The Farting Saga Continues

Leave it to Anita at Fighting Inertia. (Frickin' hysterical post.) She has two boys. Bou’s house seems to be in a battle with the Pomerantz house for Fart Machines. A new twist on Keeping Up with the Jones’s.

Dammit.

She found a site called the Fartmart and not only do they have fart machines like the one I own, they have come out with a new handy dandy super deluxe fart machine which has 15 different noises, can be transmitted up to 100 feet and get this… it can be transmitted through walls.

My boys are currently unaware. I hope to keep it that way. But I have this suspicion that this secret will not remain and once my husband or my boys get wind (no pun intended) that there is a Fartmachine 2, we will own one too. The Fart Machine 1 of my previous post will now not suffice.

Let me tell you, this current one we have is a hit with every person in my life owning a Y-Chromosome. My children took it with them to my folk’s house for Christmas. Allow me to paint a family picture for you: I have 1 husband, 3 sons, 1 father, and 1 brother. That leaves me with six, count ‘em SIX! fart machine utilizers. Holy crap, Lions tours. I thought I hated that thing BEFORE, I am past loathing at this point.

Near the end of our vacation, my brother confiscated it and hid it in the boy's bunk room. It would get nice and quiet as the three of them were trying to sleep and he would gently press the remote. A kid would come yelling down the hall about farts and my brother would have them blaming it on each other. “But no, Uncle! We know it’s not one of us farting! We know the sound of the fart machine and it was the fart machine!” "Are you sure," he would reply, "Because I really think it could have been Son#3."

One morning my brother was sleeping and he could hear them stirring in the next room. Lucky for him, he had that transmitter in the bed with him, just waiting for the right moment. Sure enough, he set it off. They were at a loss.

Then we were in the dining room one evening eating dinner, thankfully it was NOT Christmas dinner, and he had strategically hidden it so they couldn’t find it as he randomly made the fart machine do it’s thing during dinner. Oh that was a real highlight.

But the biggest highlight of all was probably the last night, the kids were trying to sleep and the fart machine kept going off. Finally Son#3 comes out, with his slight speech impediment and says, “We are twying to sleep, but we can’t because the faht machine keeps going off!!!”

Ahhh. Good times.

And Harvey… I finally found something I am #1 in on Google Searches. Nope, not fart machines. I am #1 for the search on Boudicca Fart Log. Leave it to the blog of a mother of three boys to be the number one google for something dealing with passing gas.