Kate's Point of View

There are new cleaning folks at works now… There is mold growing on one of the toilet bowls now… Too gross not to share…

When I was 16 there was this boy I worked with who was just so cool. He hung out with the cool kids and he went to the cool parties and he was nice to me, which made him infinitely cooler, in my eyes. And I still remember when I had the realization that his little floppy hairdo had gone out of style a year or two earlier and that maybe he was only invited to those cool parties because he was willing to throw so many parties and maybe he was only nice to me because he wasn’t actually that cool and neither was I. Quite a realization.

When I was 26 (fyi, I am 26 now) my family’s dog who was so sweet and stupid that you would be crazy not to love her. She had few desires in life: walks, treats and puh-lease throw that damn ball. When you watched TV she would curl up in the crook of you waist and when you slept she find fin the warmest spot in your lap. She was pure sweet.

And then it happened. The change.

This little sweet bundle of black and white fur was up the street playing with you cousin or stepsister or some related dog – it’s all very convoluted – when it was noticed she had been gone for a while. My mother went to track her down and instead of a sweet little dog, found a teeth-bearing ferocious dog. Well, as ferocious as an animal who weighs 13 pounds can be. My mom dragged her hairy little ass back to the front of the house where this little fur ball proceeded to chomp no something crunchy for a good while. Upon closer inspection with a flashlight (it was dark), this sweet little dog was found to be chomping on a rabbit’s foot.

She’s a rabbit killer!

So now at 26, 10 years after that shocking revelation about the cool guy, I am once again going through the trauma of disillusionment.

This past weekend some girlfriends and I descended on Miami University, a barren place now that school has let out, for a bachelorette party. We dined at a restaurant that used to be some of the girls’ favorite bar. No one was carded for drinks.

We went to a bar where we watched the youngest of the group, a 20-year-old, flirt with the military boy of her liking while his two friends flirted (?) with the remaining ten of us.

We went to another bar / dance club with large amounts of smoke blown onto the dance floor and danced, some of us knowing the words to most of the songs. We watched one of the military boy’s friends, newly turned 20 by a matter of minutes, flirt with and grind on one of the girls in our group, complimenting her by thinking her 24 (as opposed to her real 26).

And in the end of the feeling of the night didn’t need a name because it was stamped on our hands, quite literally, as the bar stamp for the “club.”

“What does OLC mean?” one of the girl in our group asked, looking at her hand.

“OLD. Your hand says you are OLD. The D didn’t get stamped on all the way.”

As proof that our nation is increasingly interested in the easy way out when it come to losing weight, I offer this conversation overheard at the grocery store between a customer and the pharmacist:

Pharmacist: Can I help you?
Customer: Yes, I have a question.

Pharmacist: Yes?
Customer: I heard about this diet and wanted to make sure it was safe.

Pharmacist: Okay, tell me about it.

Customer: Well, you eat light during the day. Then you go to bed and you wake up, but you’re not fully awake, and you go to the kitchen and eat anything you want. And since you’re not fully awake, you don’t gain any weight.

Pharmacist: Okay.

Customer: What do you think?

Pharmacist: I haven’t heard about that diet but I think a mix of eating healthy and exercise would be more effective.