figure if public restrooms haven't killed me yet they probably
won't. I think it is like not swimming after eating and all that.
Epidemics were more common back then.
--- In [email protected], "dvm8375"
<[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>
> My grandmother instilled the FEAR OF THE PUBLIC TOILET GERM in me
at
> 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
> <dlochund@> 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 <ellengoodman6@> 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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