America, it's time to take a stand!

That's right, it's time to take a stand.

A stand against soft toilet seats.

I went to a friends house today, an older friend who has probably lived in this house for over 40 years. At one point I excused myself to go to the restroom and there it was, one of the things I dread most. A soft toilet seat.

I know, you'll say, "It's a matter of preference, Maria. Why do I need to take a stand?" I"ll tell you why, because they're gross god damnit. They're soft and squishy and warm. They're just plain wrong.

I brought this issue up with my husband. Actually, he just asked me if I was blogging and what about. I told him it was soft toilet seats and he said, "ewwww, I hate those." I said, "I know!"

Then I proceeded to offer up my analysis. I think this is what it does to me. 1. One of the good things about your rear end visiting a toilet seat (in my opinion) is the cold porcelin, plastic, whatever it is, hitting your derrier. It sends a message. It says, "no ass has been in this seat for some time and all germs that were here previously have died since the last ass was here." It's comforting, it lets you know that you're having a private moment. A soft seat is not cold. It's like someone was just there, comfortably sitting where you now sit. Invading your privacy. 2. It's squishy and soft which leads one to believe that it's porous. Porous meaning that it's holding germs. Germs from the previous ass that deigned to sit there. It's just gross. The seat is porous, my ass is porous - germs are just jetting to and fro willy nilly. I can't help it, I'm thinking it the entire time I'm sitting. I realize it's probably completely unreasonable which is why I don't hover. I hate the hover. I hate having to hold myself up and I hate the idea that there's a misconception that civilization will cease due to the transfer of ass germs. So I refuse to hover. Unless I'm in the most absolutely grossest of locations - but at a friends house, a hover is unnecessary - but I digress, I'll save it for another blog.

So I bring up these two points to Stu, my husband. His response was, "I didn't even realize they still made those." "Exactly!" was my response. I don't think they DO make soft toilet seats anymore. Which means that the toilet seat I set my dainty little ass on today is probably at LEAST 20 or 25 years old!! THAT means not only is this soft, squishy, porous toilet seat holding the ass germs of the previous (albeit most likely clean and non-hygeine challenged) person, but it's holding the ass germs of the previous 25 years!!!!!! EWW!!! It gives me the heebie jeebies. You probably have the heebie jeebies just reading this. I'm sorry - but I am making a call to action and the only way I can get you to listen is if I give you the heebie jeebies.
So take this as a clear message, next time you're at Aunt Ethel's or your parents lake house - take charge, take a stand, be firm and tell them, for the love of God and all humans with an ass, to remove that soft toilet seat. The life you save may be your own.

P.S. If you have a soft toilet seat I'm sorry. I won't call you out or throw you under the bus if I come to your house. It's just a matter of preference - but seriously, if you DO like them - explain yourself! Help me understand - perhaps it will make my squeamishness go away.

Or maybe I'll just put on Depends if I'm coming to your house.