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 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, toneless (God I should have gone to the gym!!!) 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 haveKNOWN 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 will 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 theTOILET SEAT.
It is wet of course.
You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Yourbare 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 nevertouched a public toilet
seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don'tKNOW 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 e-x-h-a-u-s-t-e-d.
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 youNEEDED 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!
Send this to all women that understand what bonding in the bathroom is
all about!
A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...
Hard to Find...
Supportive....
Comfortable...
Always Lifts You Up...
Never Lets You Down, or Leaves You Hanging,
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!
Share with anyone who needs a good laugh!
