Dear Daphne: He Filled The Wrong Moat

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baron von crapalot asks:

Long has it been an early morning jape of mine to let forth with a trouser cough before leaving bed, and quickly pulling the covers up over her Ladyship’s head, thus allowing her the privilege of tasting the fragrance of my daily firstborn. This ne’er really goes down too well with her Ladyship, but over the years she has come to expect it. Recently though, the prelim to my AM b.m. has caused me great strife and left me banished to the servants wing overnight.

The problem started but a few nights ago, with the delivery of a rather pungent Chicken Vindaloo. It was not long after finishing it that the rumblings started. She, who must be obeyed, and I shortly retired to bed. The following morning, I was awakened by a vice-like grip around my middle. Assuming this to be a 'special' booty trumpet, I positioned myself accordingly, on my side with my back to her Ladyship, and waited for the dawn chorus. Now, as we bear in mind that both I and her ladyship sleep in the buff, the pressure built until… I let rip with what I thought was going to be a fart of quilt-raising volume. Alas, no, not even a shart; this was muck spreading of the worst kind… all up her Ladyship's back.

As she woke with a start, I instinctively pulled the covers over her head, thus making a shit situation very much worse.

After everyone had calmed down and the ambulance had left with the two servants tasked with cleaning her Ladyship and the bed, even with my apologies abound her Ladyship is now insisting that I sleep with the servants. They don't endure my early morning activities with the stiff upper lip that her Ladyship does, as I have already been landed with a black eye. What can I do to regain her Ladyship’s favor?


Dear Baron,

As I pen a response, dear Lordship, I am reminded of the words of a great comedic bard from both stage and screen:

”Diamonds. That’ll shut’er up.”

If the royal funds are low, however, his Lordship might find himself out in the cold. I see very few ways back to your Lady’s quarters that do not involve jewelry; and I am suspect to believe that the royal jewels have already taken a dusting, as it is.

While I might better relate to the good-natured tavern wench whose plump bottom you’ve pinch during many Lads’ Nights Out than to your royal Lady, I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume that Ladies do not like to wake up with shit in their laps. I don’t think they appreciate the Dutch Oven treatment, either. As hard as it might be for you to believe, your farts stink; and they kinda’ gross us out.

You made Brown in the vicinity of the most sacred part of your Lady’s anatomy because you thought it would be funny to fart on her. While catastrophic, this is a golden opportunity for you to consider things from her point of view. Do not limit your self-reflection to your faulty ringpiece; instead, ask yourself where else she might detect sulfur in your relationship, whether that sulfur is real or metaphoric.

How does any woman feel when the person she shares her life with behaves worse in her presence than he would in that of others, such as family? It’s not that we Ladies don’t accept you menfolk for you are; we do. It’s that we often feel as if we don’t merit your efforts to impress. It’s as if we are taken for granted; and it is actually this transgression that has taken you, Baron, from the silk sheets to the stables. Not only did you shit on her, but you shit on her.

If you want to make it back to the bed of your Lady, you are going to have to put forth a little more effort in the home and hygiene department, and you are going to have to promise to stop purposefully farting in bed. Compose a contract that declares you will no longer engage her in unappreciated gaseous warfare, and stick to it. Present it, pre-signed, during appetizers at her favorite restaurant, and splurge a little; no harm ever came from perusing the Wal-Mart jewelry counter. Remember – she has seen you naked.

I firmly believe your actions will make all the difference if they come from your heart instead of from your lower colon.

My sincerest well wishes, as you are a veteran PoopReporter, and we want to see you knee-deep in booty.

Love is supposed to be fun!

daphne

Do you have relationship trouble? Ask it here.
















23 Comments on "Dear Daphne: He Filled The Wrong Moat"

ChiefThunderbutt's picture
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I'm on your side Baron, it's not like you shat on her Ladyship purposely, accidents do happen.
I feel sure that if you purchase her a bauble or trinket she will forgive you your transgression. I would suggest something like the Hope diamond or a nice star ruby or sapphire the size of a golf ball.


_______
Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

How long a minute is depends on what side of the bathroom door you're on!

plop cop's picture
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Chief called it, gonna have to come across with some big penance for that one Baron. I've heard of ladies who endure "the tent game", none that I recall ever enjoyed it. I cannot imagine the ire your Ladyship has expressed but you're gonna pay, then pay some more. Boy you are soooooo screwed.

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Now that's what a men's room is supposed to smell like!

Now that's what a men's room is supposed to smell like!

Rebekkah's picture
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If she does not like this, why do you do it to her? In my experience you must treat your loved ones like a more precious extension of the self.

I very much like how you write, though.

ChiefThunderbutt's picture
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Rebekkah, The Baron has been away for a while, probably in the slammer or something, and has been sorely missed by all his pals on PR. (Welcome back Baron)

He is a funny fellow and knows the rule that nothing is more intimate than a good dutch oven to cement a relationship, although they should be relatively dry and composed mostly of gas.

Have you never experienced a big borscht and vodka fart from a loved one, or perhaps delivered one to his nostrils yourself?

