Adventure, Employment, farts, Humor, Life, POOP, Uncategorized

It’s OK to Poop at Work

The other day my feet got wet on the way to work. I had these cheap little Payless shoes on, so, naturally, my feet started to smell. They smelled so badly that I could smell them through a stuffy nose. I ran to the closest shoe store on my lunch break (which just happened to be Payless) and bought some shoes. Now, when I say “some shoes” I mean 4 pairs of shoes, 2 pairs of slipper socks and $2 bracelet donation for Breast Cancer awareness. When I spoke to Captain Clam, I only told him how much money I saved. Oops! Of course, I was happy to have had the stinky feet debacle of 2013 while Payless was having a BOGO sale, so the $60 spent was not too shabby for all those things (except now my feet are starting to stink again on their own accord (damn plastic shoes!!)).


These are them.

As I was leaving the store, I saw this awesome Diner right next door. I am almost positive that the universe would have ended if I did not have a grilled cheese immediately. About an hour or so later, the belly rumbles started. There was simply too much stuff in my belly. The inevitable was about to happen: The Work Poop.


It moves your bowels.

Oh Man. We have all been there. I previously worked at places that had private bathrooms, where the bathroom was just a small room with a sink and a toilet (and one time, strangely enough, a full bathtub and shower). My new work facilities are three stalls, two poorly working sinks, and a hand blower that produces hurricane force winds.  Sadly, no one actually uses the hand dryer, they use toilet paper, which sometimes (very rarely) leaves the bathroom without any TP under the sink (a catastrophe in wait, if you ask me).

toilet paper

The smallest stall is for women who are under 4 feet tall. It hurts to use. This stall is usually void of any TP as it the closest to the sink and completely uninhabitable by most of us. Of course, you can make yourself fit with minimal effort, but it’s a little claustrophobic and extremely dark. The door, however is always closed. And since no one uses it, it has become the best pooping stall in the ladies bathroom. The only drawback is the toilet paper issue.

I generally don’t like to poop in public, but will definitely do it and shine as I recount the tale of my bathroom adventure. According to my cousin, Girl Ryan, there is a phobia known as PIP, which is the phobia of Pooping in Public. She has written extensively on her blog HERE about the fear and overcoming it. I have read her post a million times and was shocked to learn that I had been doing some of the things that ALL women do.


Pooping in public can sometimes feel like this classic scene from “Bridesmaids.”

For instance, I really thought I was the only lady to flush the toilet if I had to poop and someone was in the restroom with me during extreme emergency. I do that at work sometimes if I think someone will come in while the deed is being done. If someone walks in just as the deed is about to be done, I get stage fright and the deed gets pinched. If someone does come in before it happens, I seriously pussy out and leave. No guts, No glory, right?


Where the magic happens.

When I started dreaming up this post and writing it in my head (where it sounded hilarious and witty), I reached out to That Girl Ryan to ask for a link and her blessing (after all she did write her poop post first). Of course she obliged because we are all interested in getting the message out there, and told me that she has a new poop post in the works. I am so excited for it and hope that this poop post inspires her to get that shit together (so many puns, so little time).

When I was a teen, I worked at the Pancake Cottage in my town (Riverhead, Long Island (the greatest shit hole on earth)). I was lucky enough to work with one of my best friends. We had nicknames that we would call each other (she still calls me Goober to this day). Well, I was really good at making Milkshakes. Whenever anyone ordered a Shake, I was the go-to girl. One (or both) of us  dreamed up the perfect concoction: The Coffee Milkshake, which is self- explanatory (mind you this was the 90’s and frappaccinos had not yet taken off in our small town). I proceeded to make the most deliciously bad ass Coffee Milkshake ever. After exactly 20 minutes and 36 seconds, my dear Ferox and I looked at each other and KNEW that the milkshake was a really bad idea and we were about to pay for our milky sins.


Instant regret.

