Monday, June 29, 2009

Must study for my test tomorrow!

Whilst I study to become a more impressive numbers guy, here is a little tale from Lil Deb!!


(By the way, today I bought a tape recorder for Grandpa. You know, like the ones from the 70's that we used to plop down in front of the radio to record our favorite songs! Anyway, I hope to have many more tales from the farm on the way......)

Back to Lil Deb.....She forwarded this email, and I laughed for a good three minutes. See, I have been one of those "Hold my purse, watch the door, get me some toilet paper friends on the outside (just don't ask how....)!

When you have to visit a public bathroom, 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 stall doors. Every stall 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 wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern '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 drape 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.'

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles 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.'

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 sayin g, 'Honey, if you had 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. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. 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 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 on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the
TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. 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, eve n if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be=2 0utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain 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, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks 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 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 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 restroom. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is your purse hanging around your neck?'

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (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 questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your
purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

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

Send this to all women that need a good laugh AND, don't forget to have a mammogram!!!!!! It could save your life! (As a side note here, Lil Deb and our Dear friend N from Bemidji explained the mammogram process of making a boob into a pancake to me on our trip.....Guys, yes, I know you are reading, if your gal goes and gets a mammogram, either you make supper with a good wine, or you get a nice take out and make cocktails. No joke! She went through a lot, does not feel like going out, and deserves to be treated well for the evening. Oh, and if you really care (and you damn well better really care...) you will draw her a nice bubble bath to combine with her first cocktail so she can relax before supper. Send the kids to Grandparents or friends or the in-laws for the night, and treat her like a princess. Tell her she is the most attractive woman to ever walk the earth, tell her you Love Her, and tell her you want her around for a very long time. And just so you know, THIS IS NOT OPTIONAL!!!)

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...
Hard to Find
Supportive
Comfortable
Always Lifts You Up
Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!

6 comments:

Jason, as himself June 29, 2009 at 6:48 PM  

It is just too damn hard being a woman.

T June 30, 2009 at 4:09 AM  

Too damn funny! And very, very true!

Great post - thank you for the chuckle!

BellaDella June 30, 2009 at 7:39 AM  

Lil Deb definitely needs a blog. So funny and unfortunately so darn true.

ab June 30, 2009 at 8:45 AM  

I too have been forced to use the gum wrapper in the purse. Being a chick sucks sometimes.

thevinylvillage June 30, 2009 at 10:47 AM  

I
Am
Dying!

makes my pee-shyness at urinals seem like a walk in the park

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