--- In [email protected], "Ellen"
<[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>
> Deprecating comments from people who live hundreds or thousands of
> miles away that I wouldn't recognize if I tripped over them don't
> affect me much, no.
>
> --- In [email protected], "maxshenk"
> <brianmargo67@> wrote:
> >
> > Well, you've survived this chat so far, so I'd say you're pretty
> much
> > bulletproof.
> >
> >
> > --- In [email protected], "Ellen"
> > <ellengoodman6@> wrote:
> > >
> > > well I've survived this long without any major health problems,
> so
> > I
> > > 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"
> > > <muellerdana@> 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.
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > >
> > > > > > ---------------------------------
> > > > > > How low will we go? Check out Yahoo! Messenger�s low
PC-
> to-
> > > > Phone
> > > > > call rates.
> > > > > >
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> > > > (and
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> > > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > >
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