I actually had to email her about this story to remember how we handled the Pancake Cottage Coffee Milkshake shit-storm. I needed to know if we both used the bathroom at the same time and flushed the entire time or if we had guarded the door, pretending that it was a single toilet water closet and we were simply waiting in line. Both of these false memories were wrong. According to her memory, we ran the water for each other. How simple (and what great friends we are!)!

I learned a great lesson that day: It’s OK to poop at work.


Even today, I walked into the ladies room and someone blew that shit up ( I won’t name any names, but it was a small woman  who looks like she smells like apricots and chap-stick made out of sunshine). The bathroom was a fog of farts and residue. It was hard not to tear up from the burning stench, and even harder not to acknowledge this woman’s feat with a high five. It was simply ignored as if there was no awful odor seeping it’s way into the fibers of my clothing. The worst part about this type of work poo is that it’s not yours, but if timed properly, you can and will be blamed for it.

It happens more frequently than I’d like, but I do go into the restroom (to rest, of course) and someone is in there trying to get their business done. I walk in and I can feel them cringe, knowing that I know that they are trying to do the do (sometimes they are also just on their phones, which makes it hard for me to even go number 1, knowing that the party on the other line might hear my tinkle). It’s at that awkward point where people are clearing their throats or fidgeting with the TP that I just want to say” It’s okay to poop!” I really don’t care. We all poop (I’m pretty sure there’s a children’s book about it).


Awkward for everyone involved…

I have no idea why pooping is so taboo. I mean, if we didn’t poop, we’d die a horrible death. I can understand why farting is funny. It’s loud and sometimes comes out unexpectedly (and it can be so foul that you can’t help but laugh at just how disgusting you are), but pooping? It’s like, “Oh no, she’s totally excreting in this room built for excreting. How dare she!”  You may often feel like if you are discovered, you will be forever shamed for the rest of your term of employment as The Pooper. Why does it have to be like that? Whaaa!!!!

Unfortunately, it is like that. Too bad there is not some noise machine in the bathroom that cancels out all noises or keeps noises restrained to the inside of the stall. Or perhaps mandatory fountains in every bathroom that run loudly enough to muffle the sound of splashes, but gentle enough to relax all the right muscles.


Just looking at this makes me have to pee so bad!

Air freshener is always a nice commodity for a good cover up, but it’s a dead give-away. My air freshener trick is to spray in a random corner of the bathroom – just a squirt (after you wash your hands of course), then run like a bat out of hell so the fumes don’t stick to you. I advise using the air freshener every time you go. People will be thrown off and will either think you poop every hour or think nothing of it since the bathroom will always be fresh. Suckers!

No matter what happens… Ignore and Deny! Whether or not you are indeed the Pooper or not, just act normal like nothing is wrong or different in the atmosphere. Ignore it. Don’t mention it. People will notice and might follow suit and get over the fact that bodily functions are not put on hold just because you are at work. If someone is like”Damn, Girl!” Just smile and give ’em a High Five (after hand washing, of course).

THIS is a great read for anyone interested in learning how to poop at work effectively.

Adventure, Employment, I hate cats!, I love cats!

Mattress Emergency


It would seem that the kitties need a babysitter. Since Captain Clam and I have returned to the land of Capitalism, the babies have peed inside of my favorite purse, broken a vase (destroying the plant inside), peed all over my fire escape garden, and destroyed our bed…. and when I say ” destroyed” I mean we had to throw the mattress out because they pissed their hearts out all over it and all of our bedding. Apparently they need a larger litter box for their bathroom pleasure. Jerks.

The romance surrounding a bed is so very important, although the Clam and I have been camping on the floor for a few days (efforting at the passion of being completely uncomfortable and sleeplessly grouchy (makes pitching a tent in the Living Room completely undesirable)) with the intention of taking advantage of Sleepy’s Labor Day Sale (can you believe it’s already Labor Day)? When we went to Sleepy’s, The Mattress Professionals, the Mattress on sale was unbelievably awful.  We sat down on the the floor sample and I am pretty sure that I actually broke it (and ew, I hate sitting on mattresses that are not covered. Like could you please put a sheet on this thing? Raw mattresses just plain gross me the eff out. They are greasy and dirty looking).

