SHEELPA SHAH
2006-08-10 16:28:06 UTC
This* is priceless . . . and SSSOOO true!!!
*Word to the men... if you wonder why you get an ugly look from your woman
when you ask her what took so long, this should explain it.
(This is even worse when you're pregnant! Have a good laugh!!)
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, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
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 were 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, toneless 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 into yesterday - the one
that's still in your purse. That would have to do. You crumple it in the
puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes open your stall door 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 firehose 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 that 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 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 restroom
(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
question 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!!
*Word to the men... if you wonder why you get an ugly look from your woman
when you ask her what took so long, this should explain it.
(This is even worse when you're pregnant! Have a good laugh!!)
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, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
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 were 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, toneless 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 into yesterday - the one
that's still in your purse. That would have to do. You crumple it in the
puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes open your stall door 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 firehose 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 that 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 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 restroom
(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
question 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!!