A visit to the ladies restroom

Auntbiz

>
>> > Subject: A Visit To The Ladies Room
>> >
>> >
>> >>
>> >> 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 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 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 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 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 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!!
>> >> ________________________________
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