a very young age, and try as I might, I will never overcome it. I
can't even force myself to sit on a toilet at work, which I know is
very clean. However, what I find odd, is that I have no problem
sitting on a hotel toilet seat. Somehow that doesn't seem public to
me.
--- In [email protected], Diane Lochner
<[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>
> A friend forwarded it to me...so I have no idea who wrote it or
what the original source was. I remember my grandmother, I was
about nine or ten, instructing me in proper public toilet behavior.
To this day, the very first thing I do is check to see if there is
t.p. in the dispenser.
>
> Ellen <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: where did you get this from? I
personally was never instructed to use
> toilet seat covers and/or hover, so I haven't had the extent of
this
> experience, although lack of hook, lack of door lock, and lack of
> toilet paper, as well as automatic flushers and automatic sinks are
> constant irritations. I always thought the toilet seat cover
business
> was ridiculous--I don't think the part of your body that is
actually
> in contact with the toilet seat is the part with the germs.
>
>
> --- In [email protected], Diane Lochner
> <dlochund@> wrote:
> >
> > Prior Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Peeing !
> > Women's Trip to the Restroom
> > Is this true? I think it's just a cover up for why u all take so
> long! New & Revised 6 P's:
> > My mother was a fanatic about public bathrooms. When I was a
little
> > girl, she'd take me into the stall, teach me to wad up toilet
paper
> and
> > wipe the seat. Then, she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper
to
> cover
> > the seat. Finally, she'd instruct, "Never, NEVER sit on a public
> toilet
> > seat.
> > Then she'd demonstrate "The Stance," which consisted of
balancing over
> > the toilet in a sitting position without actually letting any
of your
> > flesh make contact with the toilet seat.
> > By this time, I'd have wet down my leg and we'd have to go home
to
> > change my clothes. That was a long time ago. Even now, in my
more
> > "mature years, The Stance" is excruciatingly difficult to
> > maintain, especially when one's bladder is full.
> > When you have to "go" in a public bathroom, you usually find a
line of
> > women that makes you think there's a half-price sale on Nelly's
> > underwear in there. So, you wait and smile politely at all the
other
> > ladies, who are also crossing their legs and smiling politely.
> > You get closer and check for feet under the stall doors. Every
one 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 dispenser for the new fangled "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 hang 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."
> > Ahhhh, relief. More relief. But then your thighs 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" as your
thighs
> > experience a quake that would register an eight on the Richter
> scale. To
> > take your mind off of 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 would have 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. That would
have to
> do.
> > You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller
than
> > your thumbnail.
> > Someone pushes open your stall door 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, and sliding down,
directly
> > onto the insidious toilet seat. 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 ashamed of you if
she knew,
> > because you're certain that 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, sending up a stream of water akin to a
> > fountain that suddenly sucks everything down with such force
that you
> > grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged
off to
> > China. At that point, you give up. You're soaked by the splashing
> water.
> > 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 a
line
> of
> > women, still waiting, cross-legged and, at this point, no longer
> able to
> > smile politely.
> > One kind soul at the very end of the line points out that you
are
> > trailing a piece of toilet paper on your shoe as long as the
> Mississippi
> > River! (Where was it when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper
from
> your
> > shoe, plunk it the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you
just
> > might need this."
> > As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has since entered, used and
> exited
> > the men's restroom and read a copy of War and Peace while
waiting for
> > you. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your
purse
> > hanging around your neck?"
> > This is dedicated to women everywhere who have ever had to deal
with a
> > public restroom (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 question about why women go to the
restroom
> > in pairs. It's so the other woman can hold the door, hold your
purse
> and
> > hand you Kleenex under the door.
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > ---------------------------------
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>
>
>
>
>
>
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