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What Women Do in the Ladies Room.

You’ve seen women pile into the ladies room at bars and clubs, and you know you’ve wondered what it’s like on the inside. 

 Here’s a quick rundown for the clueless about what goes on in there.

 

We relieve ourselves. Yep, that’s right. Part of going to the toilet involves pulling down the old knickers and expelling some bodily substances down into the porcelain altar. You might call it taking a piss and women do too.

 

We debate Superman vs. Thor. Seriously, there’s nothing like touching up your lipstick and getting down to the Man of Steel versus the God of Thunder. We know that while some of us think that super strength and super speed make certain heroes inarguably superior, there will always be some hoochies that will get up in our faces—even while wer’e mid-stream, and remind us (whatever) about that time Thor lifted the World Serpant, and like that even matters.

 

We pick that wedgie and tuck in that bra strap. Women adjust their outfits. Short skirts are yanked down to better cover the poonanie. The binding chains of most outfits are pulled on and the skin is allowed to breath momentarily.

 

We play rock, paper scissors on who gets to be Dungeon Master during the next game of D&D. Since most women are well read on all the core books including the monster books, the duneon master guide the players handbook, and other such coolness, it’s really hard to watch some other skank create an adventure that we know we could’ve done better ourselves. You know?

 

We talk about you. That a-hole comment you made at the table. Why you’re such a tool and whether we should leave your ass. What we think of your outfit and how if you look at the Eagles game on the TV one more time above the bar, we’re going to shove our fist in your mouth.

 

We trade methods on how to use a remote desktop protocol to link our work computers to our home computers when we’re out sick, so that we can maintain maximum productivity when we’re not at work. What else?

 

We talk about that rude ho. You know the one—she either shot us a bitchy look or was rude serving our drinks. We make disparaging remarks about her behavior and then her outfit. You know the score.