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May the Fourth Be With You

May 4, 2012

Let’s get down to business.

Not only is it FRIDAY — It’s “Star Wars Day“!!!!!!!!!!

Do you know what that means?  It means this day is DOUBLY good.  Wow.  Seriously.  Take advantage of this one.

Because it’s Star Wars Day, you are required by Jedi law to tell everyone you see, “May the Fourth Be With You!!”   You know, instead of, “May the FORCE Be With You!!”  Get it?! CLE-VER.

FURTHERMORE, you are fully within your rights on this day to act as any character from any Star Wars film.  I give you permission.  Keep it under control though.  You KNOWWWW that I love a crazy dude actually thinking he’s a Jedi running around a toy store and trying to start fights with people…but keep it simple, keep it safe, keep it cool.

FURTHERMOREMOREGothamist is holding a National Star Wars Day photoshop competition.  Photoshop Princess Leia (IN A BIKINI, GUYS), or Han Solo, into a picture of New York City, then email your photos to photos@gothamist.com.  Alternatively, you can take pictures of yourself around town in various Star Wars outfits.

FURTHERMOREMOREMORE, the official Star Wars website has tons of games, events, and more for you to check out — even e-cards you can send!!! HOORAY!  I already sent a set to my whole family.

CARPE DIEM, CARPE BANANASSS, AND MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU.

XOXO

That’s Bananasss

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Befuddlement – GOLF?!

May 2, 2012

There are a few things I will never understand completely:

  • Why people hate the word ‘moist’
  • Why the Knicks can’t get it together
  • Leftovers
  • Why people eat from food carts on the street
  • Why shoelaces won’t stay tied
  • Why PCs are still popular
  • Why people watch golf
  • Why people play golf

Speaking of which, I wouldn’t recommend having your bachelor’s party on a golf course if you at all value your safety.  It could be dangerous.  There are a handful of angry seniors passing their excessive spare time on the golf course who have absolutely no patience for your unexperienced asses. Come back in fifty years, please.

This is essentially what happened recently in Florida (where else???) when two men berated and attacked a group of guys celebrating a buddys’ impending nuptials.

So maybe they were a little tipsy (the bachelors)…and maybe they were newish to golf…but they were just playing a leisurely game, trying to enjoy the day and their friends’ last moments of freedom.

Is it so much to ask for??

Apparently, YES.  A group of older-folk were behind the young bachelors, getting increasingly tizzied (is that a word?) at how slow the guys were playing.  One of them, bold and brave James Alonzo Hines (61 yrs), took charge.  He rammed his golf cart into the group of guys, and smashed them over the head with his club.  He proceeded to demand that they respect their elders.  Seriously.  That’s not just something old people say in movies.

If you ask me, it seems a little excessive.  I’m not really violent by nature (ignore my bout of MMA training), and I feel like it could have been okay to do any of the following:

  • Politely ask them to play faster
  • Meanly ask them to play faster
  • Shoot spitballs at them from the bushes
  • Skip that hole entirely and go around them (can you do that in non-mini golf? I don’t even know)
  • Ask them if they need help
  • Offer expertise and advice
  • Join parties for a rockin’ good golf time

    My kind of golf party.

Ok, the last one is a little suspect, because I can’t imagine having fun on the golf course.  But, it is what it is, as they say.  I’m still a little stuped on how such a slow, boring game could cause people to get aggravated because people are playing it slowly…and are most likely bored…but maybe one of you golf fans can answer that for me?

At least he didn’t attack a teenager,like these seniors did

Still though, it’s a little bananasss.  Take a breather, head back to the club house, have a brandy and a cigar, and relax, bro.

[Not] Working for the Weekend

April 20, 2012

Do you ever get to work, and feel like you have better things to do? Or maybe you don’t have better things to do. Maybe you’re just bored, and you don’t wanna work. Maybe you hate your job. Maybe you love your job. It’s okay to be bored! It’s Friday — I get it (and a very special Friday at that – you may not even be in yet).

Here are a few things you can do to keep yourself busy while the hours pass by slowly, second by second.

    Read a section of the dictionary. Not only will you look like you’re doing something important because a big book will be sitting on your desk, but you might learn a word or two.

    Create a signature style of handwriting for yourself. Maybe you want to dot your ‘i’s, or heart them. Maybe your ‘y’s will be curly and loopy. Maybe you will write your ‘o’s with smiley faces inside, or puppies. Maybe all your ‘j’s will be purely in capitals. Who knows. Let your imagination soar.

    Create some art. Doodles are fun, sure. But get more creative. Staples? Markers? Highlighters? Post-it notes? I dunno! Be bold. Example from my personal collection (COPYRIGHTED!!!):
    20120420-125222.jpg Careful though. Watch out for this guy.

