Women and Public Toilets!
Posted: Wed Sep 20, 2006 7:17 pm
From a friend in England.. Hope you enjoy as much as I did.
When you have to visit a public lavatory, you usually find a queue of women so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, check for feet under the doors. Every loo is occupied except one. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, you're bursting.
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's mum, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your handbag on the door hook if there were one, but there isn't - - so you carefully, but quickly, drape it around your neck, (Mum 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 mum's voice saying, "Darling, 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 from yesterday that you blew your nose on the one that's still in your handbag, that would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible thumbnail. Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your handbag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your handbag topple backward against the cistern 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 on the TOILET SEAT. It's wet - of course.
You bolt up knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat ("You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you can get") because - YOU NEVER LAID DOWN TOILET PAPER - not that there was any even if you had taken time to try.
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, that somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that point, you give up.
You are soaked from 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.
Now you can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensor 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 politely smile to them. A kind soul at the very end of the queue 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 into 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 lavatories. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your handbag hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who have to deal with public toilets. It finally explains to the men really why it does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked question, why we go to the loo in pairs. It's so the other can hold the door, hang onto your handbag and hand you Kleenex under the door.
When you have to visit a public lavatory, you usually find a queue of women so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, check for feet under the doors. Every loo is occupied except one. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, you're bursting.
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's mum, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your handbag on the door hook if there were one, but there isn't - - so you carefully, but quickly, drape it around your neck, (Mum 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 mum's voice saying, "Darling, 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 from yesterday that you blew your nose on the one that's still in your handbag, that would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible thumbnail. Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your handbag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your handbag topple backward against the cistern 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 on the TOILET SEAT. It's wet - of course.
You bolt up knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat ("You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you can get") because - YOU NEVER LAID DOWN TOILET PAPER - not that there was any even if you had taken time to try.
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, that somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that point, you give up.
You are soaked from 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.
Now you can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensor 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 politely smile to them. A kind soul at the very end of the queue 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 into 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 lavatories. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your handbag hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who have to deal with public toilets. It finally explains to the men really why it does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked question, why we go to the loo in pairs. It's so the other can hold the door, hang onto your handbag and hand you Kleenex under the door.
I wonder if we could figure out a way to screw that one up too.:wah: