Diarrhea of the Brain

Just a regular day at the office, being professional and stuff.

I miss my coworkers. At first I was enjoying the peace and quiet, the lack of distraction, not having to explain that you can’t just “develop” AIDS because it is transmitted from person to person (this conversation really happened).

Without coworker next door, I can practice standing yoga poses while doing my work without getting hit with rubber bands. I can pick my nose. I can be a messy eater. Scratch my boob. Whatever I want.

But deep down, I miss my neighbor and my ill informed coworkers who didn’t pay attention in health class. I am not nearly as amused with these 8 hours without them.

I really have no problem with people sending me pictures of their impressive turds. In fact, I feel pretty good about being the type of person you might think of after taking a really awesome dump. Or the person you decide to call into the bathroom after you made a poop that looks like Stewie from Family Guy. Or the person you text a picture to when your shit looks like a flower.

No shame in poop. That’s been a message I’ve been trying to spread since my high school boyfriend declared “Girls don’t poop!” It was then that I took action to make him very aware of every time I had to move my bowels in an effort to desensitize him. It was very effective. Too effective perhaps as he became overly comfortable and began pooping with the bathroom door open.

The movement (pun intended) continued to grow as I would somehow become involved in conversation about bowel movements. It was an odd but effective ice breaker to talk about something so private so soon after meeting people. And I was amused by the transition people would go through during poop talks. Always uncomfortable at first but soon after, enthusiastically descriptive. This topic can open so many doors for a number of topics people are too shy to discuss. It’s nice to see people relax enough to converse freely without embarrassment.

I do have a confession to make- I may be able to discuss poo until the cows come home but when it comes to actually pooping, I have my quirks. I will go to great lengths to ensure my poop will not be heard, smelled or seen by another person. The latter is pretty easy since I control my bowels enough to not shit all over the place. But I have not been able to master the privacy of smell and sound. I will go to different floors of my building to find an empty bathroom, I will leave a party early and I will sit in discomfort until I can find a better place to poo. But rest assured I will gladly tell you all about it when I’m done.

THIS IS WHY I GOT STREP THROAT.

Throughout the day, one or all of these pens finds themselves in the clutches of my oral fixation. I don’t even know where they came from. Left behind by coworkers, picked up off the floor, behind the computer in the conference room. WHY WOULD I EVER PUT THESE IN MY MOUTH?!

I don’t even realize I’m doing it until a pen cap has been properly mangled and begins to splinter off in my mouth. The words “can I borrow a pen?” insight shame and embarrassment as I try to remove the pen cap before they notice. The number of items that were likely at one time on the floor before being absentmindedly gnawed on is astounding. It might be close to a miracle that it took 30 years of living to finally come in contact with Streptococcus.

Today my coworker dumped water on the spare chair in my cubicle. Instead of retaliating, I switched my puddle chair with his dry chair. It turns out that this was beneficial in preventing other coworkers from sitting in his cubicle, treating it as a break room.

So we decided to maintain a small puddle throughout the course of the day. We acted confused about its origin and chemical make up.

After a few hours the puddle evaporated a bit and was forgotten about until one coworker walked over and plopped down without looking. He was upset about appearing to have a leaky ass hole but overall I’d say this was a very productive day.