    Start a blog. Exhibit A: That’s Bananasss.

    Bake a cake. If your office doesn’t have a full kitchen, you can make some jello, or a no-bake Oreo cake.

    Learn morse code.

Or, alternatively, you can get off your tuchas, walk right out of your office and go do something more interesting!

[Disclaimer: I’m not responsible if any of the aforementioned activities get you fired.]

A song to keep you entertained when you’re bored at work:

Now He’s a Honcho, He’s a Hero!

April 16, 2012

Lately (thankfully), there’s been somewhat of a resurgence in heroes.

And I’m not talking about crazy people who think they’re heroes, or people who want to be heroes.  I’m talking about real-life heroes walking the very same streets we walk! *~iMaGiNe ThAt~*

Well, maybe they aren’t actually heroes, but I’ve declared them as such, because it’s my blog and I can if I wanna.

Anyway, you should be excited, because that means that you’re just that much safer in this dangerous, cruel, lonely world.

I mean, it actually only applies if you live in New York City, Newark, New Jersey, or Beaconsfield, Australia.  Because that’s where the heroes I’m featuring are.  Which means that I’m safe…which is essential.  So I hope you are, too.

Daniel Grulke, Beaconsfield, Australia

This kid was about to get on a train (is that what they’re called in Australia?) when all of a sudden, he notices a crazy chica about to DIE!  She’s just being all sad, and suicidal I suppose, walking along the train tracks.  Maybe we should give her the benefit of the doubt — this is like, her normal route to school or something, and she’s really skilled at jumping off the tracks at the last minute, after years of practice.  Or, maybe she actually wanted to die.  Well — Daniel didn’t care.

What does he do?

Like a true hero, he JUMPS TOWARDS THE TRACKS, then he PUSHES HER OUT OF THE WAY, then HE HAS TO SAVE HIMSELF FROM DYING VIA TRAIN COLLISION.  ALL IN LIKE, 5 SECONDS.  That is bananasss.

And not gonna lie, he’s pretty cute too.   I mean, he’s too young for me, but ugh!

Cory Booker, Newark, NJ

 Good old Cory Booker is already a known hero.  It’s no surprise he’s cleanin’ up Newark, spiffin’ up the streets, baking cookies, creating rainbows, handing out gold, is generally l o v e d, and so on and so forth.

What I want to save me from a fire

His neighbor’s house is on fire, and naturally, he realizes.  It’s his heroic mayoral sixth sense.  So he GETS UP, he GOES TO THE HOUSE, and he runs inside and saves some people.

BUT WAIT — the flames are huge, rippin’ and roarin’ and he doesn’t think he’ll make it out alive…He gets religious…He sees his death…He accepts his fate…”Suddenly I was at peace with the fact that I was going to jump out the window,” he tells the news…

And to break his visions of sugarplum fairies and unlimited chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in hero-mayor heaven, comes a girls shrill screams out of left field.  So naturally, he steps away from the window he’s about to jump out of, goes back into the other room, saves the girl, and they both come out ALIVE.  WHAT A HERO.

Lastly and most importantly is…

COULD YOU PLEASE STOP BEING SO ATTRACTIVE?

Ryan Gosling, New York City

If you haven’t heard about this story yet, you probably are dead.  In which case, I am exttreemmeeellyyyy curious to know how you’re reading this.

Anyways, basically, he saved a journalist from dying via taxi cab collision.   This needs no further explanation.

I would actually die from a heart attack if he saved my life.

In which case, I would rather just get hit by a taxi cab.  Because I’m not ready to die.

It’s not even clear if the woman was happier to be saved from her taxi death, or to be saved by Ryan: she tweeted, “I literally, LITERALLY just got saved from a car by Ryan Gosling. Literally. That actually just happened.”  I can’t tell.

Ugh, so dreamy.

In any event, heroes are making a comeback.  So I feel safer.

Read this for a detailed thought-piece on who you would rather be saved by: Cory Booker or Ryan Gossling.  For me, it’s…..Ryan……………or Cory…………..Noooo the Australian kid…………..the puppy?……………..Ryan…………IDK!

What do you think?

Bananasss.  

Big. Bad. Eww.

March 28, 2012

“Large and in charge” is the phrase of the day.

No – I’m not referencing a person. Or the boss man. Or ‘the man’. I’m talkin’ animals, baby.

If you’ve been following me on my blourney (blog journey), you’ve seen a few freaky animal stories already (like this one, this one and this one).

You know these lines:

“And then something went BUMP!
How that bump made us jump!
We looked! Then we saw him step in on the mat!
We looked! And we saw him! The Cat in the Hat!
And he said to us, “Would you like to see this nine-pound rat?”

