"don't give up when you still have something to give. nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying. live strong now" - agm
<style></style>we've all been there!
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. [font='comic sans ms'] finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the women leaving the stall.
[font='comic sans ms'] 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, someone broke it- so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, never on the [color=#3366ff][color=#3366ff]floor!), yank down your pants, and assume 'the stance.'[font=geneva][font=geneva]
[font='comic sans ms'] 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.'
[font='comic sans ms'] 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 think, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have [color=#3366ff][color=#3366ff]known there was no toilet paper!' your thighs shake more.
[font='comic sans ms'] 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 would have to do. you crumple it in the puffiest way possible. it's still smaller than your thumbnail.
[font=comic sans ms][font='comic sans ms'] 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 , lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the [color=#3366ff][color=#3366ff]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. [font=g eneva][font='g eneva']
[font='comic sans ms'] 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.
[font='comic sans ms'][font='comic sans ms'] at this point, you give up. you're soaked by the 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 wash, dry and walk past the line of women still waiting,(feeling really terrible.) if there are no paper towels, you just drip dry. [font=geneva][font=geneva]
[font='comic sans ms'] 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 [color=#3366ff][color=#3366ff]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.'
[font='comic sans ms'] as you exit, you spot your hubby, or sons, who have long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. annoyed, they ask, 'what took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?'
[font='comic sans ms'] 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!
[font='comic sans ms']this had to be written by a woman! no one else could describe it so accurately!
send this to anyone that needs a good laugh
a friend is like a good bra...
hard to find
always lifts you up
never lets you down or leaves you hanging
and is always close to your heart!!!
Oct 4, '07
Quote from GoldenLove
Haha absolutely and then throw in having your 4 year old in the stall with ya trying to crawl under the door! LMAO Have a great week y'all
Or a 6 and 5 yo girls in the stall with you while you try to change your pad without them seeing since they don't know about periods yet and the 6 year old is valiantly trying to keep the 5 yo from prematurely opening the stall door until a kindergarten age fight breaks out.
Then you quickly roll up the old pad and throw it in the little garbage bin. That distracts the 5 yo from the door and she is now sticking her hands in the little garbage bin. :uhoh21:
Finally, it's time for handwashing. You spend more time blurting out phrases like "don't touch the inside of the sink", "don't touch the big garbage can", "don't turn off the faucet with your bare hands, let me do it with a paper towel"... Upon realizing the bathroom does not have any paper towels, you have the girls dry their hands off on your jeans and you turn off the faucet with your elbow. Then you open the bathroom door with your rear end (the push kind of handle) while lecturing about the icky properties of a bathroom doorhandle.
Last edit by grace90 on Oct 4, '07