My husband Joey and I were in our pool. When we got out and were drying off, he playfully whacked me in the butt with the end of his towel.
I tried to snap my towel back at him to reciprocate the stinging little ‘ouch’ he left on my right butt cheek, but I was just too uncoordinated to do it right.
When he tried to snap me again with his towel, I grabbed it before he could inflict another little ‘ouch’, and a playful game of Tug of War began.
Joey pulled his hardest to try and make me lose my grip on my end of the towel, but I had him outweighed by 20 pounds (Ok… 40) and I really put my weight into holding onto the other end of the towel.
He tugged, I pulled, and we both held fast to our end of the damp towel. Our bodies were both leaning backwards at nearly perfect 45-degree angles. We faced each other, giggling and taunting and teasing each other, really getting into our game of Tug of War.
Suddenly, Joey decided it would be fun to let go of his end of the towel, and I fell backwards, landing on my butt, and much to my HORROR, a very large, very loud FART let itself out as well!
Joey’s eyes got as wide as I’ve ever seen them, and he immediately doubled over into hysterical fits of laughter. I’m talking out-of-control-nearly-peeing-in-his-swimsuit-complete-with-tears-running-down-his-face-and-gasping-for-air-like-a-fish-out-of-water kind of laughter. (I wanted to kill him.)
I was absolutely MORTIFIED. I am very modest, (even though I talk a good game!) and I knew my face was redder than the beach towel I was holding as my prize for winning our tug of war game. As I sat there, I put my hands over my face, growing more and more angry with each second. I was madder than hell at Joey for not being able to compose himself and stop laughing at me.
When he finally realized I did NOT find this amusing, he tried to calm himself down and utter a half-assed apology to me. However, when he tried to speak, his laughter made his words intelligible, which set him off into ever-louder guffaws that made him hold his stomach, as his muscles were beginning to hurt. This, of course, made me even angrier.
I was so pissed off. I wanted to sulk. I wanted Joey to stop laughing and I wanted him to apologize. But much to my chagrin, as I stood up, a second fart let itself rip! (Damned Guacamole!)
Any little bit of composure Joey night have managed to recover during his laughing fit was gone the instant he realized this game had turned into a double-header! Yes, folks! Believe it or not, she's just performed an astounding ENCORE performance for your listening pleasure!
Now let me explain something: Joey is the King of Flatulence. He has a signature series all his own; and he proudly takes credit for each of his masterpieces. Occasionally, he’ll try to blame a SBD (Silent But Deadly) on Harry-Harry, our cat. But, I always remind him that if Harry was physically capable of letting out that quantity of foul air, he’d be flying uncontrollably around the room like a deflating balloon, and would be as flat as a pizza box after he’d finished letting it rip. So nice try, Joey.
I, on the other hand, try to hold in MY um… gas (*blush*) until I can get into the bathroom. It’s within that small sanctuary I can turn on the exhaust fan, run the sink water at full blast, fake a cough and flush the toilet simultaneously. This routine offers maximum sound buffering and odor protection as well. (Another trick I've used, is the old 'strike a match and the flame will burn off any lingering gas odors' method. However, one time I singed my fingertip and dropped the match down into the crotch of my panties, where it burned a hole...) 
So here we were – Joey and I, standing face to face; both of our faces RED. (His from laughing, and MINE from Humiliation.) I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, and he wanted to stop himself from hysterics, and start doing Damage Control before I went Postal on him. Joey and I have been together for nearly 20 years, and he has seldom heard me pass gas. (…yes, as bawdy as I am, I’m really that prudish when it comes to my own flatulence!)
By now, I had reached the time when I found it necessary for me to play "Ostrich".
“Ostriching” is when I stick my head into the proverbial sand and pretend NOTHING REALLY HAPPENED, and it helps me to get past humiliating situations with minimal damage to my psyche.
Once in the zone and in Ostrich Mode, I can actually convince myself that NOTHING REALLY HAPPENED - and then, in my mind, it simply DIDN'T. (I’ve gotten so good at Ostriching; I’ve started growing feathers.)
A few minutes passed, and as I entered full Ostrich Mode, I found it was now possible for me to forgive and forget BOTH of my, um… ‘Transgressions’ as if NOTHING REALLY HAPPENED. As far as I was concerned, I won at Tug Of War, and Joey lost. Thus, he was having a breakdown on the lounge chair, giggling to himself like The Village Idiot.
Yes, Joey was laughing like a lunatic on the Lounger, but now I knew it’s simply because he’s totally gone off his rocker. He’s gone insane for no apparent reason, because NOTHING REALLY HAPPENED.
I gingerly turned away from my convulsing husband, and placed the damp towel onto the poolside drying rack (SINCE NOTHING REALLY HAPPENED!) and I walked over to our hot tub. Joey was beginning to breathe now, however sporadically and with great gulping sounds and an occasional snort. He kept wiping tears from his eyes. I wonder why he was crying? (Ostriching is a WONDERFUL thing!)
I sat on the short wall that surrounds our hot tub, and watched the water tumble down the natural rock waterfall. I swung my legs around and put my feet into the hot tub and gently slid my body down into to comfortable 102-degree water. It felt wonderful. And since NOTHING REALLY HAPPENED, I allowed the warm water to gently soothe me while the gurgle of the waterfall drowned out Joey’s snorts, laughter and giggles from the other side of our Courtyard. (Very strange man.)
I sat with my back against the waterfall, leaning back to allow the heat of the rocks to warm my shoulders as the water ran over my head and face, relaxing me. I was totally calm now, and thoroughly enjoying my soak in the hot tub. The sound of the splashing water, and the heat from the rocks transformed me... I could now smell the sweet and gentle scents of Hibiscus and Jasmine as they wafted through the air, intermingling and intoxicating me, taking me somewhere else... perhaps where Ostriches roam.
A few moments later, Joey joined me in the hot tub. (He finally stopped laughing.) He kissed me on my forehead and he smiled as I snuggled up to his shoulder.
“NOTHING REALLY HAPPENED!” I was thinking to myself. I leaned further into him; he lifted his arm and put it around me, pulling me into his chest as the hot waterfall rushed over our bodies. We were both enjoying the sensations of the gentle water jets, combined with the heat of the waterfall, and the sensation of being so close to each other… He kissed the top of my head and I nuzzled my face into his chest. Things were really beginning to warm up, indeed... 
I asked Joey if he wanted me to turn the hot tub bubbler up a notch to create a stronger pulse from the jets, to allow the water to totally relax and massage us. He shook his head and said to me, "Nah... why don't you just let out another FART??!!"
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