Oh — was that version not familiar to you?  I edited the end a little.

But by now, I’m sure you’ve guessed part 1 of the story, you smart little blog-follower.

Traipsing around Florida is a stubborn, excellent-at-breeding-and-surviving group of rats. No, they’re not the kind you see in your garage, or even the disgusting ones that chill on the subway tracks.  No no.

They are giant Gambian pouched rats.  Did I mention that they are gigantor?  In fact, they can grow to be about 9 pounds…essentially the size of Sir Winstonfluff, your cat.  Apparently they were imported from Africa as pets a ways back, and in 2003 they were banned…so this breeder dude, being super super smart, released a bunch of them into the wild in Florida.

Now, they’re procreating.  Obviously.  And as far as that’s concerned — these guys can produce 20 babies in 9 months.  That is like a lot more times than humans.  So essentially, they’re reproducing so much, and so quickly, that they’re impossible to get rid of.

OH THERE’S A POSITIVE HERE THOUGH  — apparently the gigantic pythons in Florida eat these suckers…so that helps thin the crowd.   But, of course, then you have to worry about a growing population of frighteningly huge snakes.

So basically…IT NEVER ENDS!

Now, if the superrats aren’t bananasss enough for you, let’s shift from turf to surf.

Recently, a fisherman from New Zealand got himself the ultimate catch: a 738-pound Pacific bluefin tuna.  Now, that’s a heck of a lot of tuna.  And he coulda made a heck of a lot of money (the last one around that size that was caught landed around $1 mill.).

Oh…EXCEPT for the fact that he’s not allowed to, based on a New Zealand law that states you can’t sell fish that was caught on a registered recreational boat…sshhhuuckksssssssss.

Well, let’s hope the poor guy at least gets to set the world record for largest tuna caught.

And if that doesn’t happen, he still has the personal satisfaction of being a total badass.  Why?  Because he caught that fishy in a small tin boat, using a plain old fishing pole.

Seriously, that’s pretty impressive.  And I’m saying that as a vegetarian.  I am super impressed.  But I also kind of don’t believe it’s even possible.  I mean, I don’t understand the science behind like weight, or physics, or fishing, but it seems…unlikely.  I’m thinking he got the fish drunk.  I don’t know.  I guess we’ll never know.  It’ll just be between that man and the fish he’s going to mount on his wall.

Bananasss.

This child is clearly not as frightened of this anaconda as he should be. I wonder what happened after this picture was taken?

What’s a Foot, Anyway? Foot Schmoot!

March 26, 2012

I’ll just throw it out there.

I don’t love working.

And I’m typing this post from my office (again). But I’m not ashamed to say it.

See, the thing is, I just wasn’t born a worker. I figured this out somewhere in middle school.

There were a few signs:

  • I am not a bee (surprise!).
  • I have no genetic coding that predisposes me to be productive, unless it’s something I care about.
  • I hate sitting in a stuffy office (who does?).
  • I hate sitting at a desk in an uncomfortable chair.
  • I hate sitting in a stuffy office at a desk in an uncomfortable chair.
  • I have the ability to sit on the beach in the sun for hours and days on end without accomplishing anything at all, and still feeling good about myself as a human being.
  • I can watch Vampire Diaries for 8 hours straight, then go to bed after, and still feel good about myself as a human being.
  • Etc.

So despite how much I can dislike work sometimes (maybe I just haven’t found the right *career* yet???), I decided there is definitely a limit to how far I would go in order to miss work. They are as follows (to all my current and future employers — this is entirely hypothetical, and I ASSURE YOU I am an HONEST HARDWORKING SOUL):

  • I might lie about being sick.
  • I might lie about a family emergency.
  • I might just not come in and give no reason at all.

That’s essentially where it ends…I actually do hate lying, and I have an actual inability to lie, so, you know, I tend to just go to work.  But it gives me plenty of kvetching material.

On the other hand, there are some folks in the world who are willing, as always, to break barriers and go where no sane human being goes. No, it’s not a weird Southerner as usual…well it kind of is.

This crazy Austrian guy decided to chop his foot off. I say that in all seriousness, in fact, with a little feeling of nausea starting to creep up on me. The thing is, he was supposed to go into the labor office where it would be decided whether or not he was deemed fit to return to work. I’m assuming he had the last-minute jitters…or a mild bout of psychosis…or possibly a moment of true clarity…But whatever it was, he ended up sawing off his foot using the chain saw in his garage shop. Oy.

So then, instead of calling the police immediately, he actually walked back inside his house, walked to the kitchen, and put his severed foot into the oven. He THEN proceeded to call for help. Oh boy.

The Australian as a Child? Quite Possibly.

