We'll get back to your regular grumpy holiday blogging tomorrow, today? It's poo time.

I understand that popular notion of waiting until you get to the office to take your morning dump. The toilet is clean (except that you pooped in it yesterday morning and our cleaning people only come on the weekends), you're at work so you're getting paid to relieve yourself of the giant load of crap you're hauling around in your intestines, and there's the added bonus of subjecting your coworkers to the smell of death wafting from your rectum.

What's that you say? You've never contemplated the third one? Ah! Then you obviously don't work in my office.

See, most offices have restrooms for men and restrooms for women and they aren't located, say, in the middle of the space. At my job? We only have one bathroom downstairs and one bathroom upstairs and both of them are within a (two year old's) stone's throw of each and every desk. Which means each and every person. Which mostly means ME. (Obviously.)

Every morning, most of my coworkers choose to wait until they get to work to take their morning poo. I've ranted about this before, but I feel the need to do it again, because I just got knocked in the face with POO SMELL.

Here's the thing, boys. It's disgusting. I don't care who you are, your shit does, in fact, STINK. We also have several different kinds of poopers in the office.

The "I Have a Lot of Gas and I'm Going to Force You to Listen to It, But Then We're All Going to Have to Pretend That Didn't Happen" Pooper: I hate to tell you this, but having to listen to you relieve your bowels every morning is really not inspiring any more respect for your cause here at work. If you feel like it's going to be a gassy one? Please poop at home.

The "I Just Rocked a Big Deuce and I'm Going to Leave the Door Wide Open and Never Bother to Use the Air Freshener so Thoughtfully Provided for Me" Pooper: If I never have to smell your crap again, it will be far too soon. Please subject your wife to this, she took vows. I didn't. That doorway is in direct path to my desk. For the love of all that is orange, please close the door at least a little and feel free to use that fancy little bottle of Febreez (which, actually, now just smells like poop to me anyway...but at least it's slightly prettier poop than whatever roadkill you've been consuming).

The "Close the Door All the Way and Trap the Smell in the Bathroom" Pooper: While I'm generally okay with you trying to be considerate about the smell, all you're doing is making it worse when I realize that I have to pee. Which is inevitably about five minutes after you've expelled the large quantity of meat you ate for dinner last night right into the work toilet we all share.

The "I Work Upstairs, but I Don't Want to Smell my Own Poop While I'm Working" Pooper: Seriously, POOP IN YOUR OWN BATHROOM. I'm already dealing with a lot of poop down here, I don't need you adding to it. If you get the urge, just as you come downstairs? I feel sure that you can hold onto that log until you get back upstairs to your own space. I usually manage to hold mine ALL DAY. Hell, I barely even pee at the office any more if I can help it.

So, this is to you, dear Office Poopers. Please, please, please...KEEP YOUR POOP IN YOUR OWN TOILET. If you're so regular that you can plan your poop for every morning right as you get to work? Please schedule that poop with your intestines just a little bit earlier. You know, when you're at home. I'll talk to the boss about counting that time as work, so you can get paid. It's not like you're doing anything useful in the bathroom for that half hour anyway.

**In case you didn't notice (seriously, what's wrong with you?), I changed the layout on my blog. What do you think?**