My Secret Identity Was Almost Exposed At Wal-Mart Last Night

reminds me of the day, me and the fiance' were at the Newport aquarium. I dropped bomb in one of the aquariums tunnels. I then quickly pushed her and me out of there when about 6 teenage girls on a school trip walked into the tunnel behind us. I heard squeals of ooh yuck something died and my nose is burning...  I was in tears and my fiance', who also had wls surgery, just shook her head at me.

I'm not trying to compete with any of these great stories, but one of the best, and most frequently recurring, laughs I've ever had in my life came from a situation similar to these. It took place back in my old pre-op life though. I have a long history of producing methane. About 10 years ago my wife and I and two other couples all went out to Vegas together. We were staying in this ghetto called the El Remo or San Remo or something like that, back behind the Tropicanna. The first morning, one of my buddies says, "Hey they got a Krispy Kreme over in the Excalibur, let's go get some donuts." At that time, I'd never heard of Krispy Kremes, and thought that walking a half mile just to get some donuts was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard of. But after much PR work about how wonderful these donuts were, the other two talked me in to going over there with them. So by the time we got there the plan is for each guy to buy a dozen  donuts and take them back to the rooms and be a big hero to the wives. But when we saw those dandies floating on the grease and going under the syrup and coming out the other side we decided to change tactics. We were gonna buy a  dozen and a pint of milk and eat half of them right there at the food court and take the other half home for the wives. The other two guys basically stuck to the plan, but I had concluded that these donuts were better than advertised and my over-achieving ass got carried away and went and bought another pint of milk and finished my dozen. And then I bought another dozen to take back to the room to my wife. So basically I started my day off with a dozen donuts and a quart of chocolate milk. A little extreme even for me. With all of that sugar and starch in my intestines it wasn't long before I was bloating up and blowing out some amazing farts. We (the guys)  then spent all afternoon playing blackjack at the casino and in true Vegas form a nice little skank brought us around drinks for as long as we cared to play. Of course I went with the draft beer which introduced quite a bit of yeast in on top of the starch and sugar rich donut and chocolate milk slurry. And kept my ass firing at will. Later that evening the women all wanted to go to the Cirque de Solei show, but we had cut a deal where we didn't have to go. We did have to agree to eat supper with them before the show though, so we go to some buffet, I don't have a clear recollection of where, and basically I reload the ammo locker. Later that night, while the women are at the Cirque show, us guys go to the House of Blues over at the Lexus for a Joan Jett and the Blackhearts concert. We get tickets and get in the joint about an hour before Joan is due to take the stage, so what's a guy to do in Vegas to while away the time? Drink more draft beer obviously. On top of a stomach freashly reloaded from a Vegas buffet. So here's the funny part. Me and my two podnahs are waiting in a line at the bar to get some beers and although the concert hasn't started yet, they're piping some pretty decent rock and roll through the system at a pretty loud setting. Loud enough that no one could possibly hear me fart. So standing there in line, I cut one that shuld've allowed me to take my belt in a couple of notches, secure in the thought that no one could possibly hear it. Standing behind us in line  were three young butches all dressed in black leather pants and black leather vests with no shirts or bras on underneath and enough metal stuck in their pimply faces to build a bicycle. They start coughing and falling out of line and one of them screams angrily, "Goddammit, somebody needs to change their diet!!". Unlike our friend from the Dallas Walmart, I couldn't hide my identity. And it wouldn't matter if I could, my two buddies who had been tolerating my invisable **** all day long would've given me away. We all damn near asphyxiated, not so much from the methane, but from laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. The butches glared hatefully at us for the rest of the night, but from a safe distance. So nowadays everytime we're around each other and one of us farts, the other one automatically says, "Goddammit, somebody needs to change their diet". And we all get a good laugh. As an aside: Judging from the crowd that night I'd guess that Joan has a significant lesbotronic following, which I guess would indicate that she probably bats for the other team also. Who knew? I guess I've always been naive. But I did enjoy the music.

I have tears running down my face.  I usually tune in to the main board.  Someone posted a reminder over there about the men's forum.  Curiosity killed the cat.  I haven't belly ached liked then in quite awhile.  You  have made my night.  I can tell you thanks for sharing, because I was not in the check out line.   I will surely be tuning in again.  Kris 

Kris - you may want to limit your participation here to lurking.... we don't go for the broad's take on **** in the locker room. "Tune in", but please "tune out".