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It's a woman thing


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Sue and I received this in our e-mail last night from a friend of ours. I know it's really aimed at you girls but it made me laugh, so fellas - bear with me and enjoy it.






When you have to visit a public toilet, 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 cubicle doors. Every


cubicle is occupied.




Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman


leaving the cubicle.




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 Mum,


no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook,


if there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your






(Mum would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!) down with


your pants and assume ' The Stance.




In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake.




You'd love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to


lay toilet paper on it, 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, 'Dear, if you had


tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet






Your thighs shake more.




You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the


one that's still in your bag (the bag around your neck, that now you


have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time).




That would have to do, so you crumple it in the puffiest way possible.


It's still smaller than your thumbnail.




Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.




The door hits your bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of


your chest and you and your bag topple backward against the tank of the






'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your


precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, while losing


your footing altogether and sliding down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.




It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too






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






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 and spraying a fine mist of water that


covers your bum and runs down your legs and into your shoes.




The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and 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 sweet wrapper you found in your pocket and then


slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.




You can't figure out how to operate the taps 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 toilet. Annoyed, he asks,




'What took you so long and why is your bag hanging around your neck?




This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public rest


rooms/toilets (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!).




It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long.




It also answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to


the toilets in pairs.




It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you


Kleenex under the door.




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














Send this to all women that need a good laugh.




A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...




Hard to Find












Always Lifts You Up




Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging




And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!



:D :D :-)

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