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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?


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…


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?


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.


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.

Sweet Sundays – Ca$h Monie$ for $mall Bu$ine$$e$

February 19, 2012

While there are an infinite amount of silly people in this world who do horribly silly things, or sometimes, just horrible things, I’m not so cynical that I don’t think there is a decent amount of good out there, too.  Like definitely around 1 tablespoon worth.  Remember my post on Coffee Angels?  Kinda like that.  Which is why I’m officially setting into motion Sweet Sundays at That’s Bananasss — intermittent Sunday posts about the good stuffs in life.  If you hear of anything particularly special, let me know so I can write about it 🙂  Here we goooooooo!


News flash: the economy sucks.  Didn’t know that?  Well, you must live on a deserted island, and I’m not sure how you’re reading this blog right now.  Unless you’re in a LOST-esque situation, and the island you’re on isn’t actually deserted, and there is a weird cultish colony type thing on the other side over the mountains  (I think that’s what happened. I never finished watching after it got weird, so forgive me.).

Speaking of flashing (NO – not that kind…I know there’s been a lot of nudity-talk on here lately but come on.  It’s Sweet Sunday.  This is PG!) — I love flash mobs.  I’ve always wanted to be a part of one.  Even though I can’t really dance.   What’s a flash mob, you ask?  Look at the video below (or WIKI it).  I have a blog post to write.  I can’t always be wasting my time educating you people.

Most recently, cash mobs have been organized all over the country.

No — it’s not what you’re thinking.  You don’t get tons of people together to throw money in the air.  That would be a waste of money for some people (though time really well spent for whoever picked it all up).

Luck recently fell upon Emery’s 5 & 10 in Tennessee, a struggling local business.  Upwards of 800 people (What?? That’s bananasss!! I didn’t know that many people lived in Tennessee!!) streamed into the shop one day, each with some money in their hands.  They had one goal in mind: $PEND $PEND $PEND.  Almost 600 sales later, you better believe the Emery’s owners (who have had the family business since 1927) were supeerrrrr happy.  For a lot of these stores, they’ve probably never had a full store before, and they’ve probably never even had people more than 2 people waiting in a line at the cash register before (and certainly not a line that wrapped around and around and around).

So really it’s a wonderful thing — spending $20 at your local store instead of Target could make a big difference and help keep some of our small, local business afloat, especially if you get your friends to do it too.  🙂

Interested in checking out the mob rules, cash mobs near you, or starting a cash mob of your ownClick here to get to the blog for more information.

Sweet Sunday my loves!  I hope you all enjoy some banana split sundaes.

Doing It For Love – Not Always Okay

February 17, 2012

Valentine’s Day is a day on which people express love for other people. They send candies, flowers, personalized gifts, make dinner, go out, blah, blah, blah, etc. It’s usually pretty normal, kinda boring, and always the same stuff. Luckily, this world is filled with people who take life to the next level. Let’s start with the stupid, and then go to the really, really stupid.


A restraining order is…a restraining order. It’s generally pretty clear. It generally means, “STAY AWAY”. It generally means, “DO NOT CONTACT ME”. I’m assuming if you we’re married to someone, and then all of a sudden, you find yourself with a restraining order against you, unable to contact your wife, you kind of know why. Somewhere along the line, something happened. You fucked up, and now you’ve been banished. And it was probably explained really clearly to you by a cranky judge.

Ok, it’s true — often, people will do things if they’re not explicitly told not to do them. Which is why your hairdryer warns you not to get it wet (I’m sure someone decided it was a good idea to cuddle with their hairdryer in the bathtub while it was on). Which is why your coffee cups warn you that the contents are hot (I don’t want to know the idiot who complained about that). Which is why Christmas lights say, “For indoor or outdoor use only” (I don’t know what the alternative would be, but I’m sure someone figured one out, and died). Read here for some more.

But anywho, this guy decided, “Pshaw, laws…” and sent his wife some Valentine’s Day flowers, despite the restraining order. Of course, he ended up in jail. As someone who’s got a restraining order against him for “charges of battery, strangulation and false imprisonment,” it probably would have been a good idea to not break the restraining order…but who knows…I’m assuming he’s still in jail, and I’m okay with that.

Really, Really Stupid:

Sexual fetishes are normally played out in the bedroom…or house…or some private space. Wherever it may be. What probably isn’t a good idea is bringing it out in public, and definitely not if it’s a bondage kinda thang.

This couple was all like, “Umm, whatever, the world is my stage/bed.” Except, it involved this guy tying up and gagging his girlfriend in the back seat of his car, naked. Somehow, they were spotted outside the grocery store. How she ended up in the back of her car naked and all tied up, I don’t know. Did she leave the house like that? Did she become naked along the way? Why was she brought along? She obviously couldn’t help shop looking like that (and definitely not if she was restrained). Did they think that no one would notice? Well, probably.

Except, people noticed, and they had a nice little cop get-together at their house awaiting their return. They were arrested…which must have been awkward. First of all, the girl was naked. I hope they gave her clothes. But secondly, I just can’t even imagine explaining that calmly to an officer. And definitely not while naked. And in jail.

If you’re going to do something that in public, looks illegal, or actually is illegal………………………keep it in the bedroom folks. Love isn’t an excuse for everything. Sometimes you have to explain yourself to people, and you might be naked, and you will definitely look like a jerk. But hay, if that don’t matter to YOU, then the world is your stage/bed.


For fun, I did a Wordle of this post. I assumed “restraining” would be the biggest word (aka most-used…smaller words are less-used)…I was right. Kinda bananasss.

