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Sunday, May 11, 2008

Saturday, December 23, 2006

  • Merry Christmas Everyone....a day early...almost.

    And...it's technically 3 days, 22 hours, and 30 minutes until I am 22. YAY!

    Me

Monday, December 04, 2006

  • Senioritis...

    Well.....it's Dec 4.

    I definitely feel like I am well into Christmas Break......so I'm pretty much a slacker these last two weeks. It may not be the most intelligent idea for professors to make big projects due weeks before the end of the semester, because after they are complete, there is no motivation to finish the remaining work. I feel awful for not turning in things to some of my professors, and I feels stupid to continually forget to turn in the sources for my other paper! It's ridiculous! I'm sure the points will be taken off for that. She's so nice. I have nice professors. THey just have a bad student--me.

    With that said....I think i'll survive the semester. I still have a million things to do in my last weeks before I am able to be a teacher. Yay.

     

    Erin

Friday, November 24, 2006

Monday, October 02, 2006

  • Currently Listening
    Awaken
    By Natalie Grant
    The Real Me
    see related

    MOST HILARIOUS WOMEN'S RESTROOM story :-)

    Women and Rest Rooms




    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 knock
    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 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. 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
    onto 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 that 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 firehose 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're 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.


    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 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.

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Thumbellina84

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    • Name: Erin
    • Country: United States
    • State: Texas
    • Metro: Houston
    • Birthday: 12/27/1984
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 4/20/2004

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