Jay Brd's Nest

My aunt sent this to me in an email and I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes!  Enjoy!

A women's lament...

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 knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!

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 was 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. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail .

Someone pushes your door open 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 theTOILET 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 fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this 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 in 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 restrooms (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 questions 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!

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately!

I'm sure I'm going to regret writing this.

Is it wrong of me to wish the BIGFOOT story is real? 

Do I believe it is? Unfortunately, no.  But wouldn't it be wicked awesome if it was true?

I have an open mind (not so opened that my brains fall out, I hope).  I believe in ghosts, UFO's, unicorns, fairies and dragons (OK! I made up the unicorn, fairy and dragon stuff...SUE ME)

We live on a vast planet with many undiscovered nooks and crannies.  If there are any Bigfoot(s?) (bigfeet?) around, I hope they keep themselves hidden...humans are kinda sucky.

A woman I know, a good friend since high school (she was also Maid of Honor at my wedding), recently became a living organ donor for a man at her church.

She donated a kidney on Tuesday of this week.  I always knew this woman was a good soul, but I was blown away that she would go above and beyond "being a good person" and cross into "AMAZING PERSON" status.

The question I pose to you is this:  Would you consider becoming a living donor? 

My 2 year old son enjoys taking care of his sister's baby dolls.  Especially the one who talks.  She says "Mommy, I want my bottle" and "Mommy I want to eat" and other "mommy" sayings.

I was wondering if there are any dolls that ask "Daddy" to feed them?

I don't have any issues with my son playing with baby dolls.  I think it shows a wonderful nuturing side that all people should have, not only girls.

What do you think?

(I should add that he also plays with cars, trucks, tools and other "boy" toys.) 

Eyebrows.  Honestly, I don't pay much attention to them most of the time. 

Everything is fine and normal until SUDDENLY one day I look in the mirror and Groucho Marx is looking back at me.

Scary.

Tomorrow, June 25, will be my one year blog-a-versary.  What a difference a year makes!

I remember coming to myfoxstl.com to check out the weather, and seeing the blogs tab.  If I wouldn't have clicked that tab, my life would be much different than it is today.

I know many people think it's "weird" or "lame" to meet up with people you met online, but I have made some really good friends through the blogs.  I no longer consider these people my "blogging friends" but just "friends".

I believe that everything happens for a reason.  The reason why I clicked that blogs tab is clear to me. 

Thanks, everyone, for a great year!

19 days until July 12th.

Does that date mean anything to anyone??

According to Wikipedia, Sour grapes is the false denial of desire for something sought but not acquired; to denigrate and feign disdain for that which one could not attain. This metaphor originated from the fable The Fox and the Grapes by Aesop, where the protagonist fox fails to reach some grapes hanging high up on a vine, retreats, and rationalizes that the grapes are probably unripe anyway.

More and more, I see grown people (aka "adults") doing the "sour grapes" routine.  They don't get what they want, so instead of cutting their losses, they whine, complain, lie, bad mouth and backstab the person/company that made them mad. 

Anyone else notice this? 

Do not cheat - go with the first dessert you picked.


If all of the desserts listed below were sitting in front of you, which would you choose (sorry, you can only pick one!). Pick your dessert, and then look to see what psychiatrists think about you.

Here are your 8 choices:

1.  Angel Food Cake


2. Brownies


3. Lemon Meringue


4.  White cake with chocolate icing


5.  Strawberry Short Cake

6. Chocolate Cake/chocolate icing


7. Ice Cream


8. Carrot Cake

I don't ask for much in life, but peace and quiet are toward the top of the list. 

When was the last time you sat in your yard without hearing non-natural sounds?  Airplanes, helicopters, motorcycles, super-loud cars, lawn mowers, weed eaters, leaf blowers (I really hate those), extremely loud car stereos, and--UGH---the ice cream trucks....I'm sure I could go on....but these things are constant in our lives. 

Some of you who live WAAAAY out in the country may not have to deal with many of these things, but most of us do. 

Sit in your yard for a while and listen to the noise pollution surrounding you.  Try identifying each sound.    Then try to block it out.  Good luck.

What a wonderful way to live.