Wednesday, January 03, 2007

I POOP AT WORK

Alright. I have heard from a number of people (peculiarly, all male) who have stated their great joy, even elation at pooping during work hours. There is just something about getting paid while you do your business.

Now, it goes against my entire girl nature to poop anywhere but in the safety of my own bathroom but I am not one gifted with inhuman sphincter control and when I need to go, the need, though not IMMEDIATE, is strong enough to convince me to take my chances where I squat.

It goes without saying that I spend a majority of my work poopage praying that I not fart, or, if I do, that it silently slips from its shadowy home. My coworkers DO NOT need to know what I'm doing mere feet from their cubes.

Rarely in these excursions am I overly concerned about smell. No, girl poop is not a desired aroma but it's really never been overwhelming enough to cause serious consideration for the health of others. That was until what eeped out of me today.

Holy God was that wretched.

I don't know about you, but while I don't find my smell a pleasant experience, it is still MY smell and thus something that is far more tolerable than, say, anyone else's smell.

You know it's bad when YOU are sitting there wondering what the hell died.

And then it struck me. This shit is going to CLING! And not only is it going to CLING! to my clothing, thus revealing my hidden(ish) secret to the ever penetrating senses of my coworkers, but it's going to invade my very pores and eminate from my body in wave upon wave of peevish funk. Legions of coworkers were to lay dead at my feet.

To be totally honest, it aired out rather quickly upon flushing but DAMN. I still am curious what the hell I ate.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

For future excursions in this manner please remember the ever polite Splash and Flush method for public displays of elimination. The technique is as follows, as soon as you hear a splash you flush. Thus helping to quickly clear the air and to mask any manly sounds (i.e. farts). You may end up flashing several times but you can always blame it on the plumbing and say the handle is stuck and play dumb (or coy - whatever strikes your fancy).

This has been a public service announcement. You are welcome.

Anonymous said...

Sometimes other people have the same thoughts I do, but express them in a much better way. Ergo:

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