We have a mailing list in my office called "Comedy Central". It allows everyone with no sense of humor to opt out of the joke emails. Anyway, this was distributed by one of my female co-workers. Ladies, inquiring minds want to know. . .

This  is why it takes women forever to go to the bathroom...

Public  Toilets - Ladies, you'll LOVE this one!

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 wet down my leg. And we'd go home.

That  was a long time ago. Even now in our more mature years, The Stance is  excruciatingly difficult to maintain when one's bladder is especially full. When  you have to "go" in a public bathroom, you 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, also crossing their legs and smiling  politely. And you finally get closer

You  check for feet under the stall doors. Every one is occupied. 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 purse 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.

The  toilet paper dispenser is empty. Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny  tissue that you blew your nose on-that's in your purse. 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 purse whams  you in the head.

Occupied!"  you scream as you reach out for the door, dropping your tissue 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 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 man, 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.