Every woman would be given a change-the-traffic-light-to-green button so that when she comes out of Borders at 10:30pm in sub-zero weather and her bladder suddenly contracts and starts threatening to expel its contents in a highly un-ladylike manner, she can get home without having to pause at Every Single Stoplight which causes her to concentrate on her bladder, making the problem even worse.
(you may notice that my name at the bottom of the post has changed. It’s still me. I don’t have a catchy handle [nickname, if you didn’t experience the CB era] [I didn’t really. I just absorbed my parents’ lingo], and wanted to make myself a little more standoutish [I was going to make a really lame joke about Miles Standish and name changes in America, but it was only funny to me, and only because I’m rather jacked on caffeine just now]. That is the story of my name change. Wow, I babble a helluva lot when I’m jacked on caffeine [is that how you spell it? Do you think I can possibly stop typing? Maybe I’ll just babble all night and make this the longest aside-post ever. Ever!] Now I’m done.)