I’m pretty used to my own type of blogging — with all the doodles — so even when I read other people’s blogs I sometimes illustrate them in my head. In some cases, I actually do draw them for real, but I haven’t done that in a while … until today. Because Kat George’s Thought Catalog post on The Art of the Fart and Depart was just too funny to ignore.
Yes, as unladylike as it may be, I’m a sucker for funny stories about embarrassing bodily functions.
It started like this:
One of the most terrifying feelings you can have in an otherwise entirely mundane public scenario is instinctively knowing the fart threatening to breach your butthole has been stewing in the sulphurous bowels of hell for the past millennia, and is intent on emerging RIGHT EFFING NOW to rain locusts and vengeance upon the earth and its unsuspecting denizens.
OMG. Hilarious. I was hooked. And then it went on to lay out a very well-thought out “Fart and Depart” strategy that I think everyone can relate to/benefit from. So here goes…
The Art of the Fart and Depart (An Illustrated Game Plan)
Take a look around with your Terminator eyes (you know, the ones where everything is red and little squares hone in on important details). Where are the closest exits? Can you mark a mental escape route in your head? Are you going to be able to move fast enough so that the smell doesn’t follow you? Most importantly, is there someone nearby you can pin this on?
It’s imperative that you leave the fart with someone that looks like they could have done it. A petite little girl with shiny hair and a pretty smile is not going to work; people look at her and think she poops rose petals, which is going to make everyone hate you even more for farting on her. Look for people that look drunk or who are eating McDonalds or any other fast food that might lead to irritable bowels. Huge men are also great, especially dudes that look like sports fans, because people just expect huge sports fans to be pretty uncouth generally. Crying babies are always a perfect scapegoat too; they might be small but babies are the worst offenders when it comes to diaper smells, and the crying just makes it all the more believable that the dumb baby crapped its pants.
Now, once you’ve chosen your mark, everything else comes down to timing. Wait for the subway doors to open and let it go, hard and fast. Or if you’re in a situation you can’t physically remove yourself from, get nice and close to the chump who’s going to take the fart hit for you and squeeze it out, being sure to turn to your neighbor as the smell permeates waving your hand in front of your face and throwing disgusted sideways glances at the frat bro you’re pinning your awfulness on.
In the worst case scenario, when there’s no one to take the blame, you have one option, and one option only. Unleash and run. Drop your bomb, keep your chin up, and hightail out of there.
You might not be able to return to the scene of the crime (like do you really want the bodega guy to know you as “Fart Girl”?), but you will have escaped with a portion of your dignity intact. OK, I’m lying. At least you will have escaped.
OMG I’m still laughing. :D
You can read the whole article here. Enjoy! :)