I was in Tucson again this past week so I have catching up to do. Try as I might, I could not think of a good story to tell, until I went over and visited Kate’s Blog “Hot Dishing“.

For some reason, my Dad has a real problem with people who Pass Gas. Growing up, if you let one rip, he would make you stand in the Bathroom for 5 minutes. His theory was that if you were going to do it, you should go outside or to the bathroom. I could never make it to the bathroom or outside and would up in the purgatory of the bathroom. I never understood what the purpose of standing in the bathroom was. If I had already farted, what was the purpose of the bathroom? Dad hated farts so much, we were not allowed to have whoopee cushions in the house nor were we allowed to let air out of a balloon because they sounded like a fart. We were not allowed to discuss them nor were we allowed to laugh at them. And god forbid if you let one loose in the car. He would pull over and make you get out of the car. He would then open all the doors and windows and air out the car. It didn’t matter if it was 110 degrees or 30, you got out of the car. This made for some painful car rides home from Mexican food restaurants.

But these same rules did not apply to Dad. For some reason, not only did his farts not stink, they were also silent, at least to him. You never ever pointed out that he had farted. If you did, it lead to a lecture about respecting your father and mother and a story about Noah and getting drunk. How this related to passing gas, still escapes me today. And it was hard not to notice his farts. They were they extremely and painfully smelly. The Department of Environmental Quality once tested our house for a SuperFund Clean Up site after a night of mustard greens. They said the neighbors 3 doors down and two streets over had complained. And because he was always trying to hold it in, the came out in almost a whistle. You knew they were coming because the neighborhood dogs would hear the high pitch tweet before the rest of us. Then it would be 5 minutes of someone letting air out of a tire and trying to stop the hole up with a whistle. It was a horror to witness, because you could not even acknowledge that it had happened.

Once, we were having a huge dinner party with some of Dad’s business partners. Mom had warned my sister and I to be on our best behavior. There being 10 years between Sis and I, we often fought simply to show each other how much we loved each other but somehow this was lost on my parents. The first sign that something was wrong was my sister’s Lhaso Apso started howling. We both Looked up to see dad standing with a knife and fork in his hand. The look on his face, was one of horror mixed with surprise as he half walked have ran to the nearest bathroom knife and fork in hand. The bathroom he went to shared a wall with dining room. I looked at my sister and she looked at me and suddenly the chandelier above us started to sway as Dad let the biggest fart I have ever heard, and this was through a solid wall.

I looked at Sis, and then quickly down at my plate as we heard the exhaust fan turned on and something being sprayed. A few minutes later, dad walks out smelling suspiciously like mom’s Hair Spray. No one said a word. Dad came back out, without his knife and fork and I wondered what he did with them, because I never wanted to use them again. Mom got him a new set and dinner went on as if nothing had happened.

I wish.

When Mom got up to go get the new silverware for Dad, I made mistake of looking up at my sister. She looked at me at the exact same time. Because the hair spray Dad had sprayed to cover up his deed was tickling our noses, we were both rubbing them at the same time. I blame Sis for what happened next, she smiled at me. The fucking bitch smiled at me. That was all that I needed. Years of fart related laughs that were bottled up inside me came spewing out. I Started Laughing so hard I couldn’t stop. I tried but I looked at Dad and the look on his face and I just couldn’t handle it any more. I laughed so hard I was crying, and then I farted. Yes, I did. I farted long and loud. Sis, watching me lose control, started laughing too.  Dad stood up and ordered us to our rooms, but we were already up and running away from the table.

I was grounded for a week. Dad said I had embarrassed him and talked about bears eating little kids for making fun of a bald man. I did not know what that meant, but never again, did I hold in a fart or a laugh about a fart.

I am sorry that Kate could not pass gas in her situation, it is against the rules for girls to pass gas at any time. It is time to change the rules. Girls, if you have to let one rip, just give us a heads up and we will try not to laugh too hard.