Sorry, no lady hear, but I do the toilet paper on the seat thing.
For The Ladies
Received this today and thought many a truth told here......
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 quickly, 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, 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 and hand you Kleenex under the door.
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 quickly, 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, 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 and hand you Kleenex under the door.
1 - 20 of 51 Posts
That is sooooo funny :haha:
Paramount said:Received this today and thought many a truth told here......
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 quickly, 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, 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 and hand you Kleenex under the door.
Ok other than the fact I was laughing so hard I almost peed my pants which is another problem in older age. LOL
I now realize why I have such a problem with public restrooms. I refuse to use them. I will keep my bladder full for many hours before using a public restroom and now that I printed this story up for my husband he now understands. Thank you for sharing this story, it was great. Heidi
I'm sorry, but good grief!!! "MOM" also, most likely didn't like SEX either!! 
LOL!!
Wipe the seat, sit down... (your thighs won't 'catch' anything!!) and get on with it.. AND IF you're one of the paranoid crowd... wipe AFTER you splatter all over the stall before the next lady comes in, who ISN'T!!!
:yeeha:
I am infuriated when I enter a toilet stall and it is all sprinkled!! Stupid.. Just plain STUPID!!! Not to mention nasty and trashy! The 'stance'... pft! :no:
LOL!!Wipe the seat, sit down... (your thighs won't 'catch' anything!!) and get on with it.. AND IF you're one of the paranoid crowd... wipe AFTER you splatter all over the stall before the next lady comes in, who ISN'T!!!
:yeeha:
I am infuriated when I enter a toilet stall and it is all sprinkled!! Stupid.. Just plain STUPID!!! Not to mention nasty and trashy! The 'stance'... pft! :no:
G
I've often seen dirty shoe prints on the seat....
I was going to post a link to the "Woman's guide to how to pee standing", but the link appears to have been bought out by a company which sells a directional device for same--the directions were for unassisted peeing.
I was going to post a link to the "Woman's guide to how to pee standing", but the link appears to have been bought out by a company which sells a directional device for same--the directions were for unassisted peeing.
It seems like those directional devices would pose another whole set of problems after you finished peeing. Instead of just washing your hands, you would also have to clean the "device" up.
G
Exactly--you could either rinse it in the sink--and have everyone stare at you, or they sold a "sanitizing spray" you could probably use while in the stall.
The original instructions involved practicing by aiming into a coffee can while standing in the shower, using your fingers to guide the flow.
What's that sign?
"My aim is to keep this bathroom clean--your aim will help!"
The original instructions involved practicing by aiming into a coffee can while standing in the shower, using your fingers to guide the flow.
What's that sign?
"My aim is to keep this bathroom clean--your aim will help!"
Recently, out of necessity, I used a crumpled up bank deposit slip in lieu of tissue. It was only moderately successful. :no:
www.freshette.com
I've seen these in hunting magazines called "The Jane' or something like that. Its a 'cup' for women with a spout, you can use by itself or with a tube and bag. But you still have to rinse it. but, if youre accustomd to washing your hands afterwards anyway.....and what women hasn't had to touch something nasty, be it from a small child or animal? I think I'd carry one if I was going some place I had to use those awfull porta johns. And yes, my mom was like that, passed down to my sis and me, and my dh has that "ick gene" as well...will drive half way across town to use the bathroom of a relative instead of one at the store.
I've seen these in hunting magazines called "The Jane' or something like that. Its a 'cup' for women with a spout, you can use by itself or with a tube and bag. But you still have to rinse it. but, if youre accustomd to washing your hands afterwards anyway.....and what women hasn't had to touch something nasty, be it from a small child or animal? I think I'd carry one if I was going some place I had to use those awfull porta johns. And yes, my mom was like that, passed down to my sis and me, and my dh has that "ick gene" as well...will drive half way across town to use the bathroom of a relative instead of one at the store.
Don't ya'll just yell from the stall, "Hey, someone pass me some TP?" Course ya gotta stick your hand out under the stall to let em know who needs it.... :haha:
almostthere said:www.freshette.com
I'm trying to figure out the gyrations needed to use that thing! .....and what if it spills? and how are you gonna hold it tight to ya, hold the tube away from ya, and keep your pants up at the same time? :haha:
G
Okay, found the link to the instructions, for those interested (the first few paragraphs talk about outhouses, so scroll down a bit....)
http://www.rrmatic.org/girls/back.html
http://www.rrmatic.org/girls/back.html
I'm trying to figure out the gyrations needed to use that thing! .....and what if it spills? and how are you gonna hold it tight to ya, hold the tube away from ya, and keep your pants up at the same time?
Its says its soft and pliable, I think. And the tube is attached, so you just have to extnd it, I guess it would take some getting used to, and try to remember to face down hill.
Its says its soft and pliable, I think. And the tube is attached, so you just have to extnd it, I guess it would take some getting used to, and try to remember to face down hill.
RAC said:Okay, found the link to the instructions, for those interested (the first few paragraphs talk about outhouses, so scroll down a bit...
******************************************************
Well, Y'all let me know if you figure out how to do THAT, because I don't think I'm going to try it!!!!!
From the website:
Directions:
STAND facing the toilet or with your back to the wind. Pull the extension tube outward from the spout until it locks. With your feet apart, move clothing aside enough to place the opening of the trough snugly against your body, relax and go while standing.
Directions:
STAND facing the toilet or with your back to the wind. Pull the extension tube outward from the spout until it locks. With your feet apart, move clothing aside enough to place the opening of the trough snugly against your body, relax and go while standing.
I noticed the price...$22.95.
Does this mean we finally know the value of the male appendage?
:haha:
Of course if you women would actually sit down, you wouldn't have all the sprinkled toilet seats and puddles on the floor. But nooooo-- you feel that you must squat and then you make a mess and then the next person will squat and more and more mess. Maybe it should be like over in Europe where it is just a hole in the floor.
Most women's rooms are messier than the guys!
Most women's rooms are messier than the guys!
Rose said:
I noticed the price...$22.95.
Does this mean we finally know the value of the male appendage?
:haha:
OH my goodness!!!! am cleaning coffee off my keyboard!!!
:haha: :haha: :haha:
Many of the sprinkles are from male children who must accompany their moms to the restroom because it's not safe for them in the men's room.
I agree ,however, that EVERYONE should clean up their own sprinkles.
I agree ,however, that EVERYONE should clean up their own sprinkles.
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