I love borscht and vodka both and, if we didn't sleep in separate rooms because of my snoring, would give my wife a whiff of cabbage, pork, and sweet potatoes tonight. They make a combo as good (almost) as borscht.


_______
Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

How long a minute is depends on what side of the bathroom door you're on!

plop cop's picture
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Borscht and vodka, yum! I'm for bratwurst with sauerkraut and red cabbage on the side. Lots of Dusseldorf mustard on the brat, all with a good German Bier. You see, I don't have the gnads for the tent game, Mrs Plop Cop don't play that, but after a plate of brats and cabbage, I do it in my sleep whether I want to or not. I get to wake up to the reaction and thankfully have enough plausible deniability/benefit of the doubt that I get to keep my kitchen pass!

_______
Now that's what a men's room is supposed to smell like!

Now that's what a men's room is supposed to smell like!

Deja Poo's picture
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I get along with the guys that I work with pretty well. We are not above farting during meetings. This is usually done for comedic effect, especially during teleconferences, where we can press the mute button on the telephone when we want to make our ass comments known. However, we don't fart during every meeting. Farts during meetings are few and far between.

Just like in a locker room, there are diminishing returns with farting. The first fart is hilarious, the second one is merely funny and so on, until you get to some point where it ceases to be funny altogether. If the behavior continues long enough, it will even become counterproductive. And, if you should happen to actually shit on anybody in the locker room, you had best be prepared to get your ass kicked. Your banishment to the stables is her equivalent of that locker room ass kicking.

The funny thing is, I can't think of a single instance of the object of my affection ever being impressed by my ass productions. Sure, I've had giggles and titters, but never a good gut-busting belly laugh followed by some good-natured ribbing. It's just the nature of matched-chromosome set, I suppose. Locker room bonding rituals work well with the guys but not with the girls, as a general rule. I guess they're just mostly humorless gits (at least in the guy sense of the word), but you have to love them anyway.

How you dig yourself out of this hole, well, that's a different story. If we were talking about guys, you would just take the much deserved ass whipping, lay low for a while, wait for the inevitable "get-even" turd inside the toe of your shoes, and then it's all good. You have been accepted back into the pack and will be member in full-standing before long.

But we're talking about women here. They're touchy-feely and have long memories. So, the first thing to bear in mind is that you are never going to live this down. So, every time there's a hot disagreement in the house, your face is going to be tarred with the remembrances of your errant fecal matter. Get used to this idea now. YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO LIVE THIS DOWN. It will always be the air biscuit in the room.

That doesn't mean that you can't move beyond this, though. I suspect that besides flowers, chocolates and diamonds, that you are going to have to prostrate yourself and admit that you are a worthless dolt completely undeserving of her divine presence and that not even wild dogs could drag another fart from your sorry ass from here until eternity. That, and you'll promise to never complain when she wants you to go shoe shopping with her.

BTW, it helps if you say it like you actually mean it. Of course, everybody including your wife will know that you don't. You just have to sound ...umm ...what's that word again? ...oh yeah, sincere.

And you're going to have to sleep in the stables for a while. You acted like a pig, now you're going to have to sleep with them. That's inevitable. The good news is that even barnyard animals need luvin too. Just don't get caught choking the chicken during this period. And, for gawdssake, don't come to HER bed smelling like a pigsty either.
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Yo quiero Taco Bell.

Yo quiero Taco Bell.

ChiliKahKah's picture
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Let's just quote a Fire Fally lyric....."that's a strange way to tell her you love her."

Rebekkah's picture
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Hello, Chief! Vodka doesn't make me fart, strangely enough. Borscht, kind of. It's stroganoff that gets me. It gets me bad. I am among first to admit that farting is hilarious, and trapping one under a sheet with fart is equally prized. However if I knew a loved one didn't think it funny, or used to think it funny and didn't anymore, I would stop. No offense meant to Baron, of course.

Baron: People say that only diamonds will help; this is sort of stereotype, and not always true. Just apologize and explain that you meant no disrespect! Be extra-sweet for a while, Her Ladyship shall come around.

Bilgepump's picture
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After she castrates you and jams your junk up your ass.


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"One of the founding members of the Front Page Hyena Pack, and runs as its alpha male when the urge strikes him, which is often." Daphne (one perceptive chick)

"One of the founding members of the Front Page Hyena Pack, and runs as its alpha male when the urge strikes him, which is often." Daphne (one perceptive chick)

poo pot pie's picture
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I would agree Rebekkah, diamonds aren't everything...I might start with a new set of sheets and a nice smelling candle or linen spray. Ladies like ambiance and sounds like your ass has its own ideas

Toxic Waste's picture
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Who doesn't enjoy a big wake-up toot? My missus, that's who. Oh sure, she may tolerate it, depending on what I ate the night before (note to self, pick up some borscht and vodka).

It's a pretty funny story, I did laugh out loud. But then, I'm not the one who has to live with the consequences. Man, I what can I say? Wow. I mean - wow. You emptied your bowel on your lady! I would follow Ms. Deja Poo's advice to the letter. However, I don't think she stressed enough that YOU WILL NEVER LIVE THIS DOWN. I can personally attest to the long memories that women possess. Especially women scorned (or sharted). Be prepared for the fact that 30 years from now, you may have an argument that will go something like this:

"Oh, where did I put my keys?"

