crazyhorse
2nd October 2010, 17:52
When
you have to visit a public toilet, 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 cubicle doors. Every cubicle is
occupied.
Finally,
a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the
cubicle. 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 Mum, no doubt)
is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there was
one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum would turn
over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!)
down with your pants and assume ' The Stance.
In
this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love
to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper
on it, 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, 'Dear, 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 bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to hold up
trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do, so
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 bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest
and you and your bag 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, while losing your footing altogether and
sliding 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 and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs
down your legs and into your shoes.
The
flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and 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 sweet wrapper you found in your
pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the
sinks.
You
can't figure out how to operate the taps 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, plonk 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 toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is your bag
hanging around your neck?
This
is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public toilets. It
finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers
that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets in pairs.
It's so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you
Kleenex under the door.
you have to visit a public toilet, 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 cubicle doors. Every cubicle is
occupied.
Finally,
a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the
cubicle. 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 Mum, no doubt)
is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there was
one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum would turn
over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!)
down with your pants and assume ' The Stance.
In
this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love
to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper
on it, 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, 'Dear, 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 bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to hold up
trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do, so
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 bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest
and you and your bag 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, while losing your footing altogether and
sliding 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 and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs
down your legs and into your shoes.
The
flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and 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 sweet wrapper you found in your
pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the
sinks.
You
can't figure out how to operate the taps 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, plonk 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 toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is your bag
hanging around your neck?
This
is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public toilets. It
finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers
that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets in pairs.
It's so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you
Kleenex under the door.