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Author
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Topic: Women
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 02-11-2005 07:33 AM
Rated G ![[Smile]](smile.gif)
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!).
You yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance" Ahhhh, 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 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.
Have a nice day!! ![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 03-23-2005 10:25 AM
Rated G ![[Eek!]](eek.gif)
This morning on the Interstate,
I looked over to my
left and there was a
woman
in a brand new
Cadillac
doing 65 mph
with her face up next to her
rear view mirror
putting on her eyeliner.
I looked away
for a couple seconds
and when I looked back she was
halfway over in my lane,
still working on that makeup.
As a man,
I don't scare easily.
But she scared me so much;
I dropped
my electric shaver,
which knocked
the donut
out of my other hand.
In all the confusion of trying
to straighten out the car
using my knees against
the steering wheel,
it knocked
my cell phone
away from my ear
which fell
into the coffee
between my legs,
splashed,
and burned
Big Jim and the Twins,
ruined the damn phone,
soaked my trousers,
and disconnected an
important call.
Damn women drivers
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Gordon Bachlund
Jedi Master Film Handler
Posts: 696
From: Monrovia, CA, USA
Registered: Aug 1999
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posted 05-22-2015 10:04 PM
Rated PG...
A mature and well educated woman loved her veggie patch and particularly growing tomatoes, but couldn't seem to get her tomatoes to turn red.
One day, while taking a stroll, she came upon a gentleman neighbor who had the most beautiful garden full of huge bright red tomatoes. The woman asked the gentlemen, "What do you do to get your tomatoes so red?"
The gentlemen responded, "Well, I know this will sound strange, but twice a day I stand in front of my tomato garden naked in my trench coat and flash them. My tomatoes turn red from blushing so much. Somebody told me this and I don't know why but it seems to work."
Well, the woman thanked the man and as she walks away she thinks to herself this is absolutely ridiculous, but at the same time she is so impressed she decides to try doing the same thing to her tomato garden to see if it would work. So twice a day for two weeks she flashed her garden hoping for the best.
One day the gentleman was passing by and asked the woman, "By the way, how did you make out? Did your tomatoes turn red?"
"No", she replied, "but my cucumbers are enormous."
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Gordon Bachlund
Jedi Master Film Handler
Posts: 696
From: Monrovia, CA, USA
Registered: Aug 1999
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posted 06-02-2018 01:00 PM
Rated R.....
A woman walks into an accountant's office and tells him that she needs to file her taxes.
The accountant says, "Before we begin, I'll need to ask you a few questions." He gets her name, address, etc., and then asks, "What's your occupation?"
"I'm a prostitute," she says.
The accountant is somewhat taken aback and says, "Let's try to re-phrase that."
The woman says, "OK, I'm a high-end call girl."
"No, that still won't work. Try again."
They both think for a minute; then the woman says, "I'm an elite poultry farmer."
The accountant asks, "What does poultry farming have to do with being a prostitute?"
"Well, I raised a thousand cocks last year."
"Poultry farmer it is."
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