jlf1961
Posts: 14840
Joined: 6/10/2008
From: Somewhere Texas
Status: offline
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This was a topic of conversation last evening after dinner, which consisted of a number of Little Ceasers hot and ready pizzas, their version of hot wings, bread sticks with marinara and garlic butter.
The liquid refreshments were as fallows. Niece, Soco and pepsi. Nieces boy friend, Soco and Pepsi, jolly ranchers, and soco straight. Myself, Black Velvet on rocks with water.
The topic of conversation started after Blu, my pit decided that the air needed some, shall we say, perfume? However, the aroma was far from pleasant.
Thus the topic of conversation became fart lethality.
Now, dogs are admittedly masters at clearing a room, car, sports arena.
However, we were talking about human generated fumes of noxious qualities, and rated them on a scale of 1 to 10.
1 being a boiled egg fart and ten going up from there.
Please understand, by the time we started discussing this, we were pretty well lit.
Now we agreed that a Mexican food induced expulsion of gut gases was entirely dependent on just what it was consumed.
Taco bell similar establishments usually produced anywhere from 3 to 5.
Actual dine in Mexican restaurants came in about a 6.
We could not agree on anything until niece's boyfriend expelled a combo of pepperoni and three meat pizza, bread sticks with garlic butter (heavy on the garlic, he added freshly pressed to what was brought home for Little Ceasers) and the alcohol he had been drinking.
Now, let me describe the resulting reactions to this expulsion:
First, bear a curly haired rag mop dog who was laying immediately behind him jumped up and ran for the back door...
as the fumes spread, the other dogs evacuated the area, followed by my niece who (not sure if it was the alcohol or the smell) left the table trying not to expel her stomach contents.
A few seconds later, I began to smell an odor that was unpleasant but not overwhelming, at first. After a second or two, my alcohol impaired brain sent the signals to my feet that it decided we needed to be outdoors.
Now, let me explain a fact that must be known. My idea of a whiskey and water is take a 16 oz glass, four ice cubes, 2/3's full of whiskey, with the remainder being water. By this time I had finished half of a 1.75 liter bottle of black velvet, and a number of straight double shots of soco (to sweet in my opinion to be mixed.)
So, according to my sister who was not drinking anything with alcohol, the following happened.
I tried to stand without untangling my feet from around the legs of the chair and promptly went to the floor.
Now, you must understand, that when Kera sees me on the floor, it means that I want to wrestle with her, even if I dont.
I learned that gut gases seem to hug the floor, and trying to get up with 50 pounds of insanely happy canine and feet still tangled in chair is damn near impossible. (why Kera did not leave the room with the other dogs, I have no clue)
Once I got to my feet, I made my way in the direction of the back door, at the other end of the house, and discovered that my mind's idea of a straight line was not the same as my feet, so I ended up bouncing off a wall, a counter, the breakfast bar, a couch and a door frame.
I also discovered that, unlike the days of my youth, I can no longer navigate steps after getting pretty well slightly impaired by drinking alcohol.
I am quite sure that the fumes from his gut gas expulsion knocked him out because he never left the dining room and spent the night under the table.
My niece and I continued drinking on the porch for about an hour longer, although at a much slower pace, then she went to her room and found her bed.
I did likewise, and failed to find my bed, but did find my desk chair, and decided that was good enough.
Sis was left to clean up.
Jump to 0500 this morning.
Kera decided that she just had to go, and woke me up to let her out. She was loud enough in her demands she woke up the other dogs in my sister's room.
At 0530, David (niece's boyfirend) was aroused from under the table by Giz, who had been woke up by a very cheerful and owner of a very loud laugh, two year old Damian.
Giz and I agreed that David's contribution to the debate was an easy 11 on our scale.
My sister insists that she has smelled worse when she worked as a waitress. ( I dont think I want to eat at the restaurant that she worked at)
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Boy, it sure would be nice if we had some grenades, don't you think?
You cannot control who comes into your life, but you can control which airlock you throw them out of.
Paranoid Paramilitary Gun Loving Conspiracy Theorist AND EQUAL OPPORTUNI
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Fart lethality - 
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