Women's Restrooms
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 was 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 hole "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. (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. 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 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 empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point, you give up. You're now 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 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 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 go 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! |
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hahahahahahhahaha......that is the gospel truth!  |
| So true. |
| That's brilliant, might print this one out and hand it to the other half to read when I go to the rest room when we are out |
| If you think a ladies room is bad...
1) Don't go into any men's room and think you will sit down anywhere, anytime, even in the finest of establishments. Men's aim hasn't improved since potty training, there doesn't appear to be a road test required and at some age, we should consider revoking their licenses. 2) Fenway Park had "The Trough". I couldn't find a good picture of it, but Wrigley Field has or had one too: http://rotoauthority.blogs.com/photos/u ... urinal.gif I once had a boss that was so cheap on workspace. He designed a workspace for his group of highly paid professionals that I imagine resembled a pit of writhing naked bodies in terms of privacy. The desks were arranged in "pods" of 6. One table in the shape of a plus sign had four people working at it and one of the legs of the plus was extended where two more were seated. There were no walls, except a 10 inch barrier between workspaces; I suppose that eliminated the "Hey, you're in my space" squabbles. So you sat facing someone else, literally just the width of a desk apart and your computers were all in the center of the plus sign so you needed to turn to work on the computer. You desk space was really not much more than a return. He decided that this approach engendered close collaboration-I don't know about collaboration, but it did manage to shove a whole lot of people in a space. AUTHORS EMBELLISHMENT: I think he carried this a little too far when he decided that the Fenway Park approach was a good one for the men's room: not only did he implement The Trough, but he made it double sided to engender superior eye contact during your close collaboration session. |
| LMAO! |
 So true! |
OMG I laughed so hard at the lady that I had to stop reading a few times and I must say... been there , done that ... a time or two  |
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| Ron, I've heard about the troughs and the mirror trough--that idea was just plain nasty. I remember walking into a restroom and seeing this semicircular basin.....8 feet diameter along the wall. Had to walk back out and read the door for I immediately thought it was a trough and I was in the wrong room. It was a communal sink, little water sprays come out from a center pipe. I'm still not sure to this day someone didn't change signs.......... |
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