This is a Bathroom, Not Your Dreams

In your dreams you are allowed to act and do as you please. It's your subconscious; you can be flying one minute and making out with a famous person the next. It's your imagination, so do what you want. In the real world, there are rules. Rules about proper etiquette. In this case, proper bathroom etiquette. It's surprising how often people don't know what to do when faced with the task of relieving themselves. Are they not taught at a young age about hand washing? Were they potty trained over a hole in their backyard? What causes this to happen? I ask myself these questions at the office today. And this isn't the first day I am perplexed. It's the millionth day. There is consistent laziness and sloppiness. Do I need to go home to use a clean restroom? Let's look at the facts. And stop reading now if you have a weak mind stomach.

If I am in the bathroom, and I hear a toilet flush, but I know it's not MY toilet flushing, what do I know for sure? Someone else is in the bathroom. And once I hear the door open on the stall and feet stomp across the floor, what else do I know for sure? That someone is about to make a very crucial decision. They are either going to a. wash their hands or b. WAIT. There is no b. THERE SHOULD BE NO B. THERE IS ONLY A. HAND WASHING. Oh, no, there is a "b" apparently, and that is b. leave the bathroom immediately. So someone thought it would go unnoticed? They are able to sneak out of the bathroom before anyone actually sees their face and can identify them, so it's like it never happened. This isn't like when a tree falls in the woods. I am seriously in the bathroom. I KNOW that sink was never turned on. I know you are a dirt ass and have unclean hands. And guess what; 3 people in my office have the flu. Wonder the F why. People, hand washing is a good idea. Did you grow up in a landfill? Jesus. Just read this handy info.

But that's not the worst thing I have dealt with in this public bathroom (For the record, this is a professional office building that houses many businesses which would appear to be upscale at first glance. However it appears some occupants were raised by wolves). This morning I discovered what is the 3rd most horrible thing you can discover upon entering a stall, but I saw it too late. It was a puddle (The most horrible is a different variety of matter and 2nd most is a friend to women only. Which I have also seen here. LIKE A CRIME SCENE). And I'm not talking sprinkles, I am talking stood a foot away from the toilet and tried to make it, like a god damn carnival game. What are we, men?? My live-in man friend doesn't even shoot this bad. It's pretty nasty, and frankly, if you don't want to sit on a toilet (when seat covers are free and provided) then work from home. Or, immediately alert the building maintenance staff that there has been an accident because you weren't loved as a child and you need a clean up in stall #4 before other women who want to feel less disgusted are there to use the facilities. I don't think I am asking too much here.

If anyone reads this and thinks to themselves "hey, she make some interesting points, but I don't think it's as bad as she is making it out to be" then you are wrong. Please do not think these thoughts and share them with me or others. If you don't wash your hands after you use the bathroom, you are gross and I judge you. If you squat when you pee in public, fine, but I ask you this: how good of a shot are you? And if you are not a good shot and are still determined to squat to avoid germs on your ass, then please wipe up your mess. You are a grown woman. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Hipsters Sometimes Go Too Far

I like hipsters as much as the next guy. I may even try to BE hipster on occasion. But sometimes the need to be hipster and trendy and different goes against all common sense. There are probably too many examples that fit into this description, but recently I had an experience that drove me into a fit of hipster rage. And it happened in a hipster city, at a hipster restaurant.

I will start by stating the most obvious part of this experience: everyone that works at this particular restaurant is a hipster. I am sure there was a check box on the application; "Are you a hipster? Check yes or no." Everyone gets to wear their own clothing, the trendier the better. Facial piercings and tattoos a plus, which I have no problem with. You don't want to wash your hair? Not a problem. You like gauges in your ears? Perfect. Serve this black bean slider to table 6. Hipsters: UNITE.

So now that you understand the population, let's talk about the amenities. Of course there is a lofted space. Why wouldn't there be? And there are no "women" or "men" bathrooms - only unisex "water closets." That may have been my favorite part... I mean what the f. We are not in some suburb of London, it's the suburbs of Detroit. You're lucky if people know how to correctly tip servers. Do you think the notion of a water closet is something they will enjoy, let alone notice? Kudos on the classiest of bathroom labeling. One thing I will say is that the overall design of the place is fantastic. But the architecture only entertained me for a few moments. Then my coffee arrived.

Coffee should be served in two types of dishware: paper and porcelain. Oh what's that? You are going to serve me coffee in something other than that? "I'm sorry but our coffee is served in a tin cup so please be careful." Ok, you are actually telling me that your owner made a bonehead move and is serving a scolding hot beverage in a metal that will do nothing to make this experience delightful? Ok great. DAMN YOU, HIPSTERS! Not only does tin MELT YOUR FACE OFF, it also does not keep coffee warm. This coffee was ice cold in literally 45 seconds. But it was quite soothing on my burned lips. And they didn't stop there. My hipster sliders were served on tin plates. And of course they make their potato chips in house. And they overuse jars. It can't get more hipster than that; it just can't...

I was wrong. They brought over the dessert menu. You might think I am going to say that the most hipster part was the Nutella soft serve ice cream. I originally thought that myself. That's a pretty hipster move. But it was the Cotton Candy. And not just that - they had a flavor of the day. Hold everything. So you can't shell out the cash for freaking coffee mugs that don't destroy the mouths of your customers, but you acquired a device for making cotton candy, which is essentially colored sugar, and you are going to charge me $4 for it? That's more than what it costs at a ballpark, the most over priced place on the face of the Earth. I think I've seen everything. I can die and go to Hipster Heaven.

I leave you with this: I consider myself a food snob, and will spend good money to try food at non-chains and support local business. But if restaurants continue to think they are more awesome than the rest of the universe and try to out-snob my friends and I, I will begin to cook for myself at home. Or eat at Capital Grille every night. Who's with me?!?!?