Popping in with an update.
The highlight of my week occurred this morning as we read aloud from our crappy novel. We were trading the responsibility of reading around the room, the students sitting in their desks or sprawled out on the floor as we made our way through the chapter.
Because this class is so poor on attendance, I often find myself floating about the room handing out assignments that need to be caught up and rediscussing the day’s assignment with the ESL students. After interrupting the round robin reading for the umpteenth time to impart some VERY IMPORTANT POINT about the goddamned Nicholas Sparks novel, I got up to grab my gradebook from the back on the classroom. I noticed two students snickering about something, and a third with his sweatshirt pulled over his nose. I headed past these three to my desk when I suddenly hit a Wall of Odor.
What the hell was that? Had someone crapped on my desk? Upon realizing I had just walked through a rank cloud of stinking, rotten gut fart, I did my best to maintain composure.
If there is one thing you should know about Lauren, it is that Lauren believes the fart is the highest form of humor. Juvenile? Totally.
I made it back to the front of the room without cracking a smile, marking participation points for the students that volunteered to read aloud, and gazing out at them trying to stifle my laughter. You could measure the travel of this fart across the room as it spread. The awful faces and cries of disgust moved like a wave across the gaggle of students until it eventually hit me, again, in the front of the classroom, and lingered like fog.
We all lost it. I couldn’t contain myself. The students were simultaneously amused at my loss of composure and horrified at the fart that violently offended us. Someone demanded I turn on the fan. I offered bonus points to the person who would claim it. No one did.
Any modicum of control I had over the class dissolved for the rest of the hour, but hell, I my first belly laugh in that school all semester.
Even if it did pain me to breathe.
Hilarious. And I agree, farts are the funniest things ever. Except for, perhaps, exploding diarrhea. I laughed out loud just typing that.
Finally, the real goal of feminism: so women can enjoy farts and diarrhea as openly and shamelessly as men.
How many bonus points are we talking here? I’ve usually got one on deck at any given time; hell, I’ve got a lifetime supply. Come and get it!
You would enjoy Thanksgiving with my Uncle OOgie.
Lauren, you’d love my friends Bunny and Jen. They are definitely Fart Feminists.
Having consumed a large amount of garlic and feta dip last night, and spending today sneaking off outside so as not to be a complete social pariah, I believe there is insufficient discussion of this body function on blogs that otherwise get into the nitty gritty of bidy functions.
For example, do you know the average healthy adult breaks wind fifteen times a day? That makes me at least twice as healthy as most…
I was sitting in (a very boring) class when I read this post. I started laughing and trying to hold it in–with the predictable result that I snorted so hard from trying to keep it in that, well… some boogers got loose. More than that is TMI.
Don’t do that to me again, ‘kay? ;-)
I was supposed to be looking all serious since we were talking about suicide but instead, I’m sitting there, snorting so loudly my boogers get dislodged.
Gross.
My farts don’t stink.
Marksman – you’re a Republican?
And my farts smell like flowers.
utterly and completely unfair! i’m reading this while at work (shame) and i sit in a cubicle… uncontrollable heaving laughter is a clear sign one is NOT working.
And my farts smell like flowers.
Yeah, and I know what kind of flowers you mean.
Betsy: Or huffing white-out.
Libertarian. Actually, I choose when my farts stink and when not. I don’t let the government (or anyone else) do that for me.