: 'It's Been Awhile' by Staind (which on Launch Yahoo! actually has all the language intact; never realised I was hearing an edited version on the radio)
: Intrigued
Got these in my e-mail this morning and thought I'd post them. Thankfully, my mother was not like that in the first one. (My ex was, which is kind of funny, when you consider all the stuff he did in public toilets). Thankfully, although I do have OCD, I am not this weird about public toilets, unless they are obviously dirty. But I'd say this fits most women at some point anyway...
My mother was a fanatic about public toilets. As a little girl, she'd bring me in 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 me to "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 to make contact with the toilet seat. By this time, I'd have wet down my legs. Then we'd go home.
That was a long time ago. Even now in our more mature years. "THE STANCE" is excruciatingly difficult to maintain when one's bladder is especially full. When you have to "GO" in a public bathroom, you find a line of women that makes you think there's a half-price sale on Meld Gibson's underwear in there. So, you wait and smile politely at all the other ladies, also crossing their legs and smiling politely. And you finally get closer. You check for feet under the stall doors. Every one is occupied. Finally, a stall door opens and you dash, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter. You hang your purse on the door hook, yank down your pants and assume "THE STANCE". Relief! More Relief! 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 and 8 on the Richter scale.
To take your mind off it, your reach for the toilet paper The toilet paper dispenser is empty. Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on that's in your purse. It would have to do. You crumble 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 and your purse whams you in the head. "Occupied" you scream as you reach out for the door, dropping your tissue in a puddle and falling backward, directly onto the toilet seat. You get up quickly, but it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with all the germs and life forms on the bare seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper, not that there was any, even if you had enough time to. And your mother would be utterly ashamed of you if she knew, because her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF DISEASES YOU COULD GET". And 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 and then it suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged to China. At that point, you give up. You're soaked by the splashing water. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a chicklet wrapper you found in your pocket, then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. Now you must do as Mother told you when you were a little girl "Get the paper towels before you wash your hands, as surely there is germs on the lever to get the towels, wash your hands, dry them , but take the towel with you so you can open the door without touching the germs that are surely on it." WELL! You can't figure out how to operate the sinks 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 unable to smile politely at this point. On kind soul at the very end of the line points out that you are trailing a piece of toilet paper on you shoe as long as the Mississippi River! You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and say warmly, "Here, you might need this." At this time, you see your spouse, who has entered, used and exited his bathroom and read a copy of War and Peace while waiting for you. "What took you so long?" he asks, annoyed. This is when you kick him sharply in the shin and go home.
This is dedicated to all women everywhere who have ever had to deal with public toilets, and it finally explains to all you men what takes us so long!
-and-
When a very proper retired lady and her husband began planning a week's camping vacation, she wrote to a campground for reservations. She wanted to make sure that the campground was fully equipped and modern, but couldn't bring herself to write the word "toilet"in her letter. She decided on the old-fashioned term "Bathroom Commode". Finally she decided on the abbreviation "B.C." and wrote, "Does your campground have its own "BC"?
When the campground owner got the letter he couldn't figure out what the woman meant by "B.C.". He showed the letter to several of the campers, one of whom suggested that the lady was obviously referring to a Baptist Church. So, he sent the lady this reply:
Dear Madam,
The B.C. is located nine miles from the campground in a beautiful grove of trees. I admit it is quite a distance if you are in the habit of going regularly. No doubt you will be pleased to know that it seats 350 people at one time and it is open on Tuesday, Thursday, & Sunday each week.
Some folks like to take their lunch and make a day of it, especially on Thursday when there is an organ accompaniment. The acoustics are very good, so everyone can hear even the quietest passages. It may interest you to know that my daughter met her husband there. We are also having a fund raiser to purchase new seats, as the old ones have holes in them.
Unfortunately my wife is ill and has not been able to attend regularly.
It's been six months since she last went. It pains her very much not to be able to go more often. As we grow older, it seems to be more of an effort, especially in cold weather.
Perhaps I could accompany you the first time you go, sit with you, and introduce you to all the other folks who will be here.
I look forward to your visit. We offer as very friendly campground. Be well, Be Happy, & God Bless!
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