So, with the nasty mattress being so cheap and gross and springy, we learned that delivery was still one day away (plus 100 million dollars extra) and Customer’s Own Pick up was, like, One Million Years away. Now, there are a few “furniture” stores in our neighborhood, so we decided to shop around and see what the sales were and maybe even find something right around the corner from the Chateau de Clam. Well, it seems like it’s okay to sell “refurbished” mattresses in NYC, even with the bed bug epidemic (so gross to even think about). We didn’t even look, but there are rumors and I am sure to be overreacting, because I am so totally misunderstood.

So returning home totally disappointed, the Clam and I hunker down for another romantic night of sleeping on the floor. We set up our campsite on the IKEA area rug and gather a small (and I mean small) camping mattress, a yoga mat, a sleeping bag, a fleece blanket, some fabric samples (used to make extra pillows (that just sucked and were not even worth the effort)), pillows, and a crocheted poncho my mom made for me. Now that I am writing this, we seriously need to do more laundry or buy more blankets (how sad we are always playing “catch up!”).

After a few days of mattress turmoil, we realized just how stupid we were for sleeping on the make-shift living room campground. We went to the dollar store and bought a blow up mattress (WHAT IDIOTS!) I heart you dollar store)). I don’t think I have ever slept so soundly on a blow up mattress, and it certainly felt like I had never slept so soundly in my entire life. Sadly, I am still exhausted and my body is aching like a MoFo.

Every night I have to add air to our lovely new mattress (and I totally pretend it’s floating on the lava sea and if my feet hang off or touch the floor then they are total goners) and every morning when my handsome Clam rolls off of our new temporary bed and desperately stumbles to his feet (he’s 6’2), my body seeps to the floor and I am reminded of how awful it was to camp out inside. I am sorry to have waited so long to remember that blow up mattresses even existed. Silly Goose on my part!

The plus side to this debacle is that now we have a blow up mattress, which means that we can have grown up sleepovers, that is if the cats don’t sabotage our new accessory. I have clipped their nails in anticipation for the uprising. We are now in defense mode and holding the opposition at bay…. for now…


For your viewing pleasure…


Adventure, Employment, Today was Awesome, Unemployment

Fully Functioning: Day 1


Today felt like the first day of school. I spent a “wild” weekend with my parents and sisters and their kids, getting tan, swimming at the beach, and drinking my face off at the Polish Town Fair in Riverhead (serious shout out to Long Island). Then I recovered, came back to reality, got a hair cut and had all the unwanted hair removed from my face (mustache included), went grocery shopping, did laundry, and prepared lunches for Captain Clam and myself. I even laid my clothes out for the day (undies and all).

Trying to sleep all night was like being a kid waiting to go to Great Adventure the next day…. you can’t fall asleep and have a really hard time waking up (certainly not at 6am (boo hoo whaa whaa)). Of course, I made the mistake of watching a delicious show called Sons of Anarchy right before bed, so my mind was racing with thoughts of Jax Teller and the adventure that awaited me today in the wonderful world of gainful employment. I was also writing this post in my mind (it was much better in my head at 3am. Sorry, friends).

So, on 3 hours of sleep, I kissed my gorgeous Captain goodbye at Atlantic Terminal and ventured to Union Square to start the next chapter in the saga of my life. This is turning out to be quite an interesting book. How wonderful it is to work in a factory again. Of course I work in the office, but to be a part of a factory and to have sagging, creaking wooden floors under my feet and sewing machines running and human machines doing…. it’s a great feeling. It’s also a great feeling not to dread going to work everyday because the people you work with are selfish, snobby, rude pricks. Of course it’s only my first day and I may feel different once I get the hang of everything and all of the personalities I have to interact with. But today was a great day, not like previous first days that I have had where it was gloomy and awful for the first week and beyond.

