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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By Definition, FUN!, Life, Uncategorized

Now You Know

I really hate Facebook games, but I have seen this one game going around, and I had no idea how to avoid it. And then it found me because I posted a comment and thought I was being funny… I was not funny, only trapped… so here goes, thanks, Mrs. Diming.

6 ransom facts that you never wanted to know about me.

1. I LOVE basketball. I love to watch it live or on TV (this includes high school teams, the WMBA, Your kids at a Brooklyn bball park, or people messing around on the street with a basketball (and Hoosiers, the best basketball movie ever). I know all of the rules, and am often tempted to steal a ball away from a kid in the streets and then yell at them for not protecting it. I saw a kid with a leather indoor basketball outside the bank the other day and almost lost my mind because he had no idea that it was for indoor use only. What Calamity!

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Throwin’ it back…

2. I am afraid of not being able to breathe (this includes choking, drowning, and suffocating). Please don’t ever put me in a headlock or put my head in a small space without being ready for the consequence of my wrath. I will kick and bite and scream until I am released… then I will never forgive you or trust you again.

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I also LOVE cats!

3. I am afraid of what’s under the water. I had a few incidents when I was younger where I was forced to boogie board at Seaside Heights and was totally wiped out and destroyed by my board and the ocean. Another time I was bit by a crab at Jamesport Beach. I need to see the bottom of any body of water if I am going to go in above my knees. I did go into the Long Island Sound this summer, and faced me fears by going in up to my neck and (gasp) under the water… then saw a school of minnows and was Audi 5000.

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To jump or not to jump…

4. I look terrible in hats. I look like a little boy who didn’t make the little league team. No matter what hat I wear, I look silly.

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Hats are not flattering…

5. I am a quiet conspiracy theorist. I don’t think that Elvis is dead, but the real Paul McCartney is. FOX News should be called FAUX News, and no one should ever believe everything (or anything) that they are told.

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mockumentary my ass…

6. I will always believe that my dad is the strongest person on this planet.

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My dad is awesome!

Well, there you have it. There are lots more things that I could share, but this is what my brain pulled together on short notice. What else would you like to know?

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Uncategorized

Sick Day

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If only I were this cute yesterday…

Leave it to me to get sick on the first 80 degree day in October. I have been sick all week, but yesterday I was too sick to even move, let alone go to work. I texted my work pal at 7am telling her how broken I was. I then drifted off to sleep until 8 when I called and let work know that it was official. I’m sick… like, legitimately.

Now, I should have known I was getting sick by all of the awful nightmares I have been having. I attributed them to the new mattress that Captain Clam surprised me with on Monday. I thought that maybe since I was sleeping well and not having to wake up every 3 hours to add air to the bed that my dreams were just catching up with an uninterrupted sleep cycle. I also attributed the very early 7:30 pm bed-times to the new mattress. Basically I have lived in bed since we got it. I am either extremely excited to have the new mattress or I am really stinkin’ sick.

I took a sick day. I wanted to take 2, but unfortunately I am still in my 90 day trial period and I simply don’t get paid days off yet (I don’t even get paid holidays yet (whaaa)). As it were, I woke up from my third nightmare where I had a beard tattoo growing up my neck and onto my chin. It was red and blue. In my dream all I could think was “This must be a dream. Why would I do this?” Thankfully, it was and I woke up in horror.

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John Henry Fuseli’s “The Nightmare”. I named that little demon on top “influenza”. How poetic.

One of my dreams was a very vivid kidnap dream with crazy amounts of violence.  The dream was incredibly gory. However, I didn’t wake up scared or full of adrenaline, but I was really kind of thinking “What the Fuck” when a high school friend tried to manually tie my tubes with a kitchen knife.

Somewhere along the way there was a dream about a monster hunting retreat you could sign up for. The hunting grounds were on an old estate that was littered with old vehicles full of supplies and weapons. You were allowed to bring your hunting dogs with you, but they were liable to turn on you at any given point in the “game”.  After the first week, all the participants who were left standing were invited to a “ball” where they were given a night off from the monsters. The monsters ranged from Dinosaurs to zombies. Sounds like an awesome video game about nothing to me (I could make MILLIONS!).

