Derek:

Why do farts follow one around? Last night I dropped a real vibe-slayer as the missus and I were in bed talking. I'm just getting over food poisoning, so this was no ordinary beer fart but the putrid sputtering of my stalled engine getting back up to speed. She was horrified, and I was ordered to leave the room for the next one (there's always a next one). A fair request. Ten minutes later, the next one. I pop out of bed, run to the next room, and let 'er rip. Similarly awful. But it's over, and I head back to bed. She starts screaming. Apparently the damn thing followed me back to bed. I'm thinking this happens for one of two reasons: either the fart rides in the vacuum/wake of the walking human body, or some of the fart is hanging out in your underwear and takes its time leaking out. Can you ask a scientist which it is?

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According to this site, which I found by doing a simple Google search of "why do farts follow"...

The reason is air pressure and your clothing. For air pressure demonstrations, the Japanese have a great video which you should watch, while for clothing, they absorb the fart, hence the smell gets slowly released.

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The video they embedded at the website was missing, which means I'm totally bereft of answers. I MUST KNOW THE ROLE OF AIR PRESSURE. And if it's air pressure that's causing me farts to trail me, is there a way to eliminate air pressure? Seems doable.

You know, for years I've been faithfully doing all these fart negation tactics without ever once having evidence that they actually work. Like these:

1. Farting in another room. Like Derek said, it just follows me back. It even follows me back when I take the care to pull down my pants, spread my asscheeks, and expel the fart ENTRIELY from my asshole prior to suiting back up and returning to the room. It doesn't work. At all.

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2. Waving off the fart. The only thing this seems to do is get the fart smell embedded within my hand. It does nothing to make the gas dissipate more quickly into the ether.

3. Farting into the garbage can. Doesn't hold in the smell whatsoever. I think there may be a defective seal.

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The only surefire way I know of eliminating fart odor quickly is lighting a match immediately afterwards. You should see how many matches my old lady has gone through thanks to my ass pollution. You'd think she smokes five packs a day.

JT:

I'm getting married in October and just starting thinking about all of the embarrassing things that could happen to me in front of 200 or so friends and family. What if, when I see my beautiful bride walking down the aisle, or we're holding hands at the altar, I get a boner?

Is this scenario even possible, or are you so nervous during your wedding that the idea of wood is out of the question? And if this does happen, is there any possible way to cover it up?

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I think it's damn near impossible. It would be like getting a hard-on while playing a football game, or getting a hard-on while skydiving. There's too much adrenaline pumping for you to take the time and care to sport a diving board in your pants. And even if you did, no one would notice or give a shit because the only thing people look at during a wedding is the bride. Does she look great? Does she look shockingly obese? Where the hell did she get that dress? I heard she was a real cunt to her bridesmaids. That's all the crowd notices. You're set dressing. She could be marrying Jesus Himself and no one at the church would pick up on it. So don't fear the boner. And if you get one, all the better. Shit, take it out and wave it around and see if anyone flinches. They won't.

Charlie:

I'm stationed as an Army officer over here in Korea and my buddy recently saw this excellent teddy bear dong advertisement for waxing services. You get not just one, but two cock flashing pedobears synchronizing their odd fetish. I don't understand why their nut sack hair color would be different from their bear fur, but maybe I'm just over thinking it.

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And why a bear? I feel like if you were a bear, you'd be more concerned with adding hair to your pubic region than taking it away.

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Bob:

Do you ever watch The Wiggles and inadvertently picture them fucking hookers? It feels weird.

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I have that problem with basically any child performer. The fact that they perform strictly for children makes me far more curious about their personal lives than if they were just regular singers or actors. I'll watch an entire episode of "The Fresh Beat Band" wondering if Twist goes home, smokes meth, and hires girls from Sizzle Escorts. If you're performing for kids, I have to assume there's some kind of dark, twisted side to you.

I took my kid to a puppet show this summer and the puppeteer there was this forty-year-old dude with a huge bald spot. He had these bad songs and cheap puppets and he tried juggling and dropped his balls four goddamn times. This was at some tiny little theater and there couldn't have been more than ten kids in the crowd. I sat there the whole time just trying to figure out what this guy's life was really like. Did he have kids of his own? Was he a loner? Was he a pederast? There has to be a trace of pederast to any professional puppeteer, no? He probably went from town to town doing these kiddie shows for barely any money. I bet he stayed at Motel 6 that night. I wondered if he took out his elephant puppet and skeeted on it just because he could. Maybe he liked hanging out around day care centers. I couldn't stop applying all these dark and horrible characteristics to this poor guy who was just trying to scrape out a living. It was a much more damning indictment of me than of the puppeteer. Then again, I still have most of his songs in my head from listening to them just one time, so fuck him in the ass with a bowling pin.