I’m not sure if this is part of some my-foot-was-just-sawed-off protocol (I couldn’t find anything on Google) — but apparently it did no good, because the paramedics couldn’t sew it back on in the end.

But, hey, there’s a bright side to this. He doesn’t have to go to work anymore, or at least until he heals.

I’ll be reading the news to see what he does post-healing when they try and get him to go back to work again.

Hopefully, since he is obvi totes bananasss, he gets sent to a psychiatric hospital instead, where he can spend his days inside fake-sawing off his limbs with a toy chainsaw. I will buy him the toy. I love making people happy.

——

Are YOU #boredatwork? Don’t forget to follow me on twitter to be constantly updated on my super fab life. Also, I’m now committed to a new line of tweets — #boredatwork (infinite tweetortunities with that one…). Keep your eyes open for @thats_bananasss!!!! SERIOUSLY DO IT.

This Ain’t No Come Back – And Hair

March 22, 2012

OH, hello there.

You thought I was gone, didn’t you?

You thought that someone just threw the banana out, left it out to rot, or maybe put it in the compost bin, didn’t you?

Well, you were wrongSo, so wrong.  Mainly because I’m not that environmentally friendly, and furthermore, I hate rotting things.  Also, I love bananas.

I just took a mild break, like a break that was long enough for the bananas to ripen to perfection, only to be fashioned into a delicious, flavorful, moist banana bread.  You can rest easy now, friends, because I’m back.  Look forward to bright days ahead.

Let’s dive right in…

 ——————————————————————————————————————-

Being a girl, hair has always been a thing for me.  Like it is for all girls Mainly, I hate my hair.  Like many girls do.  Naturally, it’s curly, frizzy, and somehow full, while still being thin and blah (another great set of traits passed down from mom…thanks).  I spent my childhood being envious of my straight-haired friends, and they spent their childhoods being envious of our other curly-hair friends (not of me, because my hair was always just, blah).  The rest of my time was spent straightening, blow-drying and dying my hair until we arrived at present day Natasha’s Hair –> still blah, and a little worse for wear.  Though through the use of numerous expensive Keratin treatments, the blah has been able to be transformed to pretty-much-no-longer-curly-and-not-too-frizzy-and-just-mildly-blah.

Classic First World Problem

After all that, the one thing wrong that’s left with my hair that I can really, really kvetch about is that it just won’t grow.  It gets to a certain length, and then it stops, no matter what.  This length is never long enough.  It’s not long enough to be long-and-pretty, and it’s not short enough to be short-and-pretty, so I inevitably end up cutting it shorter and complaining that it’s too short, and that it’s never long enough.  And this happens every few months that I cut my hair.  It’s seriously stressful.  #firstworldproblems

Of course, I’m super jelly of all my friends who manage to grow their hair super long and luscious, and all of their friends who do the same, and all the celebs, and basically everyone I see with super long hair.  But then, I read this article in the news, and it kind of changed my world view.  It also grossed me out a little, so I’m happy my lunch break isn’t until a bit later (yes I’m writing this at work – eeeeeeek).

So essentially, this girl, this BRAZILIAN girl (uma moça brasileira), who just so happens to be named Natasha (I am considering blaming her for stealing my ability to grow hair, quite possibly from all the short-haired Natashas in the world), has SUPER LONG HAIR.  It’s over 5-feet long, only 1.5 inches shorter than her actual height.  Which is really, really freaky.   She’s 12 years old, and has never cut her hair a day in her life.  I mean, okay, sure, do what you want, grow your hair, etc., blah blah blah.

The weirder thing is she wants to sell it.  Initially, she wanted to sell her hair for over $2,000 to help bring her family out of poverty.

Today, she plans to sell it for around $5,000, for an even more noble cause — redoing her bedroom in her house.  She no longer cares about poverty.  Having the chicest duvet is way more important.

Take a look at this article for really weird, moderately artsy and definitely pretty uncomfortable pictures of little Natasha.

Her mother, in true mother form, never implored her daughter to cut the hair.  She just blindly embraced this weird tendency/mild obsession, praising her daughters’ curly locks (which, btw, take about 4.5 hours of combing per day).

I’m assuming my parents never ever had this issue when I was a child, considering my hair’s absolute refusal to grow.   But I do wonder — what would they have said (maybe they’ll comment below with a response…who knows).

All I really know for sure is that this Natasha brasileira stole all my hopes and dreams for long locks.  And here I am, in America, in an office, with average-length hair, feeling upset about it.

8 bananas for Natasha growing her hair that long — a totally completely and utterly superficial move, and then selling it for even more superficial reasons — new window curtains.

The only thing I can take comfort in is that her hair is not as long as this lady’s, who clocks in at 18 feet.  TAKE THAT, NATASHA.

Ugh.  Bananasss.