"I don't know! Why don't you always hang them in the same place? That way you won't lose them."

"I always put them right here!"

"No, you leave them everywhere."

"Well, your the one that shat on me!"

Colon Chowdah's picture
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Baron, I believe that sometime in the not too distant future your wife will seek vengeance. And that vengeance will likely arrive in the form of a "Cleveland steamer" delivered whilst you sleep. Beware.

Thunderbox's picture
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The only thing I can suggest, Baron, is to get rid of one of your more worthless servants and take on an expert groom of the stool.

In the early hours he, or she, can sidle unknowingly in between you under the covers and take the brunt of your explosive morning eruptions, then sneak out again like a ninja.

Your lady wife would be none the wiser apart from thinking that you`d changed your ways. More nookie points for you!

Problem solved.

The voice of sanity

Bran Lover's picture
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Lady poo revenge. Tis a good thought my man, Colon Chowdah! Maybe her Ladyship should just get him back and they will be even. Get it? Get him back? GET HIM BACK???!!!

TAP TAP.

Is this thing on?

_______
To affect the quality of the poo, that is the art of life. ~Thoreau, sort of.

To affect the quality of the poo, that is the art of life. ~Thoreau, sort of.

Rebekkah's picture
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Bilgepump: after looking up 'castrate' in an online English-Russian dictionary thing, I am pretty sure your comment will give me nightmares. But I learned a new word, so thanks...?

Bilgepump's picture
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I take it you aren't married yet, Rebekkah, but you will become an expert at it once you are.


_______
"One of the founding members of the Front Page Hyena Pack, and runs as its alpha male when the urge strikes him, which is often." Daphne (one perceptive chick)

"One of the founding members of the Front Page Hyena Pack, and runs as its alpha male when the urge strikes him, which is often." Daphne (one perceptive chick)

Rebekkah's picture
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It is a good thing I do not want children, then, yes?

SourceOfKnowledge's picture
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If I may suggest an alternative to the non-illegal dutch oven: When driving lock your power windows then fart. There are less places to escape to when you're in a moving vehicle, and there is also less of a chance you'll get beaten.

Wow that stinks's picture
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I tried the tent game on my wife. She hated it. But the next morning she grabed my arm put it over her and curled up next to me so nice and sweetly then let on rip. i have not done the tent game after that.

prarie doggin's picture
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Source, unfortunately that trick has been employed so many times that most women now carry one of those Life Hammer escape tools in their purse, and you will be left with a costly window replacement. Don't ask me how I know this.

Intergalactic Poop Explosion's picture
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Haha, That is a great story! The only thing that would make it more funny is if you prolapsed all over your wife as well.

I think the possibility of more then a fart coming out is a instinctive fear generated through decades of everyday living in all human beings and I am impressed by your bold nature to spend each of your mornings dancing with the devil as you aim directly for your wife's back while she is laying down taking a nap.

Now I'm curious how this could not be seen coming?

By age 6, a human being is well aware how farts work and the dangers involved in trying to push one out beyond the body's capabilities.

By age 12, a human being learns of the humiliation of a carelessly judged fart as you soon realize that you are currently the only one sitting in your 6th grade English class with a muddy set of trousers. I've been there.

By age 15, a human has mastered the ability to identify a wet fart prior to letting it loose. Though this mastery is not fool proof, it only reduces the chances of humiliation by 20%.

By age 18, A young adult learns of the Sample Fart. The sample fart is the I-hope-its-not-poop fart issued early in the morning ensure that we can continue farting for the remainder of the day with out any worries.

With all these mishaps experienced through child hood, you cast your whole existence aside to misfire at the worst possible moment and the worst possible place. That is just fantastic! Baron Von Crapalot, You are the hero man kind!
I salute thee...

As far advice goes, that's a tough one. But I would start by replacing the bed sheets. I bet you could write a book on a list of things that do not remedy this quarrel.

junglistgirl77's picture
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I have to disagree with the above comment that states that girls/women do not find farts/fart humor as funny as our male counterparts. Au contraire, mon frere, I am indeed female, and do indeed laugh like a loon whenever anyone rips off a loud one. Juvenile behavior, perhaps, but no matter how old I get, I still think farts are hilarious. In my experience, it's usually the would-be boyfriends who don't find it as funny as I do; guy friends and brothers do, but, for some reason, guys that I am dating don't appreciate it when I find farts funny, or rip one myself. Now, I am not stupid; I never fart on a first, or even a second date. I know better, besides, I think that's against the unwritten girl code. However, it is somewhat of a deal breaker for me when a guy can't laugh at farting and pooping; everyone does both, after all.
I would, however, like Her Ladyship, decline to sleep with anyone who had pooed on me, in bed or out of it. The culprit could consider himself permanently cock-blocked.

Be sure to flush twice: once for the bulk, and then again for the remainder.

flushette's picture
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A-men, J-list. I have a feeling we'd both have a real good laugh over a fart.


_______

Never finish until you're done!

When you've got nowhere to go, and you feel it start to flow, diarrhea... diarrhea.