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I googled “zombie monster” and this is what I got.

There are a few more fever dreams (like the one with all the road kill bears), but those are the strangest. After my encounter with them, I was certainly not ready to face a day that needed to be started at 6am. When I finally rolled out of bed at 10:30 (I don’t even sleep that late on weekends! Gosh I am getting old), I had a small spark of ambition since I figured it was a “day off”. Oh my, how wrong I was! I am realizing that most of the sick days I used at my previous job were mostly “mental health” days, and that my current sick day was just that… a sick day.

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That’s what a sick clam looks like.

I was completely unable to function at all yesterday. I was inspired to write this blog post and finish a few others that I have neglected for far too long (remember 6 Word Stories?) I even thought that a walk to the park would help me, maybe a little sunshine would dry out my face, or maybe I could sweep and mop and do laundry and toilet train the kitties on this glorious day filled with sneezing and coughing and all kinds of other things you need toilet paper for. And there’s the kicker. We didn’t have any toilet paper.

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An excellent pun.

But at least we had internet.

I spent most of the day on Netflix, Facebook and watching cat videos (HERE is a link the the greatest thing in the world as of yesterday). I also spent a ridiculous amount of time on www.landandfarm.com looking for the perfect homestead in Maine for me and My Captain. I did find a few doozies and gladly shared them with Le Clam when he got home from work last night. What we have discovered about Maine is that no one has ever cracked open an Architectural Digest and that you can never have enough pine in your life. Wall paper is a different story.

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I LOVE PINE!

Despite my inability to move but admiration for the thought of being motivated, I was able to do the dishes, tidy up the apartment, put some laundry away (which consisted of me putting most of it back into the laundry bin or directly into the garbage), make the deliciously comfortable NEW and exciting bed ( yes, I am counting that, even though I laid down most of the day, but ON TOP of the covers), shower (it was more like a bath with the shower on), and make myself something to eat (and by “make myself something to eat” I mean I made Ramen Noodles (strangely, Mr T. Was climbing into the bowl trying to get at them. She’s such a frat girl!)).

The moral of my story is that sick days when you are truly sick (like pieces of your lungs are coming out of your mouth) are meant to be spent in bed being cuddled by furry animals watching bad tv and eating soup. At a certain point it hurts to even think about doing anything else (like bathing). It’s okay to be sick and to take a day to heal. I only wish I had taken a second day to finish the beginning of recovery before heading all snot nosed back to the office. And it’s okay to be sick of soup, since now that is all you are allowed to eat (according to every mom’s advice). It’s only for a week or so!

 

Sorry if this post totally sucked. I am still so sick and can’t even see straight, but I love  you for making it this far through the bungling ramble of my words. My next post will be awesome. I promise (all you Wizard of Oz Fans out there).

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Bucket List, Things to Do, Uncategorized

That Good Old “To Do” List

I recently saw a good old friend; the kind of friend who I hadn’t seen for over a year, but, as we always do, we were able to just pick up where we left off in this shit show that is “life.” It seems that we are both going through some hard times. Her hard times are a lot harder than mine and yet she is still making the extreme effort to help pick me up from the dirt and mud and shit. Gotta love those good old friends (and we do).

When I lost my job 2.5 months ago, I was devastated. I still am, sadly. It wasn’t even a job I liked. It kept me up at night and kept me in bed in the mornings with the dread of a thousand panic attacks. But it was a job. It wasn’t that unemployment check that you hope gets directly deposited each Wednesday without any hiccups (and trust me, with this unemployment system, there are some serious fuck ups…. but I digress. That is a blog post for another day).

Before my last day at my crappy job for the worst person I have EVER met, I used my last week to think about a lot of stuff. I got a tax ID for a business, printed a bunch of resumes, organized my work computer, and made myself a to-do list (among other things). It’s on a hot pink extra large post it note.

