Besides, the location of my new workplace doesn't allow me the luxury of going home at lunchtime to drop off a load.

Around 10 AM on my second day on the job, the experimental "green pepper soup" my wife served for dinner the night before was angrily knocking on my back door. This fecal mass wasn't going to stay put until the end of the day... or even the end of the hour, for that matter.

I headed for the men's room. It was a basic three stall/two urinal/three sink setup. Upon entering, I experienced that happy sensation that I always get when I find an empty bathroom. I jumped into the last stall, furthest from the bathroom entrance.

Just as I began to let loose, someone walked in and entered the stall right next to me! I couldn't hold back; my turds hit the water, and I farted a few times. This guy next to me didn't make a sound. And for the next two minutes, we both sat there in total silence -- not a sniffle, not a cough, NOTHING. I felt very uncomfortable as I stared down at his shoes, wondering who he was. Here we were -- two total strangers literally less then three feet apart, both with our asses out, and both scared to make a move.

And then, to add to the horror, in walked Contestant Number 3. He jumped into the last available stall and shamelessly started to shit up a storm. I guess ten o'clock is shit time at this company.

Number 3 let off a real stink bomb. Either his wife is a worse cook then mine, or this guy had barbequed skunk for dinner the night before. I was becoming more and more claustrophobic as the awful stench from his bowels hovered throughout the room. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, and I cursed myself for getting into this situation. I then calmed myself down and vowed to ride it out until everyone left.

The clown next to me started fumbling with the toilet paper. At that point I truly began to believe that release from my cold stinky holding cell was near. I, too, grabbed a wad of TP, anxiously ready to remove the gooey itchy shit that was drying around my asshole.

And then I heard a strange sound. It's hard to describe, but this guy next to me was making a rubbing sound with the toilet paper -- sort of a fast polishing motion. It was freaking me out -- was he buffing his bunghole? My heart leaped as he quickly jumped out of the stall, did a three-second hand wash and bolted out the door. Ten seconds later Number 3 emerged from his stall, and as he washed his hands, I was in Heaven, since I finally got to wipe my own poopchute.

As soon as Number 3 left the bathroom, I quickly got out of the stall before anyone new entered. I took about two minutes to wash up, giving plenty of time for my two anonymous shitting buddies to get as far away as possible by the time I made my exit. I spent the rest of the day looking at the shoes of my co-workers. I believe I now know who the Bunghole Buffer may be. But unless he farts next to me, Contestant Number 3 will forever remain a mystery.

I am yet to be Shameless at work, but at least I am shitting at work.