Maryanne Posted February 7, 2007 Share Posted February 7, 2007 THIS IS A LITTLE LENGTHY BUT PLEASE READ TO THE END! > Subject: Public "Restrooms" > > When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of > women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, > you > check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. > > Finally, a door opens and you dash in. You get in to find the door won't > latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet > your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by > someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on > the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but > quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if > you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance." > > In this position your aging, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to > sit > down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet > paper on it, so you hold " The Stance." To take your mind off your > trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet > paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, > "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was > no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more. > > You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the > one > that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that > now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same > time). > That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's > still > smaller than your thumbnail. > > Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door > hits > your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and > you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. > "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, > tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing > altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of > course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare > bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the > uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there > was > any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be > utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom > never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't > KNOW what kind of diseases you could get." > > By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so > confused > that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the > inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt > and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks > everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper > dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point, you give up. > You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're > exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and > then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. > > You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic > sensors, > so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the > line of women, still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to > them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet > paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You > yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her > warmly, "Here, you just might need this." As you exit, you spot your > hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's restroom. > Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging > around your neck?" > > > This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms > (rest??? you've got! to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what > really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked > questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other > gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door! Maryanne > > > ============= Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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