It only took me a few days to realize that working in a frat house was going to have its challenges.  A lot of them.  Many of those first days, and even weeks, I would show up to the kitchen and exactly nothing would be clean.  There would be no pots clean, no knives clean, my utensil  drawer would be empty.  In those very early days, I was a little (very little and for a very short time) timid about throwing a fit (I’m very good at it now.  In fact, I’m an expert) and leaving.  So, I would do what I could and eventually during the day, the pots and pans and knives and everything else would show up and get cleaned.  Now, there were some brothers at KA at the time who made it clear they were none too happy about my presence in their house.  One day, I had made some sandwiches for lunch.  Sandwiches don’t require any pots, pans, knives, etc., and one of the boys who was obviously unhappy with me, complained to me at lunch because I hadn’t included a “side dish” with his sandwich. I had long gotten over being “timid”.  I just about lost my mind.  I remember shouting about how side dishes require things to cook them in, etc, etc. Things got a little cleaner after that day, and a lot more interesting, too.  I had realized that if I wanted there to be any food for me to cook, I would have to lock it up.  My refrigerator had a chain around it, but it wasn’t really tight and you could pry the door open just a bit.  One morning, I came in, thinking things were getting better, the guys were getting used to me, and I was getting used to them as well.  I unlocked my fridge and there on the top shelf, someone had left me a “penis banana”  What’s a penis banana you ask?  Well, it’s a banana that has a penis drawn on it – all of its parts were labeled.  I assumed the artist thought I needed a little anatomy lesson.  Now, if this had taken place last week, instead of 10 years ago, I would have chopped it in half with a knife, left it and the knife on the counter and gone shopping for the day.  But, I was new there and I was dumbfounded.  I called my husband, frantic and crying (that seems so absurd now) and he laughed at me.  He also said what he has said to me at least 100 times since that day” you took a job cooking in a frat house, what did you expect?”  He managed to calm me down enough to talk reasonably calmly to the powers that be in the house.  I was certain I knew that Mr. “side dish” douche bag was responsible for the banana art.  In fact, the next day, he showed up in my kitchen and apologized.  And I told him all was forgiven, (but not forgotten) boys will be boys.  I didn’t order bananas for a long time, though. Or crinkle cut fries- you see, my only weapon against a douche bag in the house is food.  That’s all I got, and this kid loved crinkle cut fries.  He’d ask me to order them from time to time and I’d say “sure” and then I’d order steak fries, or curly fries, or straight fries, or tater tots.  I did not order crinkle cut fries again until the penis banana douche bag graduated.

And by the way, the penis banana douche bag grew up – I saw him a few years ago and he was pleasant and nice and has a lovely wife and kids now.  And I have a truly fabulous story.  Thanks, Beebs.