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Women's Toliet Adventures

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Women's Toliet Adventures

Post by Tanzanite/Cindy on Mon Sep 14, 2009 5:57 am

WOMEN'S TOILET ADVENTURES :-)

Warning:
if your mindset is Victorian, prudish etc. and toilet humor/humour is
'not your thing' don't read this. But women's toilets were mostly
architectured/built by males, and every man should know some of the
problems associated therewith...

*************

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, 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 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 rest rooms/toilets (rest???
you've GOT to be kidding!!). 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
gal can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under
the door.










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