Post by tia on Jun 24, 2007 20:48:01 GMT
When you need to visit a public loo there is invariably a line of women
>waiting, you smile politely and take your place in the line, it finally
>gets to your turn and you check for feet under the cubicle doors.
>
>Every cubicle is occupied.
>
>But eventually a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
>leaving the cubicle.
>
>You get in to find the door won¹t lock. It doesn't matter, the wait has
>been so long and you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the
>modern "seat covers" is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the
>door hook if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly
>drape it around your neck, yank down your pants and assume "the position".
>
>In this position your ageing, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake.
>You
>would 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 position".
>
>To take your mind off your trembling thighs for a moment you reach for the
>toilet paper dispenser and your worst nightmare it's empty, the toilet roll
>dispenser is empty. You hover looking around in the hope there's a new
>roll behind you - no such luck. Your thighs start to shake more. Then you
>remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one
>that¹s still in your handbag, which is now burning your neck & shoulders
>with the weight. So you contort your arm into a very unnatural position
>and start to fumble around in the deep dark depths of your handbag for that
>small crumpled used tissue no bigger than your thumbnail.
>
>Someone pushes your door cubicle door and because the latch doesn't work
>the door hits your head, which is bent forward from you holding your bag
>around your neck while you are rummaging for that used tissue, the door
>takes you by surprise and you start to lose your balance and topple
>backwards. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach to push the door shut and
>drop the precious, tiny, crumpled tissue you had only just managed to
>retrieve with your index finger into an 'unknown'
>puddle on the floor.
>
>If that isn't enough you lose your balance altogether, or just give up
>and... sit down ... directly onto the TOILET SEAT.
>
>Yes - it's wet! You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.
>
>Your thighs and bottom have made contact with every imaginable germ & life
>form that lives on the uncovered seat.
>
>By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused
>that it flushes, propelling a stream of cold water like a fire hose into
>the bowl which causes a spray of fine mist that completely covers your bum
>and runs downs your legs along with all the various life forms and down
>into your dishevelled pants which have now dropped to your ankles with your
>hems soaking up that puddle from the floor.
>
>The flush seems to suck 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 your self with a piece of
>gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to
>the sinks.
>
>You cannot figure out how to operate the tap, so run your hands underneath
>it grateful for the two drops of water there and around the basin itself.
>You go to the towel dispenser past the line of women still waiting, where
>of course there are no paper towels so you more onto the hand blower, which
>yes you've guessed it that doesn't work either!
>
>You're no longer able to smile politely to the women, but there's an
>unspoken understanding between you all.
>
>A kind soul at the very end of the line of women points out that you have a
>piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. Where was that when you
>NEEDED IT??? You yank the paper from your shoe, plonk 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. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your
>handbag hanging around your neck?"
>
>This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public loos. It also
>helps explain to the men why it really does take us women so long and it
>also answers that commonly asked question -why do women always go to the
>loos in pairs?
>
>It's so your friend can hold the door, hang onto your bag and pass you
some tissue.
>waiting, you smile politely and take your place in the line, it finally
>gets to your turn and you check for feet under the cubicle doors.
>
>Every cubicle is occupied.
>
>But eventually a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
>leaving the cubicle.
>
>You get in to find the door won¹t lock. It doesn't matter, the wait has
>been so long and you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the
>modern "seat covers" is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the
>door hook if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly
>drape it around your neck, yank down your pants and assume "the position".
>
>In this position your ageing, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake.
>You
>would 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 position".
>
>To take your mind off your trembling thighs for a moment you reach for the
>toilet paper dispenser and your worst nightmare it's empty, the toilet roll
>dispenser is empty. You hover looking around in the hope there's a new
>roll behind you - no such luck. Your thighs start to shake more. Then you
>remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one
>that¹s still in your handbag, which is now burning your neck & shoulders
>with the weight. So you contort your arm into a very unnatural position
>and start to fumble around in the deep dark depths of your handbag for that
>small crumpled used tissue no bigger than your thumbnail.
>
>Someone pushes your door cubicle door and because the latch doesn't work
>the door hits your head, which is bent forward from you holding your bag
>around your neck while you are rummaging for that used tissue, the door
>takes you by surprise and you start to lose your balance and topple
>backwards. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach to push the door shut and
>drop the precious, tiny, crumpled tissue you had only just managed to
>retrieve with your index finger into an 'unknown'
>puddle on the floor.
>
>If that isn't enough you lose your balance altogether, or just give up
>and... sit down ... directly onto the TOILET SEAT.
>
>Yes - it's wet! You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.
>
>Your thighs and bottom have made contact with every imaginable germ & life
>form that lives on the uncovered seat.
>
>By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused
>that it flushes, propelling a stream of cold water like a fire hose into
>the bowl which causes a spray of fine mist that completely covers your bum
>and runs downs your legs along with all the various life forms and down
>into your dishevelled pants which have now dropped to your ankles with your
>hems soaking up that puddle from the floor.
>
>The flush seems to suck 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 your self with a piece of
>gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to
>the sinks.
>
>You cannot figure out how to operate the tap, so run your hands underneath
>it grateful for the two drops of water there and around the basin itself.
>You go to the towel dispenser past the line of women still waiting, where
>of course there are no paper towels so you more onto the hand blower, which
>yes you've guessed it that doesn't work either!
>
>You're no longer able to smile politely to the women, but there's an
>unspoken understanding between you all.
>
>A kind soul at the very end of the line of women points out that you have a
>piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. Where was that when you
>NEEDED IT??? You yank the paper from your shoe, plonk 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. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your
>handbag hanging around your neck?"
>
>This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public loos. It also
>helps explain to the men why it really does take us women so long and it
>also answers that commonly asked question -why do women always go to the
>loos in pairs?
>
>It's so your friend can hold the door, hang onto your bag and pass you
some tissue.
