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Note: See other items on a list of Things I Do and Things I Don’t Do here: Cook Dinner, Watch TV, Make the Bed, Return Phone Calls

After the ceremonial belt-loosening and pant-dropping, I walk right in and I sit down for a pee. There are times, due to conditions far beyond my control, when I cannot perform this simple and sensible procedure. Thus begins my open letter to the women’s restroom users who do not believe in sitting:

Women, unite! This is what we were made to do in the restroom, sit down there, have a quick pee, freshen our faces, and return to the lines of battle. But, alas. This is too much for some of you out there. You marginalized sect of stubborn women. You stander-uppers. You who are too grossed out and dressed up, oh-my-god-ing when he leaves the seat up type women. I’m here to say I’ve had enough of you. You’re the problem with the entire women’s public restroom scenario.

I will not stand up when I pee publically, and neither should you. This would work out fine for all of us, were it not for insistence on doing the standing squat. The problem with this, ladies, is that you’re too busy (or lazy) to actually squat at all. You pretty much stand developing world-style over the toilet while fixing your hangnail or your hair.  And since you’re working with a vagina and a bunch of crumpled up labial lips down there instead of a straight shooting penis, you shoot your urinary goods over every inch of the stall in your I think I’m squatting, but I’m actually standing and also checking my iphone stance. Satisfied that your high-faluting rear end is free from any parasites that were germinating on that putrid toilet seat, you pull your stockings from your armpits and strut out, leaving the stall desecrated, dripping with your juice, marked like a hydrant from hip to toes.

You, ma’am, are the reason the rest of us cannot sit down. If you would subscribe to the simple formula of sit, pee, flush, the public porcelain throne remains as clean as your queen’s seat at home, where do you, presumably, sit. Your bum, though I have not seen it, only what it can do, is surely not diamond studded. No more than mine. Let us, then, all sit our sparkly bums on the seat and put our pees in the bowl.

Regards, no, Best Regards,

Linda Anne Dennison

Visit her page to meet the collaborator of this post’s initial idea.