Flatulence.

Flatulence. Or for bone heads like myself that don't like big words. Fart. Gas. Sneakers. Sliders. Whatever works for you.

You see. This is a natural occurrence. You have to fart. It will come out some way or another. If you don't fart, you burp. If you don't burp, you fart. If you don't do either, your pores will leak out a stench so putrid you will want to die. I heard about that anyway. I'm not a doctor though. But I believe this.

So. The gas that leaks out of my buttocks has caused great grief for me. For instance. I sneeze, I fart. I pray that a plane has just passed over and I can blame it on that. Or a dog is sitting near. Or my husband, cause he gets blamed and he knows better to squeal on me.

However, my prayers go unanswered. No plane. No dog. No hubby. Just me, sneezing and a loud, obnoxious sound escaping through my crack. I don't think that you can physically sneeze and clench your butt cheeks together. It is like sneezing and blinking. It cannot be done.

However, the worst to date was when I was drinking. I was bombed off of tomato beers and crappy cigarettes. It was before my daughter was born, and I had drank for 3 nights straight. Which can only lead to beer farts, which are the most vile smelling toxic gas you could ever inhale. And when you factor in tomato beers, it's downright revolting.

So. I was standing in a mixed crowd of best friends, good friends, acquaintances and strangers. It was packed and the music was loud. I was holding in a ass bomb. My stomach was beginning to go into convulsions. So. In a intoxicated state, I decided to let it fly, knowing full well it was going to be loud.

And just as I relaxed my butt cheeks, the music went dead and for some reason, the crowd was quiet. And they all heard it.

Oh dear Lord. I realized I had to come up with a damn good excuse or blatant lie. I sort of looked up into the eyes of my friends. I was totally busted. My best friend/soul sister was standing in front of me. She loves farts, poop, puke, belly button lint. Whatever. She is a gross lady. She farted on blind date with a guy who was extremely HOT. She took a shit at his apartment (and informed him that she was going to take a dump) before they left for the movie. Her now husband, got the covered wagon on their first *ahem* "make-out" session. She is the opposite of girly, even though her hair and body are perfection. She is a tom boy inside a beautiful girl's body.

Anyway, I digress.

So. As I looked into her eyes, she was already belly rolling. She couldn't contain herself. She was welling up with tears. Laughing her fool ass off. And then in the mix of her giggle fits she yells: "You totally just farted." I look for support from my other friends. They were in no better state then her. Even the "Miss Priss" friend who I swear, has never pooped a day in her life, was rolling on the ground. She is such a faker.

I look to acquittance's, praying for someone to shoot me in the head and end my misery. They were hamming it up too.

Strangers? Hell no. The girls were mortified and the guys were laughing. I was destined to die.

And then. It happened. Like "slo-mo" happened. Everyone smelled the ass gas. And their faces went from laughing to a severe look of vomiting. It was toxic. The strangers quickly left. The acquaintances disappeared too and the friends all fanned their noses or covered their faces with their sleeves. Gagging. Yelling. Spewing.

And that, my friends, is the night I saw my life flash before my eyes.