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Do you use toilet seat covers?

  • Male - Yes, I do

    Votes: 27 30.7%
  • Male - Yes, but only if the seat is really disgusting

    Votes: 5 5.7%
  • Male - No, I just always wipe it down

    Votes: 18 20.5%
  • Male - No, I just wipe it down if it really bad

    Votes: 24 27.3%
  • Male - No, I just plop down. I'm awesome

    Votes: 7 8.0%
  • Female - Yes, I do

    Votes: 1 1.1%
  • Female - Yes, but only if the seat is really disgusting

    Votes: 3 3.4%
  • Female - No, I just always wipe it down

    Votes: 1 1.1%
  • Female - No, I just wipe it down if it really bad

    Votes: 1 1.1%
  • Female - No, I just plop down. I'm secretly a man.

    Votes: 0 0.0%

  • Total voters
    88
No real reason to use them as the toilets at work are clean for the most part, but for "just because" reasons, I use them. Heck I'll stack 3-4 of them before I plop on down.

Now toilet seat covers did double duty for me last weekend at Outside Lands Festivals. No tissue, but plenty of seat covers. Badabing. Badaboom.
 
I must be incredibly talented then, cause I don't lift the seat, nor do I spray or sprinkle. I believe in leaving the place at least as clean as it was before I got there. So basically I leave it the same, cause I don't touch anything. I also passed this on by teaching the fine art to my daughter. :cool:

Especially for you redwarrior:) - my sister emailed this to me a while back.

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 them, 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 heavens sake, even if you didn't wipe or wash your hands in the restroom, 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.

You hold it until that first credit rolls and you sprint to the restroom, about ready to explode all over your internal organs. And at the restroom, 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. Every one is occupied. You hope no one is doing frivolous things behind those stall doors, like blowing their nose or checking the contents of their 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. But 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 just wipe your hands with 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."

As you emerge, you see your spouse, who has entered, used and exited his restroom 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.
 
^

Hm... no matter the subject or the setting, it always seems "couples" and "dates" have an innate spite and irritable tendencies for their partner.

Always seems like they're in a relationship because they don't have a choice. Or that they wanted that butt-chinned guy they just saw in the film but settled for whatever wandered by.

Sad world, that so many would just settle. Then again, you're only using whoever's using you ^.^
 
I have a super phobia of public restrooms.... hehe. I would probably rather run into a store, buy some diapers and take a crap in that then go in a public bathroom. Unless of course, it's really nice, like at a fancy restaurant. I just think in my head "a few days ago, someone could have vomited all over this. Now my ass is touching it."
 
RULE 1: Always use an ass gasket.
RULE 1A: If no ass gasket is available, make one out of toilet paper.
RULE 1B: If no toilet paper is available.. hold & move on
 
Funny pool :)

Im a male and If i gota use a public toilet for big number 2 then i try to find a clean toilet or at least decent one .. If the toilet is way to dirty and disgusting then i try to find another .

The stance btw craked me up .. great laugh .. good for me im not a woman :)
 
I've never came across toilet seat covers in the UK but I think they're a great idea.

I pad the toilet seat with toilet paper all around (effectively making my own toilet seat cover) whether it's clean or dirty.
 
LOL, The Stance was awesome! Thanks for the laughs.

I'm a guy and usually just judge the seat but I always wipe it first, just in case. The funny thing is that unless the seat has something on it it's usually cleaner than your kitchen counters. That said, I never touch the edges of the seat if someone didn't put it back down (happens a lot in the men's room) or the handle if there is one. That's what my shoes are for.
 
RULE 1: Always use an ass gasket.
RULE 1A: If no ass gasket is available, make one out of toilet paper.
RULE 1B: If no toilet paper is available.. hold & move on

Rule 1C: If no toilet paper, use hand towels from sink
Rule 1D: If no paper or makeshift covering products, cringe and sit on the seat.

Students in high school and college treat public bathrooms like one time use places. Piss and paper everywhere, poop on the underside of the seat, TP with poop stuffed in the back by the flush handle.
 
I was in ORD (Chicago Airport) last month on my way to Buffalo and the toilets in the B & C Concourses had these automatic seat cover thingies. As soon as you entered, the flashing red light noticed you and this plasticy, ruffly little seat cover thingie moved around the rim. It was sort of weird sitting on it, but it was sort of nice as airports are busy places.

As a male I'll hover for # 2 rather than wipe the seat. I try and touch as little as possible though.
 
Geez-o!

Why are we all so hyper about germs nowdays? Hasn't anyone had to use a good old fashioned outhouse? (The wooden ones, not the modern plastic kind)

Look, you're sitting on the seat with the BACKSIDES OF YOUR LEGS. This area of the body isn't particularly prone to infection. Yes, your other body parts are nearby but not on or even really close to the seat!
(Guys, you probably have to be more careful than we do)

I wipe out of force-of-habit.
Why?
Because of all the mess left by the Hoverers! :eek:

Yes, I can hover and do when it's gross beyond wiping.
But it's gross and inconsiderate. Why not just stand up and befoul the entire apparatus?

A great quote I heard recently:
"The more pure the diet, the more diseased the mind."
This probably applies to Germophobia as well.

Have Fun,
Keri, the non-Germophobic

PS. A far more useful waste of your time would be to wash hands carefully afterward, then wipe dry and open the door with the paper, then discard. The door handle is far nastier than the seat, and your hands will likely touch your food, eyes or mouth.
 
Something is dearly wrong with this generation of parents.

They pamper their little ninnies like a shell-less hard boiled egg.

Congratulations! You've made your child defenseless against a single bacterium and they're autistic!

1) If your kid doesn't get sick, they're going to get deathly ill.

2) If you don't turn off the F/king TV once in a F/king year and take a single minute of your day to acknowledge their existence your kid is going to be a socially-incapable recluse, labeled as autism by dimwit "doctors" these days.

But I guess it's better they never learn to speak. God forbid you should ever have to TALK with your child!
 
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