Laughter is good medicine...

I live to laugh and laugh to live. As we all do, some emails we get are worth reading, but the ones I like the most are the ones that gives me a chuckle. That happened this morning and I think all "women" can relate to this. I want to share this with you. Sent to me by best friend, Paulette. Have been there, done that, almost.....


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 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 were 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 mom's voice saying, "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. 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 on the floor, lose your

footing altogether, and slide down directly on 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, even if you had taken time to try. You know your mother would be utterly 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 that somehow sucks

everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that point, you give up. You

are 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. Now, 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 into 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 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 gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door.

Good Luck!!!

Author- Who Knows?