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Womens toilet!
Topic Started: 22nd April 2008 - 06:28 AM (79 Views)
Nige
Member Avatar
Resident Carpenter

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. This HAD to be
written by a woman!


no one else could describe it so accurately
Location :- Hull

Never hit a man with glasses. Hit him with a baseball bat!

Don't let your mind wander - it's too little to be let out alone!
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