Lazy Link Saturday
So many things, so little time - LOL
Miss Cellania has her very own domain now! If you haven’t visited her you should. Just go to the bathroom first, but not a public one (see joke below) because she has so much funny stuff you will laugh so hard you’ll wet yourself - LOL
Lumpy is back! Another “Must See Blog-ie”
And finally, a little jok-ie for everyone - Hope all of you have a fabulous weekend!
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 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 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 will 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. You lose your balance and slide down, directly onto the insidious toilet seat. You bolt up quickly; knowing 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 out a stream of water akin to a firehose, then suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged off to China.
At that point, you give up. The splashing water soaks you. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket, then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. The faucets with the automatic sensors refuse to acknowledge your presence and don’t come on. 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 shut, and hand you a Kleenex under the portal.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Miss Cellania has her very own domain now! If you haven’t visited her you should. Just go to the bathroom first, but not a public one (see joke below) because she has so much funny stuff you will laugh so hard you’ll wet yourself - LOL
- - - - - - - - - - -
Lumpy is back! Another “Must See Blog-ie”
- - - - - - - - - - -
And finally, a little jok-ie for everyone - Hope all of you have a fabulous weekend!
- - - - - - - - - - -
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 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 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 will 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. You lose your balance and slide down, directly onto the insidious toilet seat. You bolt up quickly; knowing 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 out a stream of water akin to a firehose, then suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged off to China.
At that point, you give up. The splashing water soaks you. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket, then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. The faucets with the automatic sensors refuse to acknowledge your presence and don’t come on. 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 shut, and hand you a Kleenex under the portal.
posted by Marti at 12:21 PM
19 Comments:
OH GOODNESS!! My wife must be your mother. I always thought that she was the only neurotic one. She actually caries alchol wipes for the dreaded public toilet. After reading that I feel very happy to be male.
The Lumpy
that story sounds all too familiar!! :)
Very funny, Marti.
Though I pee standing up, I live with four women and have to say I can at the very least "relate".
I'm linking this post of yours. It needs to be read because people need to smile.
Great post.
~michael
Makes me glad I live WAY out in the country, a long way from most public potties....although behind-the-bushes and burdock leaves rank right up there.
This is hugely laughable, kiddo. I pity you (but not that much).
Hi, I'm here by way of Smoke and Mirrors....true, funny and if we're all experiencing this, why hasn't someone come up with a better way??
Great post!
ROFL, Marti! Only I would have screamed for TP from the woman in the stall next to me and prayed she wasn't mean, a psycho or deaf.
The Stance is worst when one is drunk, camping and having to use the bushes.
Omg...I have never laughed so hard in all my life. I KNOW what you mean!!!! Thanks for giving a new meaning to having to go to the bathroom in a public place...you were right on...now I've pissed my pants from laughing...thanks, Marti. ;o)
HI superr blog! how did blogger kill your blog i have one there and i would hate to be killed plz tell me ty!
Good god, I've always had great pity for women having to stand in those long lines, but I had no idea of what you had to go through once you're in there. No wonder I see so many women doing squats with weights at the gym -- they're keeping in shape for "The Stance"!
Marti, Marti, Marti, it has come to this.
I see I will have to tell you that I, a non-Stancee, loathe and despise Stancers.
See, it's the Stancers that make more conditions that lead to more Stancers, thus more such conditions, and so on and so forth.
Me. I am a guy's gal, so I just set myself right down.
WTF, after all. It's a dirty business to begin with, so let's get it over with.
That said, the one thing in fine taste today on your site is, uh, your site. Beautiful colors. Trippy picture. Nice work. Redux, I think, is the spelling, but I'm guessing you know that, and the 'deux' is a play on words cause this is number two.
Oh. Did I say that?
I'm with Lisa, except I call them "hoverers". If no one hovered, then the people that followed wouldn't have to hover.
Also, I refuse to wait in those long lines if the men's room is empty. And sometimes when it's not. Like I haven't seen a penis before.
I really find the toilet issue funny. My mom always carry a pack of tissues with her but I havent seen her going to public toilets actually and also in some malls they have posh toilets that is for people who are willing to pay to have comforts similar at home
This reminds me of Elaine begging the next stall for 'just one square?"
Very amusing-
Kel
Hee hee! This is why we have a house rule (I have two daughters) GO before we leave the house!
Thanks for the PR, I appreciate that!
If nothing else, that question of why women insist on going in pairs has finally been answered.
...Only in hindsight (pardon the pun) can a woman find humor in having to take a stance.
You explained it so perfectly with every detail down to the purse around your neck (which I have done).
I thank you for telling men what really happens behind the closed lavratory doors.
deb
Hi Marti, I'm here via Stringman, just loved the post and have new respect for ladies and "the Stance" although there did seem to be a bit of anti-stance from a few.
Great post ,I'll be baachk.
Ha! I enjoyed the bathroom humor!
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