This is a public service rant in an effort to promote domestic tranquillity.

I know most of you brothers out there have been subjected to one or more of the following nags. Hence these words of wisdom to help you and yer ol' ladies to achieve a level of détente regarding the restroom.

Why do you always have to say PISS? Because men piss, puppies piddle, ladies tinkle (some ladies tinkle like a cow standing on a flat rock, but we will discuss this in a different rant).

You never put the seat down. Ladies listen up. It is incumbent upon the gentleman to lift the seat before initiating micturition (that means taking a piss, for the polysyllabically challenged). The lady shows her appreciation for this consideration by putting the seat down without bitching. Ladies learn to operate the seat, it only has two positions, up or down. If I have to piss and the seat is down I lift it. If I have to dump and the seat is up, I put it down... NO BIG DEAL! After all, we could just piss in the washbasin.

Why do you always miss the bowl? Ladies, you tinkle from point-blank range, straight down from four inches above the target, consequently, you lack a true grasp of the intricate dynamics of male urination. We hunter/gatherer types are pissing through a smoothbore with no sights and lacking a predictable trajectory, consequently having to correct for range and windage in progress. We also piss from a greater altitude resulting in greater backsplash. In the mornings we often awaken with a blue steel stiffy. While we love you deeply, this particular woody is not for you. It is the result of a bladder about to bust. We can't point it down so now we are trying to hit a small target from the bathroom door (with our skivvies around our ankles), requiring (at the start) the trajectory of a three-inch mortar. This requires a great deal of skill. As the pressure drops a reduction in turgidity occurs and as P.S.I. wanes, so does range, forcing us to make constant adjustments to range and windage while moving (in a rather pathetic looking sort of hop/shuffle) toward the porcelain facility. Our only other alternative is to do a one-handed headstand and try not to piss up (down?) our own noses.

You never put a new roll of paper out. Gentlemen, we only think about toilet paper when we shit. Women think about it every time they go in the restroom! In fact they think about it almost as often as we think about sex! My wife, Dementia, sees a survival kit as a big bale of toilet paper. She can endure anything, withstand any hardship, as long as there is an abundant supply of "film for the brownie". I can not adequately express how important toilet paper is to women. Ladies listen up... we are much more likely to put a roll on the dispenser if it is close-by. Bros, if it is close-by, put it out.

Would it break your arm to use a toilet brush? Well brothers... they sort of got us by the shorts on this one. The crux of the biscuit, you see, is not the making of a mess, nor even the size of the mess, but the leaving of the mess. This nag is most often (and most stridently) heard following that most egregious of crepitatious events, the dreaded (drum-roll plays) "Power Dump". You know the one. You've been forced to hold your mud (for one reason or another) all freakin' day, you get home in time to kick the door open, get your britches down only to lose your grippers about two inches before the docking maneuver is complete. The awesome hydraulics of this event are of such an incredible magnitude that fully half the contents of the bowl erupt upward and outward in a spectacularly disastrous, sepia-toned brown geyser, while the rest is power siphoned down the tubes. The entire eliminative process is over in 3.4 nano-seconds, but the mop up operation can take another 45 minutes and several rolls of ass-wipe. The personal clean up time can be significantly reduced by slamming your thighs together and sliding forward on the seat. This will squeegee most of the sludge off your backside saving not just time, but also ass-wipe (toilet paper doesn't grow on trees). *Note: this does not work as well in public toilets with the open-front seat. Now comes the facility clean up. I have bros who just walk away knowing that the next person in line will clean up before putting their butt anywhere near the commode. Wrong move... this is when you employ the "brush and flush". Look, the facility does not have to be sterilized, just returned to its former level of cleanliness. This alone will generate, in yer ol'lady, a warm muzzy feeling of gratitude and delight approaching euphoria. As for normal clean up, either do it once in awhile, or strike a deal... I.E., I disarm and remove the canine generated land mines in the yard, so Dementia cheerfully polices the latrine. Having said all I can (for now), I hope this provides the basis for a higher level of connubial bliss, but I feel one coming on, so... Go Away!!!