Sunday, October 30, 2011

NOVEMBER ELECTIONS? Let's Just Laugh It Off!

Let's Just Laugh It Off!

No, no, I'm going to vote.  I always vote.  It's just that I've had it up to here with all the politicing.  On the TV, hanging on my door, in the ground at the corner.  BE SURE TO VOTE.  In the meanwhile, to help us cope, I am hereby declaring that ON MY BLOG, NOVEMBER IS JOKE-A-DAY MONTH. 
And, no!  I am not rooting for Warstler, Walker or Hill.  They are just representative of all the signs cluttering up our neighborhood.

I dedicate my first joke to all the lovely ladies, and they are all lovely!  I know.

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 wait has been so long you are about
to wet your pants!

The dispenser for the modern "seat covers",
 (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt),
is handy, but empty.

You'd hang your purse on the door hook, if there was 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!)

You yank down your pants and assume the stance!

In this position your aging, toneless,
 (God, I should have gone to the gym!!!)
thigh muscles begin to shake.
You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't
taken time to wipe the sea 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 dispenser.
In your mind, you can hear your mother'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.

Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now,
you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself
at the same time.

That will have to do.
You crumple it in the puffiest way possible.
  It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open 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 toilet tank.

"Occupied!" you scream,
as you reach for the door, dropping your
precious, tiny crumpled tissue into the puddle
on the floor, lose your footing altogether,
and slide down directly onto the
toilet seat!


You bolt up, knowing all too well
that's it too late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable
germ and life form on the uncovered seat
because you never laid down the toilet paper,
not that there was any,
even if you had taken time to try.

You know your Mother would be appalled if she knew,
 because, you're certain her bottom never touched
a 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
against the inside of the bowl
that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your
butt and runs down your legs into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force
that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser
in fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up...
You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.


You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket,
and 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 towell
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.
You yank the paper from your shoe,
plunk it in 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.

It finally explains to the men what really does take 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.

There you have it, friends, a funny-a-day for a month of election reruns,
 promises and begging for votes.

Except for the Friday Travel Special.
Next Friday, Hopi Indian Reservations.
Look for it!

Gotta a joke you'd like to share?  I'd love to hear it!
(Email address in my profile)

God bless you and Yours.


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