bjbowers
Cathlete
A Visit to the Ladies Room
>
> 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 b ut 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 on 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 small er 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 t don't KNOW what
> kind of diseases you could get."
>
> By this time, th e 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 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 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 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!!
Brandi
>
> 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 b ut 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 on 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 small er 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 t don't KNOW what
> kind of diseases you could get."
>
> By this time, th e 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 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 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 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!!
Brandi
