[Rhodes22-list] Jokes

[Rik Sandberg]

John,

:-) :-) :-)..........That's a keeper. :-) :-)

Rik


At 09:04 AM 10/8/2002 -0400, you wrote:

>                                          The Stance
>
>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, "Never, never sit on a
>public toilet seat." And 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. But by this time, I'd have peed down my leg. And we'd
>go home.
>
>That was a long time ago. I've had lots of experience with public
>toilets since then, but I'm still not particularly fond of public
>toilets, especially those with powerful, red-eye sensors. Those
>toilets know when you want them to flush. They are psychic
>toilets. But I always confuse their psychic ability by following
>my mother's advice and assuming The Stance.
>
>The Stance is excruciatingly difficult to maintain when one's
>bladder is especially full. This is most likely to occur after
>watching a full-length feature film. During the movie pee, it is
>nearly impossible to hold The Stance. You know what I mean. You
>drink a two liter cup of Diet Coke, then sit still through a three-
>hour saga because, for heaven's sake, even if you didn't wipe or
>wash your hands in the bathroom, you'd still miss the pivotal part
>of the movie or the second scene, in which they flash the leading
>man's naked derriere. So, you cross your legs and you hold it. And
>you hold it until that first credit rolls and you sprint to the
>bathroom, about ready to explode all over your internal organs.
>And at the bathroom, you find a line of women that makes you think
>there's a half-price sale on Mel 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. Everyone is occupied.
>You hope no one is doing frivolous things behind those stall
>doors, like blowing her nose or checking the contents of her
>wallet. 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 handbag 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 an eight on the Richter scale. To take your
>mind off it, you reach for the toilet paper. Might as well be
>ready when you are done.
>
>The toilet paper dispenser is empty. Your thighs shake more. You
>remember the tiny napkin you wiped your fingers on after eating
>buttered popcorn. 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 pocketbook whams you in the head. "Occupied!" you scream
>as you reach out for the door, dropping your buttered popcorn
>napkin 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 finished peeing. 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.
>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. 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. 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 a public
>toilet.
>
>And it finally explains to all you men what takes us so long.
>
>
>John S. Roland  -  Senior Staff Engineer
>ENSCO Inc.  5400 Port Royal Road, Springfield VA 22151-2312
>voice; (703) 321-4614      fax; (703) 
>321-4609     roland.john@ensco.com    www.ensco.com
>
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