pooping intern: real or fake?

Actually some papers have started hiring the homeless in a move to cut down on expenses.

 

First of all, there's no way this story would be true.

Second: I threw a bachelor party for one of my best friends, a hefty fellow, a couple years ago, and the night ended in a very ... disturbing manner. Drunk out of his mind, his fiancee picked him up from the bar and took him home. She returned a few minutes later to tell us he was our responsibility. "He's drunk and on the toilet," she said. "He's your problem now."

So three of us, the other of the two best men and a friend, looked at each other and, without any words, sprinted to a car. We raced to his house, a three-minute drive, and opened the front door. His shirt was laying in front of the front door, a few feet from his pants ... then his underwear. He walked into the bathroom a naked mess. The three of us, with camera phones in hand, walked to the bathroom, where he was perched on the toilet. But he didn't quite make it in time. ...

There was a noticeable brown mark on the floor, halfway to the toilet, and one on the wall -- about cheek level. We took our pictures of the ordeal, for our records, of course. It's OK, though. He blamed the cat. Then his fiancee sent me a picture of the 5-foot-8, 275-pound beast sleeping naked on the couch. It was a wonderful site.

 

They probably make great bloggers.

 

This is turning into the all-purpose worst public shit thread.

 

Oh, that was a private one. We just couldn't help but help embarrass the fool.

 

I don't work in a newsroom, and this place had more than just this office in the building, they took up one floor of 12. There was a medical insurance company, a dentist, a physical rehab office, a bank, etc.

 

And, just to make it clear, the restrooms were not located in the individual office suites. They were out in the publicly-accessible hallways, near the elevators.

 

One of my fraternity brother back in college got so drunk he shit himself in his sleep. The next morning I walked into the bathroom and was greeted by two things: him babbling to himself on the toilet in one of the stalls, and the worst smell I've ever encountered. I looked to my left at the pants he had been wearing that night were sitting open on the counter, with what could only be described as something that looked like a shovel full of mud sitting in them. Despite the laugh we all got out of it, we always wondered what else could have been, considering that his girlfriend at the time was an even bigger alcoholic than he was, and you know that if she had spent the night that night that he wouldn't have worn pants, ohh the possibilities.

 

One intern, no bowl.