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  • TODAYS SUBJECT

    i didn't quite know where to put this post. as you read on you'll know why. i do not eat much greasy food so on my recent camping trip that seems all there was on the menu. after enjoying a meal of potatoes and kelbassa my buddie and i relaxed in the tent. i soon began to feel a rolling in my bellie. yep,you guessed it. GAS!! i soon discovered he was the same. he just let his rip. i was trying to be more conservative and looking for a place not crowded with people as we needed fresh air. i squatted down to unzip the door and yep,ripped one myself. ended up going on a hike and making sure there were no other guests around to sing with the birds. is there a right or wrong way? hope no one is offended by this post and feel free to give your suggestions!the only thing (ohter than oder) that gave us away was our laughing!

  • #2
    Farts happen,lol

    Comment


    • #3
      If it feels good, DO IT!

      Comment


      • #4
        Kelbassa is tasty, but yes, the intestines say otherwise.

        Comment


        • #5
          i didn't quite know where to put this post. as you read on you'll know why. ... is there a right or wrong way?
          Replication Theory

          -Mark

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          • #6
            I noticed years ago that in the USA they call it kelbassa.In Canada they call it kubassa.The best kubassa is made in Mundare,Alberta by Mundare Sausage Co.One would have to travel all the way to the ukraine to get the real thing,but they do a good job in Mundare!

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            • #7
              I noticed years ago that in the USA they call it kelbassa.In Canada they call it kubassa.
              Round here they call it Kielbasa.

              Comment


              • #8
                Setting off a fart is all about timing, it could be funny and no big deal or it could go all wrong and offend someone. I saw a sticker that said " Farts are Funny!" Now that guy would probably laugh at one. I guess if you know who ever is with you wont mind then let it rip and if your not sure squeez tight until you can find a palce where nobody is at and let it go! I think its just like being naked, theres a time and place for it, its only natural

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                • #9
                  I would attempt to find a dog or kid and let it go. Then I would blame one of them.

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Originally posted by Edmontonnudist:
                    The best kubassa is made in Mundare,Alberta by Mundare Sausage Co.
                    Its not kubassa, but WInkler Farmer Sausage (from WInkler Manitoba) is awesome, and one of the foods I miss since I moved to the US.

                    As for farts... The best way is to wait till you and your wife go to bed, pass the gas, then either wave the covers to spread the love, or stick your wife's head under the covers.

                    Qikdraw

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Originally posted by nudenwv:
                      i didn't quite know where to put this post. as you read on you'll know why. i do not eat much greasy food so on my recent camping trip that seems all there was on the menu. after enjoying a meal of potatoes and kelbassa my buddie and i relaxed in the tent. i soon began to feel a rolling in my bellie. yep,you guessed it. GAS!! i soon discovered he was the same. he just let his rip. i was trying to be more conservative and looking for a place not crowded with people as we needed fresh air. i squatted down to unzip the door and yep,ripped one myself. ended up going on a hike and making sure there were no other guests around to sing with the birds. is there a right or wrong way? hope no one is offended by this post and feel free to give your suggestions!the only thing (ohter than oder) that gave us away was our laughing!
                      Ben Franklin wrote and published a small book called "Fart Proudly." He described proposed dietary supplements that would make your farts smell like flowers or fruits, etc. The book was tounge in cheek, but its an interesting commentary on Franklin and his times.

                      Franklin or no, when you need to pass gas, fart proudly.
                      Blessings

                      Bob

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        My old man was a big guy. He stood 6' 5" and weighed 260--which made him an extremely big fellow for his generation. He never did anything by halves.

                        Once, when I was around ten or so, farts are the very best at that age, he was setting in one of those metal lawn chairs, popular back then, when he let one rip.

                        It started as a hissing sound, like air leaking from a tire, then quickly grew to a shrill piercing whistle that silenced all the birds in the neighborhood and caused, Baron the German Shepard to lift his head and whine and Minnie the cat to run up the mimosa tree.

                        Then it grew in crescendo and basso, opening up into a thunderous roar causing Baron to yelp and run and hide under the wisteria and Minnie to leap from the Mimosa to the garage roof.

                        As he lifted his leg to help its egress, the fart, now with the strength and dull roar of airplane engines, hit the metal seat of the chair causing it to reverberate and echo with the clangor of a boiler factory, doubling and even tripling the noise.

                        It coninued to build in strength reaching a decibel peak that caused nearby windows to open and neighbors to come out on their porches and shout across the street asking each other, "did you hear that?", "what was that noise?", "was there a wreck? "was that thunder--it don't look like rain!".

