Relationship Fart Quotes

Our camels plodded along. Katrina tried to kiss, or possibly spit on Hindenburg, and Hindenburg farted in response. I found this a depressing commentary on boy-girl relationships.

We are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you any different. KURT VONNEGUT, JR.

If you have to force it, leave it. Friendships. Yoga poses. Relationships. Food. A fart. No matter what, that shit ain’t worth it. -Note to Self Kitt

I find the beginning of any relationship mostly about pretending to listen and holding in farts.

The biggest milestone in a relationship is when you can fart in front of each other freely and loudly. Without judgements

It is impossible to maintain fantasy in the face of true emotional intimacy. Fantasy alienates, disconnects, and isolates people. Fantasy and cults isolate people. Fantasy is a cult. Weather that fantasy is nationalism, racism, or religiosity. It isolates people because there is so much you can't talk about. Once you make an ideal, the possible intimacy becomes impossible. The whole world recoils from depth because in depth is common humanity. In depth we are all one. We all shit, fart, fuck, die, think fear, love, and hate. All hierarchy must alienate people from connecting with each other from speaking openly and honestly about thoughts and feelings. To connect is to dislodge the imaginary pyramids of artificial privilege.

Anyway, it was Oscar who called me to remind me that our nephew, Lydia's son Garnett, was turning eleven years old. Fuck my life. I hated that kid. He smelled like asparagus, and he sweated way too much for a healthy child; but then Garnett, given his propensity for biting teachers and catching chipmunks in the backyard only to bury them alive, was no normal kid. He was a case study for sociopathic behavior in the making. A walking, talking, farting, sweaty, odorous, chipmunk-burying cry for help.

As with so many other things that are plainly obvious to most people, I had to be told that annoyances were to be expected and tolerated in any relationship, and especially in a marriage. Though I may not have realized that on my own, once it was explained to me, I understood exactly what it meant. Kristen put it this way: “You hog the blankets, Dave. You take months deciding which computer to buy. The instant we all pile into the car and shut the doors, you fart. That stuff is so annoying, and so not a problem.” What was a problem, she explained, was beating myself up over every little thing and creating drama that nobody needed.

Dealing with another human being on an intimate level is an exercise that is inherently fraught with difficulties. All human beings have good and bad traits/habits--no one is perfect. Even the most wonderful, "perfect for you" guy is going to do things that annoy you to no end, like leaving the toilet seat up, farting in bed, or conveniently forgetting how to put a new roll of toilet paper on the holder after using the last of it. That's life, people.

There's a reason why most men don't read romance: Romance novels are wish-fulfillment for women. The fictitious men in romance novels fall all over themselves trying to please a woman. Does that sound like your real life experience with men? No of course not. (Except for guys who want to fuck you. There is no man more attentive as the guy who wants to fuck you for the first time.) That's why you read romance. To get something you don't get in real life. Because your husband's idea of romance is bringing out the trash and not farting during sex.

Sometimes, just for fun, I type some random, silly word in front of the word porn and google it. Just to see if it exists. Because that means people out there are getting off on it. So I googled Nazi porn. Yupp. It exists. Then I googled goldfish porn. Yupp. Found it. Someone out there finds sex with goldfish arousing. Fart porn. Yes, that's a thing too, and it brings someone somewhere great pleasure. Stormtrooper porn. Yes, the force is strong with that one. And it's not even a Saturday Night Live parody. It's literally hardcore porn, featuring men dressed in Stormtrooper outfits. With surprisingly high production values.

I’ve always hated dating,” I said instead. “In fact, if I could bypass all that might I bestow upon you a kiss business, I would. Why can’t we all just skip to the comfortable part of relationships? Go straight to the bit where you can walk around in your undies, let farts go and blame them on the dog, and leave the door open when you’re taking a piss?” “First of all, there is no part of a relationship that should involve that last bit, and second of all, dating is the best part. All those butterflies and excitement, the sexual tension. Wanting to skip to the comfortable bit is laziness. It means you don’t have to put in any effort to woo someone. Also, if memory serves, you’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than six months.” “Thanks for the reminder, oh Sarah of Ye Old Wet Blanket,” I groused, but she was right. I hadn’t dated anyone for longer than six months; and even then it hadn’t really been a relationship with any meaningful or lasting impact. “Ye Old Wet Blanket was my grandmother’s name, I’ll have you know...You’re thirty years old, practically a baby. You’ve just burned yourself out. You need to find the excitement in life again, the thrill to be had from simple things.” “I do get a thrill from simple things,” I countered. “Didn’t I mention I fixed my tap this weekend? And I had Earl Grey tea with breakfast.” “Oh. Stop. Too much excitement. I can’t handle it.