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Ben:

If they were to re-instate tug-of-war as an Olympic event in time for the London Olympics, who would be the favorites? Let's say 8 men on a team, each country gets one team. You have to think that China and the U.S.A. would be up there, simply because those countries have lots of athletes to choose from, and are willing to spend lots of money on Olympic events that no one else cares about.

Maybe Turkey, Russia, or Kazakhstan would make it to the medal round with a team made up of people who didn't make the weight lifting or wrestling squad. If Samoa bothered to send a team, they could be pretty dangerous.

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This is probably the wrong connection to make, but Rowing is a current Olympic sport that involves lots of pulling, so maybe the best rowers would also make for good tug-of-war participants. At the 2008 Summer Games, the top rowing medaling countries were Great Britain (6), Canada (4), then Australia, the US, and New Zealand (3 each). So all those countries would probably do all right, along with the traditional weightlifting powers you just mentioned (the two Koreas also fared well in that sport in Beijing). Provided we didn't include the Winklevii on our squad, I'd love to see Tug of War become an Olympic sport, along with Smear the Queer, Butts Up, and Trampoline Wrestling.

Joey Joe Joe Jr.:

I am a newlywed, and I shave my sack with my wife's shower razor. I have no intention of telling her. Is my marriage doomed?

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Nah. Best to keep that to yourself. I don't tell my wife that I sometimes dribble peepee into the sink, and our marriage hasn't suffered for it as of yet.

CJ:

I have a coworker that I love to upset in little ways, among other things, not wearing socks on casual Fridays at the office. While upsetting my coworker is quite rewarding, I can say getting away with walking barefoot around the office is the balls. Most of my time is spent with my feet under the desk but the times I have to walk to the printer barefoot brings joy to my job.

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I used to take off my shoes at the office as well, though I did this not to anger a co-worker, but because my dogs were barkin' and needed some fresh air. And I'd walk around gleefully in my bare feet or stocking feet before the smell hit and then I'd feel terrible about subjecting everyone to the stench. I love my own odors, but even I quickly grew disenchanted with the brutal smell coming up from my toejam. So I usually didn't keep my shoes and socks off for longer than a few minutes before I meekly put them back on again. It's not like farting at work. You can't trick yourself into believing no one knows you did it. Everyone smells the gorgonzola, sees your bare cloppers, and puts two and two together. It's not a fun moment. But those two minutes when you walk from your desk to the office fridge? MAGIC.

Steve:

AMERICA! F YEAH!

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They should put that plate at the Pentagon memorial.

Rob:

I feel like in TV and movies 20+ years ago, whenever one of the characters got in trouble with the law (or shady variant thereof) overseas, as they were dragging him away to their secret prison, he would always say something like "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME, GODDAMMIT! I'M AN AMERICAN CITIZEN!! SOMEONE CALL THE EMBASSY!" I feel like if anyone ever tried that these days they'd just get laughed at (and probably punched in the stomach). Did this ever work? Why does it seem less likely to work now?

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It seems less likely because of the perception that America used up some of its good will over the past decade. But it also seems less likely now because movies and TV (particularly "The Wire") have done an excellent job showing you just how brazenly incompetent most large corporate and government entities are. Thus, viewers are a whole lot more cynical about that kind of thing. "What's that? You just call the Embassy and they rescue you? BULLSHIT. They'd obviously have to have six meetings about it, make sure you're demographically worth saving, and then see if there's any money to send a helicopter out to fetch you, WHICH THERE SO WON'T BE." Way to go, David Simon. We have no misguided faith in America anymore. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY.

Time for your email of the week. It's a GREAT MOMENT IN BARF HISTORY.

Sean:

This past weekend, I went on a float trip in Missouri (for lack of better options). The rafting was good fun. Saw multiple sets of tits, got really drunk, and jumped off a cliff that was about 15 feet high and looked about 30 feet high when I got there.
Fast forward to post-rafting. I order a pizza from the lodge and have it delivered to our campsite. I devour it and go to bed. Because its hot as balls outside, I think it's a great idea to sleep naked. An hour later, I'm feeling sick. I try scrambling for the door of the tent, but I don't make it. I throw up a bit right inside of the tent. I open the zipper (man that was a bitch) and proceed to unload the rest. In the process I slip and fall face first to where my face is laying in my outside puke, and my dong has fallen into the puke. Perfect, I had to walk a half mile to the showers just to wash off and then clean it all up at 1 in the morning. I spent the night laying in a truck bed. Fuck Missouri.

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Fuck it, indeed. It totally made you do that.