Men, I am about to let you in on a very dirty secret, exclusive to women.
And women, I do this not to hurt you, but to shame you. Yes, you should be ashamed of yourselves.
Granted, I am a woman, and like many other ladies out there, have no need for shame in this instance, but am willing to take one for the team, if it could finally help fix this horrible mess …
The zoo … The pigpen … The molto-disgusto-sicko-yucko-grosso:
The women’s washrooms.
Now, most people use the toilet to go number 1 and number 2. Then, there are the women who use it go numbers 3, 4, and 5. I don’t exactly know what those numbers are, but they are not normal, and to an extent, frightening.
Have you ever been in a women’s washroom? Look, I know some men have forged into the nastiness. Admit it. I’ve heard your horror stories. I know you have flashbacks. But, this is a safe place, and free of excrement.
I will admit that I have been in a men’s washroom. Indeed, many of them.
For three reasons:
1. As a four-year-old, I felt compelled to wander into boys’ washrooms to see if all males did in fact sport peni. [See #23 in “25 things you NEVER wanted to know about me.”]
2. No line-ups. When a girl’s gotta go. A girl’s gotta go.
3. I am not properly equipped to pee standing up, which is essentially what I must do every time I use a women’s washroom, so as to avoid cleaning up someone else’s mess with toilet paper (if I can find any), or sometimes – accidentally – with my butt.
Now, I’m not just talking about restrooms at clubs, gas stations, or department stores (that claim to clean the filthy stalls hourly). I’m talking about the ones in corporate workplaces and high-end establishments too.
Yes, even the cleanest looking and most expensively dressed of the female of the species can be the worst culprits when it comes to washroom etiquette.
I have learned to check for toilet paper when I enter a stall, before semi-squatting without touching the toilet seat to pee, because I know there is often none to be found. That is not the bad part.
The bad part is when I call out to neighbouring stalls and ask for a little TP, and actually just get a big F-U in the form of an ignored request.
(Sometimes a toilet paper dress does seem quite practical.)
Oh sure, I would use the roll on the floor, were it not sitting in the indubitable moat surrounding the throne.
By the way, it is advisable to roll your pants up to your ankles before entering the john, or your pants may become pee-ants.
And I will never fathom how so many women can mess up a toilet seat. (Is this a territorial thing?)
But, amidst all these acts of grossness, the most difficult thing for me to understand is how often females fail to flush.
It is easy to do. Whether with your hand or your foot, simply push down on the little lever.
For crying out loud, even when I use an automatic flushing toilet, if it doesn’t flush before I exit, I do it manually.
Women, you are capable. All of you. Including the really stupid ones.
Of course the women’s washroom lines are always miles long. Between trying to find toilet paper, trying to clean the apparatus before using it, and finding a stall that is actually usable, a simple pee-trip turns into a huge pee-roblem.
Oddly enough, when in the privacy of their homes, I have found that more men’s bathrooms are the disgusting ones, while more women maintain theirs at a satisfactory sanitary level.
Do what you want in your own home (unless I’m coming over), but please, in the public lavatories respect others. Clean up after yourself. That includes flushing.
The only thing you pee-igs actually do flush down the toilet is our dignity. And we need it back.
So, to these women… these vile, loutish, uncouth, uncivilized, vomit-inducing sloths (yes I’m going through all the synonyms I can), you make me sick.
You are the pee driblets on a toilet seat. No. Worse. You are the grimy, non-descript wetness on the floor surrounding a toilet. No. Worse …
You are the yet to be defined numbers 3, 4, and 5.