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!!)).

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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.

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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).

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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).

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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.

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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.

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Adventure, farts

I Like Farts

It’s true. We all love farts. And if you don’t like farts, then you are a fucking liar.

A good friend recently Facebook messaged me, asking if I had ever farted so smelly that it was like something had died inside of my bowels. Of course we have all been there. I answered back with, “Yes. It will be so bad that it actually is impressive.” Then about 10 minutes later messaged her to let her know how proud of myself I was for just doing what she had mentioned.

I am shameless (most of the time). I can talk about anything, and definitely don’t mind talking about poo or pee or other bodily functions. I’m okay with all of that to the point that my friends know they can talk about it (they even call me out on it when I don’t realize I am talking about it). Of course I keep my own bodily functions inside (pun), and always give a good bathroom freshening when I am done using (or abusing) it.

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And my Best Friend sent me this today, Aug 5, 2013. Just goes to show this blog is straight up legit… and so are my friends.

Bathroom humor has been around for ages. I’d like to think that bodily function jokes were one of the original “things” to ever laugh about. I mean, every living creature does it. Hell, dogs get to do it in public. Why is it okay for a dog to pee in public, but humans can’t find relief in a dark alley in an emergency situation? Totally not fair.

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Another beauty sent to me this past week. Ahhh My friends know me so well!

Whenever I go to a concert I visit is the toilet immediately. I grab extra toilet paper to ensure a semi-hygenic visit at the end of the show. Whether or not I use the portable bathrooms or the cleaner environment of the woods or parking lot, I am wiping with a clean piece of tissue. If you are “Shit out of Luck”, you can always take a piece of paper, crumple the hell out of it to make it soft, and use that for wiping.

You might be wondering why I am talking about all this nasty stuff (that’s totally natural, by the way). Well, Captain Clam and I just purchased a ridiculous amount of sushi and I threw it all up. By “all of it,” I mean, ALL of it. A total waste on my part, but maybe it was bad? The Clam feels great, but he’s a clam and used to seafood. Clams will eat anything! So, we really have no idea.

Anyway, back to poop.

What do you do when you can’t poop? Captain Clam believes in coffee and cigarettes, but gives me prunes, which I love, but I have grown an immunity to them. It’s all rather tragic. My secret is to relax the muscles and jog in place a little bit. That somehow does the trick 99% of the time.The other 1% I just cry and bloat and eat a bunch of fruit.

I recently purchased a huge box of Epsom Salts, because I love to take baths and ran out of my fancy Israeli bath salts (not the hallucinogenic kind that turn you into a flesh eating zombie). I was reading the box for all of the amazing things you can use Epsom Salts for, and apparently you can make an elixir for constipation. How wonderful!

On a  side note, I recently cut the shit out of my finger whilst “fixing” then fan. I took an Epsom Salts bath a few days later, and within 24 hours the cut on my finger was significantly healed. I was balls-out completely amazed, so I took another bath with comparable results. This mineral bath is the shit! Yay!

Back to fun, gross stuff.

Did you know that asparagus is really good for your urinary tract? It actually makes your pee smell, but that means it’s working! Beets are good for your liver and will actually turn your pee red! In most cases, I’d be freaked, but it’s normal to experience multi colored urine while under the influence of specific vegetables. Fruits also help with certain male functions… All I’m gonna say is, “Gentlemen, eat pineapples.”

There are lots of gross things. Like, cleaning your feet and toes. I could sit here for hours and pick the cuticles from my toenails since I am too broke to get a pedicure (well, not with the Clam working full time recently, the first thing I am going to do is get my feet did!). There are things that we women do to our bodies that we can’t even talk about (well, I can!).

Seriously, when is the last time you cleaned your belly button?

And when was the last time you talked about your body with a good friend? You’d be surprised at how much fun it could be, or what you can discover about the human apparatus. Sometimes you can mention one little thing, and BOOM, you have discovered that you are actually sick and maybe on the road to some sort of disease (goodness gracious, I hope not!). I know talking about poop and other stuff might make it hard to be the self righteous and “Proper” people who belong to humanity, but just get over it. We all fart. We all shit.  We all pee and we certainly all get sick. My grandmother died of breast cancer because it used to be “taboo” to talk about such things. I mourn her everyday. What a loss to the world! And what a ridiculous life for my Grandma Sophie to live! You should NEVER be ashamed of yourself, especially in sickness.

And sometimes, we’ll shit all over ourselves. If you have never shit your pants, then you are not even human. We have all done it and surely remember it. Even in a thong. Yup, I went there.

There is no shame in being human.

Dear friends. I love you, and you know this. Take care of yourselves and mind your poo. Talk about it. Pay attention. Most people only notice their poo when it’s not moving. Well, get some Epson Salts and get your shit together (um, literally). And for goodness sake, clean your belly button and behind your ears. Seriously, when is the last time you even thought to do so? Do it for me and you and Captain Clam.

PS. Happy Birthday Linda.

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