Reader Response Forum
20/02/2010 02:13
Chamber Jumps Into Housing Fray
I see by a story in today’s Gazette that the local Chamber of Commerce is throwing their support behind the Habitat For Humanity project in Akinsdale.
Here is a link to the entire story entitled “Chamber supports housing proposal”, where Chamber chair Mike Howes is quoted as saying, “We just think it's a good thing. We need it. No matter where it goes it's going to receive some opposition.”
This is the second time the Chamber has waded into a housing issue in Akinsdale. A couple of years back it was to oppose the now nearly completed seniors residence on Arlington Drive at Hebert Road.
This time a reversal as they are supporting the bid to build the Habitat project over the objection of neighbourhood residents.
I always thought the role of a Chamber of Commerce concerned local business and their betterment.
Why they chose to enter the fray is beyond imagination. At best, all they will accomplish is to rile the residents of Akinsdale, whom the Chamber has obviously forgotten are among their member’s customers.
Might the only outcome for the Chamber be peed off customers who refuse to support Chamber members any longer over their involvement?
It just may be.
That thought has probably not yet occurred to the Chamber.
There’s A Reason Gals Take So Long In The John
This yarn was sent to us by a long time lady reader of SAP, who claims that this is sooo true, because she’s been there, done that. She is betting that it will have our lady readers rolling on the floor laughing and might just give our male readers some idea just why their better halves take so long to make a bathroom stop:
When you have to visit a public toilet, 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 cubicle doors. Every cubicle is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle. 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, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!)
Down with your pants and assume 'The Stance'. In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper on it, 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, 'Dear, 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 (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, so 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, while losing your footing altogether and sliding down directly onto the toilet 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 and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bottom and runs down your legs and into your shoes.
The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and 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 candy wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the taps 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, plonk 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 toilet. 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 any public rest rooms/toilets (rest? you've GOT to be kidding!!).
It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets in pairs. It's so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under the door.
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