swimming in your colon gas.

Every guy reading this knows what I’m talking about. We’ve all gone out on a first date with a girl we really like and at some point in the evening we feel a small amount of nitrogen mixed with methane and hydrogen brewing deep within our core. “No problem” you think to yourself, “I’ll just clench my butt fist a little tighter” in the hopes of avoiding any ’slippage’. As the night continues it builds and builds and you squeeze tighter and tighter and there’s never any good opportunity to open the release valve. You’re alone in the car making out and she giggles when she hears your “stomach” gurgle, only that’s not your stomach. That’s the bowel shaking movements of your colon pleading with you to release the ever building bomb. It feels like a cork trying to plug a double barrel shotgun, all the while you curse Taco Bell and their delicious 7-layer burritos that are now seeking revenge upon your gut.

That’s pretty much what I felt like all day, and several times I had to go to the bathroom let go of the natural gas. I had alot of work to do so I couldn’t keep running out of the office all day. It was near mid-afternoon when the big explosion finally happened. For the 10th time I ran to the bathroom, squeaking and sputtering like a dying motorboat, trying hard not to have a premature flatulation. Fortunately, I made it and burst into the bathroom. With zero effort I set free a 4 second long BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK followed by a POP! (not unlike a cap gun) which I can only assume were the remnants of my imaginary cork that was holding it all in. The butt flapping sounded like two Harley Davidsons devouring a hot desert highway. The guy in the only stall said, “Jeez! Uhhhh, do we need to switch?” It was definately crazy, I expelled so much air, I was outta breath!

After the blowout I was clear the rest of the day, no more strange brews coming from my gastric abyss, no more squeeks and peeps to report. I know that we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief. Phew! Pew :(

*crop-dusting v: Silently passing gas while walking past others then quickly vacating the area leaving the others to suffer the ill consequences.


  1. Phil said,

    January 30, 2006 @ 10:52 pm


    I’ve never known you to be one to hold it in.

  2. mego said,

    February 2, 2006 @ 1:09 pm

    dude- what have you been eating???

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