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Archiver > MEMORY-LANE > 2009-01 > 1230853707


From: "Jeane Dalrymple" <>
Subject: [ML] Fw: Women's Restroom - Hysterical... TOOOOOO FUNNY....
Date: Thu, 1 Jan 2009 17:48:27 -0600
References: <523460.36656.qm@web81602.mail.mud.yahoo.com>
In-Reply-To: <523460.36656.qm@web81602.mail.mud.yahoo.com>


---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Jeane Fuller Dalrymple <>
Date: Thu, Jan 1, 2009 at 5:09 PM
Subject: Fw: Women's Restroom - Hysterical... TOOOOOO FUNNY....
To: Jeane Dalrymple <>


I was still laughing as I typed to the e-mailees.... It has happened to
me....and probably to a few other of you ladies... and I know what it it to
have the husband standing in the hall outside the restrooms and tapping
his foot cause it took me too long.
Men just do not get it.. and usually the buildings are designed and built
by men... and they never include enough rest rooms for women..
Jeane D.


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*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 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, 'Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would
have KNOW N* *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 beca use 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 fin e 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.

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 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 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!
**

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so
accurately!

Send this to all women that need a good laugh AND, don't forget to have a
mammogram!!!!!! It could save your life!

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...
Hard to Find
Supportive
Comfortable
Always Lifts You Up
Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!

Share this with a friend* *.*

















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