                        Then as suddenly as it began...It stopped! Silence! Stone cold silence. The birds remained silent, Baron stayed under the wisteria and Minnie glared down from the garage roof with yellow eyes blazing fury, my step-monster's face was white with rage and her eyes bulged as though she had just met Old Scratch his own self with a payment due notice. Her mouth worked but no sounds would come.

                        I was stunned. I had witnessed history. I had seen and heard the fart of all farts. This was the fart against which all future farts would be measured. What a story I would have for my buddies at school on Monday. I knew I had been blessed, I might not have been there to see the final Union Pacific spike driven in the ground, or the signing of great declarations or treaties, I would never get to fight at the Alamo or parachute into occupied France, but I knew what I had witnessed was as historic. A trail marker for a life well lived.

                        My father, with perfect aplomb and uncommon humility, took no notice of his accomplishment, and merely settled back down into reading his book and occasionally sipping from his scotch and soda.

                        My furious step-monster stood up, stiffly stalked across the yard, and went inside letting the screen door slam shut with a ringing and shy little ping in comparison to the sound that had just thundered through our neighborhood.

                        She refused to fix dinner that evening, so my old man took me and him up to Homer's Blue Dell diner and asked one-eyed Maude, the waitress, to fix the two of up with a couple of thick pork chops, dressing, some apple sauce and "another big bowl of them there beans I had last night!" "And make sure you chop onions up in them!"

                        And that's the truth of how it was back in the day.

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          Mark Twain wrote a story of several notables from the 17th century sitting around discussing who had farted. The piece is called "Converstaion, as it was by the Social Fireside, in the time of the Tudors.(Date, 1601.)"

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            usmc1

                            that was the funniest thing i read in a long time. i sent it to all my family members....

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              lol....what a great story!! still laughing hard! why is it these stories are so funny and you can't help but roar out laughing!!
                              Originally posted by usmc1:
                              My old man was a big guy. He stood 6' 5" and weighed 260--which made him an extremely big fellow for his generation. He never did anything by halves.

                              Once, when I was around ten or so, farts are the very best at that age, he was setting in one of those metal lawn chairs, popular back then, when he let one rip.

                              It started as a hissing sound, like air leaking from a tire, then quickly grew to a shrill piercing whistle that silenced all the birds in the neighborhood and caused, Baron the German Shepard to lift his head and whine and Minnie the cat to run up the mimosa tree.

                              Then it grew in crescendo and basso, opening up into a thunderous roar causing Baron to yelp and run and hide under the wisteria and Minnie to leap from the Mimosa to the garage roof.

                              As he lifted his leg to help its egress, the fart, now with the strength and dull roar of airplane engines, hit the metal seat of the chair causing it to reverberate and echo with the clangor of a boiler factory, doubling and even tripling the noise.

                              It coninued to build in strength reaching a decibel peak that caused nearby windows to open and neighbors to come out on their porches and shout across the street asking each other, "did you hear that?", "what was that noise?", "was there a wreck? "was that thunder--it don't look like rain!".

                              Then as suddenly as it began...It stopped! Silence! Stone cold silence. The birds remained silent, Baron stayed under the wisteria and Minnie glared down from the garage roof with yellow eyes blazing fury, my step-monster's face was white with rage and her eyes bulged as though she had just met Old Scratch his own self with a payment due notice. Her mouth worked but no sounds would come.

                              I was stunned. I had witnessed history. I had seen and heard the fart of all farts. This was the fart against which all future farts would be measured. What a story I would have for my buddies at school on Monday. I knew I had been blessed, I might not have been there to see the final Union Pacific spike driven in the ground, or the signing of great declarations or treaties, I would never get to fight at the Alamo or parachute into occupied France, but I knew what I had witnessed was as historic. A trail marker for a life well lived.

                              My father, with perfect aplomb and uncommon humility, took no notice of his accomplishment, and merely settled back down into reading his book and occasionally sipping from his scotch and soda.

                              My furious step-monster stood up, stiffly stalked across the yard, and went inside letting the screen door slam shut with a ringing and shy little ping in comparison to the sound that had just thundered through our neighborhood.

                              She refused to fix dinner that evening, so my old man took me and him up to Homer's Blue Dell diner and asked one-eyed Maude, the waitress, to fix the two of up with a couple of thick pork chops, dressing, some apple sauce and "another big bowl of them there beans I had last night!" "And make sure you chop onions up in them!"

                              And that's the truth of how it was back in the day.

                              Comment

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