Primer of Love [Lesson 58] Love is the fart Of every heart: It pains a man when 'tis kept close, And others doth offend, when 'tis let loose. ~ John Suckling, 'Love's Offence' Lesson 58) What guarantees the value of the relationship's estate? Ventilation, Ventilation, Ventilation. A good relationship is well regulated like a thermostatically controlled HVAC system. It cools you off when things get hot headed. It warms you up when there's a cold front building between you. Most importantly, it ventilates when the stink of decay permeates the air. That's you're signal to take a long walk in the fresh air.

Loving someone who doesn't love themselves is like farting for someone whose sense of smell doesn't exist

Love is like a fart, if you force it it's probably crap.

There's a reason why most men don't read romance: Romance novels are wish-fulfillment for women. The fictitious men in romance novels fall all over themselves trying to please a woman. Does that sound like your real life experience with men? No of course not. (Except for guys who want to fuck you. There is no man more attentive as the guy who wants to fuck you for the first time.) That's why you read romance. To get something you don't get in real life. Because your husband's idea of romance is bringing out the trash and not farting during sex.

...Kellen, it’s all just trial and error and making up your mind to live with a shitload of errors.” “Thank you for ripping the romanticism right out of love and crushing it,” Kellen said dryly. “Well, there’s good things about loving someone too. If you pick the right one, you’ll know you have someone to stand beside you no matter what life throws your way. It’s all peaks and valleys. That’s what marriage is. You’re stuck in a rotation of loving someone with all your heart and wanting to smother them with a pillow. It gets better when you’re older because you’re too tired to start over, plus prison isn’t a good place for a woman in her seventies.” Kellen smiled at Trulee. “I don’t know if you realize this or not, but you’re steadily talking me out of wanting to fall in love.” “Let’s deal in reality, honey. If you and Stevie have a long life together, she will eventually have the desire to smother you. Sleep with one eye open, and don’t dry your socks in the microwave like your uncle did this morning. The damn thing smells like a pickle sweltering on fresh asphalt in August. I couldn’t even rewarm my coffee in it. I’m not a good person to talk to about love right now because I’m definitely on the wanting to smother side of the rotation.” “So you’re saying my problem with having to tell Walt might be resolved by tomorrow morning after you’ve smothered him?” Kellen asked with a laugh. “Maybe by this afternoon, Walt does like to take a nap after a fishing trip.” Trulee laughed, too, and bumped Kellen with her shoulder. “Think about this, too. You won’t only want to smother Stevie, you’re gonna want to take a pillow to everyone in her family. The saying ‘you marry your in-laws’ is very true.” “Whew, that’s a sobering thought.” “You hang on to those sobering thoughts for dear life. No one is completely perfect, we all come with baggage. I’d been married to Walt a few months when I learned he enjoyed yodeling, and he wasn’t even any good at it. That was the first little bag he unpacked, the second was full of belches and farts. I started unpacking my bags, too, and one of them had my momma in it. I had her over to the house all the time because I missed her. I have only encountered Joan Sealy twice, and if Stevie unpacks her, you’d better have a pillow handy.” Kellen grinned. “Stop it.

I suffered through that live-action Cats movie last night trying to score points with the wife. One fart–one–and I lost all my progress.' Fox bit back a smile. "No luck, huh?' 'Had to sleep on the couch,' grumbled the deckhand. 'Don’t take it so hard, man.' Fox shivered, despite the heat. 'That movie could dry up the Pacific.' 'I don't know, there's just something about Judi Dench…' Sanders mused.

Eventually, I realized that the fuel from relationships was about as substantial as that of a fart to a fireplace. It never lasted long, always blew up on itself, and more often than not, left an agonizing mark.

Being single is wonderful! Doing whatever you want whenever you want to — nothing beats that. Some of my personal favourites are finding the food you left in the fridge is still there when you get home, not having to compromise, sleeping diagonally in the bed, never dealing with your partner’s mood swings, and not having to pretend to be asleep to avoid having sex when you’re not in the mood. Another part of my relationship phobia was letting a new person get to know me. I’m not talking about the surface me — I’m talking about the bad-breath-in-the morning, clip-my-toenails-on-the-toilet, farting, and head-tie-wearing me. To be loved, you have to let a person see all of you — that means both the best and the worst. My fear was whether, when they saw the worst, they would actually want to stay.

If I’d known it was going to be you back there I’d have eaten pickled onions and cabbage. Lots of them.” Serena’s fury faltered as Ritchie laughed. Warm and soulful. “And don’t laugh. I’m being serious.” “I know. That’s why I’m amused. Also it makes me extra glad that no one leaked the plan to you in advance. I love you, Serena, but at this point in our relationship I don’t know if I’m willing to die for you, especially if it’s death by fart-asphyxiation.