After visiting with my old friend, I literally rummaged through a closet to find this tiny scrap of paper. I read it now and laugh at how hopeful I was. I do remember feeling like unemployment would be like a summer vacation. Unfortunately, it’s not. And being just above broke during the summer in New York City really depresses the shit out of even the most hopeful of optimists.

So… Without further anticipation, since I know you want to know what I was thinking 2.5 months ago….

Below is the list. I have added commentary for your enjoyment because I love you.

Truly.

To Do

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Eben

That’s my Captain Clam. He’s the love of my life, so naturally I’d “do” him. No more information is necessary.

Visit the Girls

I have friends scattered throughout the world. Two of my faves are Westerly. One in Austin, TX and the other in Los Angeles, CA. I am dying to see them and miss them terribly. I send them snail mails with small tokens of my affection, like seeds and giant erasers. No one ever writes back. They have real jobs and are busy.

Climb a Hill

I’ve gotten fat and need the exercise. Plus, I want to see the top of the world.

Fly a Kite

Fun. Enough said.

Um, Make a Kite

See above.

Bake

Captain Clam bakes. But it’s too hot this summer, so I think this one will wait until the fall.

Photograph at Least 10 Strangers

This is my favorite to-do item. I have been inspired by my bravery 2.5 months go and have been out taking photos. I have yet to photograph anyone with their permission, but I am working up to it and am starting a beautiful project that will no doubt make me famous and adored by all. No. I’m kidding. It will just make me happy. This project will have the shit blogged out of itself, so stay tuned.

Remove Mustache

Seriously ladies, we all have one. Unfortunately,  I am too broke for threading these days. BUT I did get a tan and the sun has bleached it and I am happy enough with the results. Mustache removal is up there with baking…. waiting until autumn.

Start a Business

Unemployment forbids it. They want to make you suffer for being an entrepreneur. Corporate America is a curse on Humanity. This one will have to wait. Sorry, etsy.com.

Get out of Town

Self explanatory. Who wants  to host me and Captain Clam? And who want to cat-sit?!

Sing Karaoke

Well, duh, what better way to ward off stress. And seriously, I got me some pipes. No joke.

Yoga 4x Weekly

Ha! yeah right.

Spring Clean

I actually did this one. The great purge of 2013. Was simultaneously rewarding and sad. Sigh*

Sing in the Subway —> Start a Band

Two dreams joined together by an arrow on my small, hot pink post-it. This dream will come true one day. For now, it stays on the hot pink post-it. But I am up for collaboration, so BRING IT.

Sunbathe Topless on the Roof

Yeah, maybe in about 30 pounds! Yikes. I still might do this soon, so cover your eyes!

Haircut

Did that, but I think I need another one. Waiting for fall again! I’ll learn to bake and remove my mustache at the same time. woohoo!

Toenails

Not even sure what this means. Probably a pedicure. Yeah… too broke for all that, but I definitely purchased polish, so perhaps I will ask Captain Clam to hone his painting skills this week.

Ice Cream Cone

Yum. What a goal.

Win Lotto 

Does a $2 scratch off count? I won my money back!

Volunteer

I have done extensive job searches and have even inquired to jobs that I am not qualified for to see if the need volunteers. No answer. Assholes.

So, on the back of the paper, It seems I scribbled some wine induced “to-do” items. They are as follows:

Kiss butterfly

Pet sheep

Tie-Dye Blanket or Socks.

Yeah. Those would all be nice.

So here it is. I am sure to add to this list and am trying to not feel pathetic.

Job loss is so depressing. It’s hard to get up and shower and get dressed. I haven’t worn make-up in at least a month. It’s like a bad break up. But life goes on. Oh Blah Dee Oh Blah Dah.  Blah being the key word.

So here I am… bored out of my fucking face and yet completely inspired by my good old friend and a little piece of hot pink paper. It’s all clear to me now. I will be okay.

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