MEN SHOULD NOT MARRY THESE WOMEN

I did and she removed my left eye as well!

Men shouldn't marry wimmins who:

Make them go shopping with her;

Can't stand another day of nothing but TV sports;

Don't refill the car's empty gas tank leaving a surprise when he drives to work;

Hates the sound of his snoring all night long;

Hates it when he uses the last of the toilet paper bar and doesn't refill it;

Don't want to have sex when he's not in the mood.

BBB

Men should not marry wimmins who think they have a right to offer an opinion.

Poor doggie! we let them enjoy the sofa and watching TV.

What is a "TP"?

TP: toilet paper.

BBB

OK. So how do you "load" toilet paper?

Here's how:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toilet_paper

Some people load it so that the sheets "cascade" over the top of the roll, sometimes called the "waterfall" method. Others load it so that the sheets hang from behind the roll, the so-called "under" load.

At one time, about 30 years ago, this was a subject hotly debated in the advice columns of newspapers in the United States. It is one of those things which qualifies in divorce proceedings as what de Tocqueville meant when he said that it is the small matters which make men rebel. Only, in this case, it's the wimmins who get all pissed off.

Now I understand! 50 years ago or more, my father used to insist on what you call the "waterfall" method. When I say "insist", I mean he really used to get oddly angry if anybody put the roll in the other way around. My wife and I don't have a dispenser or roll holder or whatever you call it. We stand the roll on its end on top of the cistern behind the toilet.

Setanta, have you been reading my diary again?

One day, ooooo Tick-ick-icky-ickle Girl flew back…aaaah in time …Aghhh!
to the dinosaurs.

Boom! Boom! Boom! All of a sudden, she saw something white.
Uh, oh. It looked like a dinosaur. Oh, no. But it was not. Phew. It was… No.
It was a…No, no, no! It was a ghost dinosaur! Ahhhhghh!
But Tick-ick-icky-ickle Girl did not know it was a ghost. Boo! So, she took out her sword.

Huh… wait, Tick-ick-icky-ickle Girl doesn't have a sword, she just tickles. Let me show you. Look up in the sky. It's a bird. It's a plane. Lift up your arms,
It's Tickle Girl !

Okay, she tickles the ghost dinosaur, but she cannot catch it because it's a ghost.
So now, she takes out her ghost book and reads how to do it.
It appears that you have to say boo and tickle it!
. Aghhh! Oh, no. Ho ho ho. Ha ha ha. He he he!

I do this, the roll out of the dispenser, with the backpacker option. Unroll the roll from the inside by pulling the cardboard 'DerDer' completely out of the roll. A plume of sheets is pulled along with the 'DerDer' from the middle of the roll making it possible to dispence the TP from the inside.

Even bathroom 'fussbudgets' can use this technique by placing the roll in a frilly sack, but on the trail backpackers place the roll, unless they're flying commando, in an empty 1 pound coffee can with a plastic lid to keep meeces from building nests with precious TP.

Rap

There were a pair of advice columnists, widely published in American newspapers, Ann Landers and her identical twin sister Abby (not their real names). One wrote "Ask Ann Landers," and the other wrote "Dear Abby." At some point about 30 to 40 years ago, one of them, Ann Landers i believe, took up the cause of a correspondent who complained of people who were so crass as not to use the waterfall method. The battle was joined, and if what i read at the time was correct, both Ann Landers and Dear Abby got more mail on that subject than on any other that had been aired in their columns.

John Prine once dedicated a song to Dear Abby:

Dear Abby, Dear Abby ...
My feet are too long
My hair's falling out and my rights are all wrong
My friends they all tell me that I've no friends at all
Won't you write me a letter, Won't you give me a call
Signed Bewildered

Bewildered, Bewildered
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up Buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

Dear Abby, Dear Abby...
My fountain pen leaks
My wife hollers at me and my kids are all freaks
Every side I get up on is the wrong side of bed
If it weren't so expensive I'd wish I were dead
Signed Unhappy

Unhappy, Unhappy...
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up Buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

Dear Abby, Dear Abby...
You won't believe this
But my stomach makes noises whenever I kiss
My girlfriend tells me It's all in my head
But my stomach tells me to write you instead
Signed Noise-maker

Noise-maker, Noise-maker
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up Buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

Dear Abby, Dear Abby...
Well I never thought
That me and my girlfriend would ever get caught
We were sitting in the back seat just shooting the breeze
With her hair up in curlers and her pants to her knees
Signed Just Married

Just Married, Just Married
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up Buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

I remember this debate and sided with the hemisphereists.
In the northern hemisphere- overshot, in the southern -undershot.

But the most practical answer I ever heard was the cat person/dog person argument. Cat People are undershot, dog people it really doesn't matter. Undershot TP doesn't freely unload by spinning the roll, cats love to spin the roll.

Rap

That's verra interesting . . . i've never had cats because i'm allergic. I can imagine a cat, though, sitting on the John Crapper, rolling off the paper, completely absorbed with fascination at the process.

Maybe they haven't experienced the new "thicker" variety of the softie kind. It sticks to itself and won't hang at all.

This thread started out as a satire of an idiotic thread started in the relationships desert earlier today.

But, apparently, the subject of TP, and how it should, or should not, be hung, holds more fascination for the crowd here.

It was settled when someone who's husband works in the manufacture of toilet paper noted that the design on TP is only right side up if you do the waterfall method.


Of course if you buy plain, you might have another itch to scratch.

Relationships come and go but defecation and the requirement to wipe off the smears that it leaves last forever. Incidentally, why do Americans have to initialise everything? Toilet paper becomes "TP", my American friend refers to the UK Home Office as "the HO" (Nobody else does.) He is having an "LDR" with a girl in Peru. Is it a symptom of a country, a people, a culture, racing along so fast it has not got the time to spell things out in full?