Thursday, June 29, 2006
Something interesting about women using public toilet =)
Something funny to share...
This story is somewhat similar to what I have heard over one month ago in church..but it relates to a guy pastor. Well..enjoy the story..
To all the women who have ever used public facilities
When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a lineof 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 womanleaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn'tmatter.
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone'sMom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on thedoor hook, if there were one, but there isn't - so you carefully butquickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave ifyou put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "TheStance."
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin toshake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe theseat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for whatyou discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.
In your mind, youcan hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to cleanthe seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighsshake 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 smaller than yourthumbnail.Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn'twork.
The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front ofyour chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank ofthe toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, droppingyour precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.
It iswet of course.You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your barebottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on theuncovered 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 publictoilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind ofdiseases you could get."By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is soconfused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a firehosethat somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab ontothe toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At thatpoint, you give up.
You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You'reexhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocketand then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure outhow 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 oftoilet paper trailing from your shoe. ( Where was that when you NEEDEDit??) 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, usedand 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 publicrestroom (rest??? you've got to be kidding!!). It finally explains tothe men what really does take us so long. It also answers their othercommonly 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
***************************************************************************** ¶ 8:44 AM
This story is somewhat similar to what I have heard over one month ago in church..but it relates to a guy pastor. Well..enjoy the story..
To all the women who have ever used public facilities
When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a lineof 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 womanleaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn'tmatter.
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone'sMom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on thedoor hook, if there were one, but there isn't - so you carefully butquickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave ifyou put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "TheStance."
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin toshake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe theseat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for whatyou discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.
In your mind, youcan hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to cleanthe seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighsshake 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 smaller than yourthumbnail.Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn'twork.
The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front ofyour chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank ofthe toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, droppingyour precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.
It iswet of course.You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your barebottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on theuncovered 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 publictoilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind ofdiseases you could get."By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is soconfused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a firehosethat somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab ontothe toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At thatpoint, you give up.
You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You'reexhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocketand then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure outhow 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 oftoilet paper trailing from your shoe. ( Where was that when you NEEDEDit??) 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, usedand 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 publicrestroom (rest??? you've got to be kidding!!). It finally explains tothe men what really does take us so long. It also answers their othercommonly 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
***************************************************************************** ¶ 8:44 AM
