The Potty Principle
You know the routine. When several couples get together at a restaurant it never fails. The females' biological clocks are all synchronized so potty time arrives for all of them at the same time. You couldn't get two out 200 guys to have to go at the same time, no matter what they'd been drinking.
One lady in the group will say, "Excuse me, but I have to go to the ladies room." Glancing at all the other girls, with eyebrows slightly raised as if to say, "Well, you coming or not?" the entire female clan rises and with purses in hand, head for the restroom. Before they return, a quarter of the males present will experience the beginning of male pattern baldness.
What keeps them that long, in of all places, a restroom? All we guys have to go on is what we see in the movies and on TV, and our own trips to the ladies room. The latter of these two happen only on an extremely rare occasion.
What takes so long is inventory. They have to check out what the others are wearing and what's in each other's purses. Coupons will be exchanged. The dieters will be asked to show off, followed by words of affirmation. Either that or a group hug followed by the exhortation to keep on trying. They'll try on each other's clothes. One of two of them will pull out a different pair of shoes to show the rest. There will be a makeup party where they all apply makeup to each other.
That's why these get togethers often involve trips to the emergency room for one or more of the males. Guys rarely are ready for a reveal from Extreme Makeover Bathroom Group Edition when they take a girl out. They get a bad case of whiplash, doing a swiftly intense double take when their date returns. Or else, when they're alone in the car again, he gets wacked on the back of the head with her purse for looking too closely at one of the other females.
One lady in the group will say, "Excuse me, but I have to go to the ladies room." Glancing at all the other girls, with eyebrows slightly raised as if to say, "Well, you coming or not?" the entire female clan rises and with purses in hand, head for the restroom. Before they return, a quarter of the males present will experience the beginning of male pattern baldness.
What keeps them that long, in of all places, a restroom? All we guys have to go on is what we see in the movies and on TV, and our own trips to the ladies room. The latter of these two happen only on an extremely rare occasion.
What takes so long is inventory. They have to check out what the others are wearing and what's in each other's purses. Coupons will be exchanged. The dieters will be asked to show off, followed by words of affirmation. Either that or a group hug followed by the exhortation to keep on trying. They'll try on each other's clothes. One of two of them will pull out a different pair of shoes to show the rest. There will be a makeup party where they all apply makeup to each other.
That's why these get togethers often involve trips to the emergency room for one or more of the males. Guys rarely are ready for a reveal from Extreme Makeover Bathroom Group Edition when they take a girl out. They get a bad case of whiplash, doing a swiftly intense double take when their date returns. Or else, when they're alone in the car again, he gets wacked on the back of the head with her purse for looking too closely at one of the other females.
Just one from the massive list of male faux pas.
Sometimes when the female exit-to-the-john happens, one girl stays behind. Gentlemen, be wary when this happens. She is known as the DH. The Designated Hearer. Her job is to record the conversation that transpires between the males, even to the point of participating in the mitigating conversations while the other females are out of earshot.
How does she manage to do this without taking notes? All women have a digital high-definition audio/video recorder stored somewhere within their bodies. They take it all in and it's immediately stored on some organic media for fast and accurate retrieval at the snap of a finger. To compliment this sophisticated system, they have a bazillion gigabytes of storage capacity. Elephants envy them.
When the others return, this information is passed on merely with expressions of the eyes, eyebrows and head movements. One will look quizzically at the DH, with head slightly tilted, eyes intent. The DH nods, her eyes rolling in the direction of the unsuspecting male. The questioner changes her expression. With eyes slightly closed in anger, one eyebrow arched to a point above the forehead and pursed lips being pushed to one side, her expression pleads, "Are you sure?" Once the affirmation is made, the others stare with their heads stretched forward on the stem of their necks. Mouths are either gaping or more politely covered with the fingers of one hand. Some poor sap is about to experience a double pain in the neck after this dinner party, if you catch my drift.
Gentlemen, if you find yourself with a bunch of guys at a table with one girl, who so conveniently stayed behind, just go monk. Observe the rule of silence until the ladies return. Your neck will be most appreciative.
Sometimes when the female exit-to-the-john happens, one girl stays behind. Gentlemen, be wary when this happens. She is known as the DH. The Designated Hearer. Her job is to record the conversation that transpires between the males, even to the point of participating in the mitigating conversations while the other females are out of earshot.
How does she manage to do this without taking notes? All women have a digital high-definition audio/video recorder stored somewhere within their bodies. They take it all in and it's immediately stored on some organic media for fast and accurate retrieval at the snap of a finger. To compliment this sophisticated system, they have a bazillion gigabytes of storage capacity. Elephants envy them.
When the others return, this information is passed on merely with expressions of the eyes, eyebrows and head movements. One will look quizzically at the DH, with head slightly tilted, eyes intent. The DH nods, her eyes rolling in the direction of the unsuspecting male. The questioner changes her expression. With eyes slightly closed in anger, one eyebrow arched to a point above the forehead and pursed lips being pushed to one side, her expression pleads, "Are you sure?" Once the affirmation is made, the others stare with their heads stretched forward on the stem of their necks. Mouths are either gaping or more politely covered with the fingers of one hand. Some poor sap is about to experience a double pain in the neck after this dinner party, if you catch my drift.
Gentlemen, if you find yourself with a bunch of guys at a table with one girl, who so conveniently stayed behind, just go monk. Observe the rule of silence until the ladies return. Your neck will be most appreciative.
© 2006 Michael Wicinski
posted by Michael Wicinski at 8:57 PM
6 Comments:
OK ladies, who blabbed?
LOL
HA! Close, but not quite. OK, here's the secret... We all go potty together so we can talk about YOU!
Eh, I suppose this post was fairly accurate. However, there are some of us gals out there that don't make the gang trip to the bathroom simply because we don't care for all that girlie-girl stuff, or our confidence determines there is no need for such an excursion. If I go to the bathroom, it's because I need to use the facilities.
I have just two words for you on this DH business... Paranoid much?
[heh]
I'm teasing, of course, because 9 times out of 10 you probably have good reason to go monk.
Michael - Sometimes there's a long line at the ladies room, we bring our friends along so we don't die of boredom while we wait. Also, you never know when you might need to have someone pass you some toilet paper under the stalls. I can only remember one instance of using the bathroom to talk about the guys. I found you via Marti.
What's better is just to have a farting contest to get her to leave the table.
Here via enter the laughter, although a fellow Tennessean
Chris
My Blog
Marti said to say Hi...... Hi.
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