Having gone through a shit fuck of a job with a beyond horrible boss and mediocre co-workers (with a few exceptions, of course), and then battling unemployment and the depression that accompanies it, I am so happy to be where I am – and in a factory no less. Funny how a fully functioning upholstery/seating/drapery factory can withstand the economy on 18th Street in Manhattan, but a poorly run factory in LIC, Queens (lame) can’t handle the pressure (or is run by some maniacal illusionist who has no idea how to run a business or read spreadsheets or emails with financial information in them or just plain read emails in general) and is “forced”  to outsource it’s overly priced seating items to China. Burn.

Rant ranted.

And Funny… Captain Clam is now working in a factory, too (oh, as Design Director!(what?!)). We are gonna have the best nerd talk ever during the next few years. Yay! When we went shopping on Monday, Le Clam purchased new slacks, shirts, and shoes. Today he was such a handsome piece of ass. Of course he told me that dress shoes aren’t for him and he felt like he was wearing ski’s all day, but I did have a hard time letting him get off the train without making out for at least one million minutes.

Now we are about to feast on salad and make tomorrow’s lunches. Oh how I heart sandwiches! I can’t wait to fall asleep and wake up to an amazing new place to work and a new dynamic group of people to get to know. Thank you friends and readers for being so awesome. And you’re welcome for me being just as awesome as you.

I love you.

Adventure, Bucket List, Employment, Photo Blog, Today was Awesome, Unemployment

Today was Awesome

Just a quick little recap of this amazing day I am having.

I got up, starving. I rummaged through the fridge only to get stuck eating toast…. again. I did all my crappy chores, like check facebook one million times and wash my toast plate and clean the litter box (ew). I showered and got dressed and went out to take about 100 photos, then came home to edit them and start the blog that I have been trying to get going for ages… As I fill out the ABOUT page (which you can find HERE) I received a call from the people I have been sending snail mail thank you’s to and got a job offer that is actually relevant to all of my work experience. Then I cried (but just a little).

I like to think you started reading this post and were like “Oh here she goes again wha wha wha.” Well, Ha! Sometimes I am not sarcastic (but I usually am, so I forgive you).

So, now I am gainfully employed and an official Photo Blogger with all kinds of motivation pouring out of my gills. Plus I am seeing my amazing family this weekend and may even stick my toes into the ocean for the first time in about 4 years. AND it’s Polish Town Fair Weekend (google it if you have no idea what that is)! Plus, Captain Clam is on his way home from his gainful employment and I am going to make him make me dinner.

The only down side is now that I have the passion for my new project, I will have little time to pursue it. OF COURSE that would happen! Even when I win, I lose! I guess a blog ain’t gonna pay my bills, so functioning humans of society, I will be joining you on Tuesday.

Thank you, my dear readers, for your support and your ability to read. I hope that this is the light at the end of the tunnel and it only gets brighter until I’m dead. I love you all.

Oh, and check out my new Photo Blog Portraits of Brooklyn.


Today I “shot” Sunglasses

Adventure, Employment, Food, Unemployment

Captain Clam Goes to Work

Captain Clam Joins the Clam Race!

Captain Clam Joins the Great Clam Race!

YAY! One of us is gainfully employed! Of course the cats are just lazy little heffers and don’t really budge from their queen size throne all day, so we count very little on them for financial support (although the bugs are kept at bay (Squirrel likes to eat them as an afternoon snack)).

Squirrel: Captain of Bug Patrol Services.

Squirrel: Captain of Bug Patrol Services.

So, Captain Clam, after a long job search has finally found work worthy of his immense talents. He had been working freelance for a few years as an industrial designer (mostly furniture and all that sort of interesting stuff that design nerds feast on), but the market has proven to be too awkward and fluxuated for guaranteed survival. It’s either a million dollars a week or $150 a month.

Once he began his search, Clam realized just how hard it is to find a job, especially in the summer when everyone is hiring interns. Or they are hiring overly qualified, desperate people for mid level jobs. It’s a sad sob story (See Adventures In Unemployment).

Anyway, The Clam has been heading off to work at an ungoldy hour since Tuesday. The job is growing on him. The commute, however, is not – an hour and a half each way. uggh! He is commuting to the Bronx from Brooklyn, which wouldn’t be too bad, but we live kinda deep in the Brooklyn, and his job is really deep in the Bronx. We are now looking for apartments closer to his job (Hopefully my old stomping ground of Mott Haven.


Shameless Plug for my pal, Jamie Jones and New York Graphics Studio. BUY THIS SHIRT HERE:

I feel bad about his commute time and keep telling him about this awesome book that I have read and love… it’s a Roald Dahl Short Stories book (for grown ups like me (it’s so awesome!)) Check it out at Best Of Roald Dahl. He told me if I don’t shut up about it, he’s gonna hide the book and no one will ever read it again! So I gave him a different book this morning. I will, however, revisit the Roald Dahl discussion in a few weeks (I can be very persuasive).

I have been getting up with him at 6:20 every morning, packing his lunch and even leaving little love notes in the “bag of yum.” Today’s note was from one of our cat’s Wee (he insisted on writing Captain Clam a letter in regards to the greasiness of his lunch). The Cap‘n used to do the same for me when I was employed, but too poor and fat for take-out everyday.

He Loves Me!

He Loves Me!

Of course, I take a 14 hour nap after he leaves for the trenches and then get up and am completely besides myself because I have no idea what the day (or afternoon) has in store for me.

So I clean (kinda). And I cook. And then I clean from cooking and then cook some more (I love to cook!). I prepare a few blog ideas, work on a few projects, eat, check facebook and blog stats every 10-15 seconds (I have twitter, but find it kinda boring. Follow me anyway! @yourmommasmomma), and maybe sweep a little and pet the kitties. I go on a beer run around 4, since I feel like there is a happy hour somewhere. When Captain C. calls me around 5, I slap my apron back on, start the oven and begin cooking all the food I prepared for first half of the afternoon.

Yesterday I made the mistake of going grocery shopping alone. I thought I could do it all in one trip. Normally The Clam comes with me and carries all the heavy stuff. I thought, “Well, I’m a tough bitch, I can do this!” Ha! Tough Bitch my Ass! All of my canvas shopping bags were full and I had about 6 plastic bags (that’s what you get when you go to the store hungry). I went to four different stores and was stupid enough to buy 10 pounds of kitty litter. Although I was only three blocks from my apartment, I had to stop four times to rest. No one helped me, although my rear end received numerous shout outs along the way.

Today, my arms hurt.

And now I give you BAG LADY by ERYKAH BADU (she is the shiz on a shiz sandwich)

Tonight we are eating spaghetti in a garlic/olive oil sauce with shrimp, brocolli and fresh tomatoes. His new co-workers are gonna be so jealous tomorrow. I hope he brags about his little home-maker (AKA unemployed) girlfriend and her phenomenal cooking abilities (he better!). I should stop (but should I?). He once called me a “short order chef.” And that, my friends, is a cold hearted Captain Clam Compliment! Of course, I am the queen of making something out of nothing, and making it DAMN GOOD! I also make things sometimes that are just plain gross and inedible. We try to eat them and then just laugh and throw the meal out and order a pizza. The true test is to see if MR T. (one of our other cats) will eat it (She will seriously eat anything).

Mr T laughing at my attempt at cooking. You think this is a joke? jerk!

Mr T laughing at my attempt at cooking. You think this is a joke? Jerk!

I hate to admit it, but I am growing less bored each day with Captain Clam out of the house. It’s nice to miss him! After spending 3 months virtually glued together, we actually have stuff to talk about that isn’t cat related or laundry-argument focused. Of course now I have to do laundry! He told me to wait for him to do laundry, but I know he didn’t mean it!

Oh, Captain Clam, I love you!

I made him wear this tie on his first day (no I didn't).

I made him wear this tie on his first day (no I didn’t).


This post was approved by Captain Clam.