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Will Always Love You (And Dead at a Drive-Through)

February 14, 2012

I would be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to honor the life of Whitney Houston, who passed away on February 11th.  RIP, lady.  RIP.  If you didn’t know that she passed away, please go away.  If you don’t care, same thing.

[initiate moment of silence – play video]


Now that we’ve talked about Whitney Houston’s passing, I’m going to segue smoothly into something else death-related (there was really no way to go about that smoothly…sorry).  We all know America.  The United States of America.  Amurrica.  We also all know America’s unbelievably prevalent tendency to turn everything into the fastest version of itself.  Internet is constantly getting faster, food takes five seconds to prepare (and to eat), bank drive-throughs, all grocery stores and pharmacies have self-checkouts to speed up the process, you can order food from your table using a computer and not a waitress.  I can’t tell if it’s efficiency or laziness or a combination of both…but that’s a conversation for another time.  What I do know is that in some instances, it’s completely inappropriate and bananasss.  For example, when people die.

Aside from people who cover themselves in peanut butter and chocolate, and people who get in fights over brownies, and people who refuse to wear clothing, and people who raise hamster armies, this is definitely one of the more disturbing things I’ve encountered recently.

Not only can you drive-through to pick up your coffee, your prescriptions or your dinner, but you can also do a drive-through funeral.

Oh yes, it’s TROO!!!  You don’t even have to get out of your car to pay your respects to someone.  Ay carammmmmbaaaa! Que conveniencia!!!! (Eek no hablo espanol).

Ok — so this funeral home is in Compton, LA (that’s in California).  I’ll be frank – I wouldn’t want to get out of my car there either.  BUT STILL.

SRSLYSOMEONE DIED, PEOPLE.  The LEAST you can do is get off your ass before you die and wish someone farewell and bon voyage to hell or heaven or some half-way place or another body or maybe just six-feet-under.  It don’t matter.


3 large bananasss (that’s roughly 15 little bananasss) for the funeral home for thinking up this idea, and for everyone who ever said, “Wow, great idea!”, or for anyone who drove their car through to say “peace out”.  Whoever takes care of my funeral — if you make it a drive-through, I’ll kill ya.

B&E Isn’t ALWAYS Bad

February 11, 2012

Breaking & entering is illegal. We all know this. You aren’t allowed to enter a location unless it’s an acceptable time of day, or you have permission. It’s also illegal to steal. We all know this. You aren’t allowed to take something that is not yours, unless you’ve been given permission by the owner, or you’ve paid for it. I’m assuming that you, my readers, know this. If you don’t, you will most likely be arrested some day, and then I will feature your story on my blog.

I’m going to be bold and say, after reading the news this morning, I’ve decided there are, at the very least, two instances in which I would not mind if someone broke into my living quarters…or whatever (note: this is not an invitation to do so…please stay away from my living quarters…or whatever).

INSTANCE 1: LOOKING SILLY (I’ll excuse the mess)

The other day, a very strange man from Kentucky (is it just me, or does everything weird happen in the south?) broke into a food store – but not to steal anything. He first got down to business by breaking the glass door with his boot (and yes, he was naked, not including the boots, just like many people these days appear to be). Then, he emptied all the fire extinguishers in the grocery store…it’s unclear why. Best not to ask questions here. Next, he spelled out “SORRY” on the grocery store floor using NyQuil. What was he sorry for? We don’t know. Maybe for the fire extinguisher thing, or maybe it was a preemptive apology for this next move.

For the grand finale, Mr. Andrew proceeded to smear peanut butter and chocolate all over his naked body. It’s unclear whether or not he ate it. I don’t know that it matters. But I’m going to guess he had dry skin, and needed a better moisturizer than his regular Aveeno. or maybe he just likes peanut butter and chocolate. I know I do, especially in a PB & Nutella sandwich. Yum. Would I rub it all over my body though….? Probably not. I think I would rather eat it.
Still, I wouldn’t mind if this guy broke in to my living quarters to do this…just to see how ridiculously silly it would all look. I mean, I can only imagine the scene when the police arrived. I would have died. Laughing.

It’s also not such a big deal when you have the next guy burglarizing your home…


Ashely Murray came home to see the lights on. She assumed it was her brother. She was oh so very wrong.

Inside her house was the apparently very neat and cooking-adept Keith Davis. Murray came home to folded laundry, a swept floor, and prepared dinner. CAN YOU IMAGINE? I would absolutely adore this. I mean, he did cook chicken, and I’m a vegetarian, but I’m sure he would take requests. I’m also sure he would clean up the fire extinguisher/NyQuil/peanut butter/chocolate mess left behind by silly burglar #1. In my mind, this is definitely a win-win situation.

Of course, all these people are completely bananasss, but what’s life without some weirdly shaped ripe bananas interjecting every now and then? It’s bananaless…and boring.

Happy weekend, and lock your doors (unless you find a way of vetting the burglars before they enter to better understand their intentions…if they want to do your laundry or make you a pot roast, I would let them in if I were you).

Family Knows Best (Unless You’re Nuts, or It Involves Guns)

February 10, 2012

I’m going to continue today’s theme of family love.  Along with the saying we learned about in my last post, “sharing is caring“, I also ascribe to the saying, “don’t shoot your daughter’s computer with your gun because of a Facebook post.”

Haven’t heard of that one?

I made it up today.

A North Carolinian father read his daughter’s whiny Facebook post, and got really, really, really, really, really, really upset.

He didn’t just ground her, or revoke her privileges, or make her do chores…that’s so banal, and not nearly southern enough. Oh no.  This man took “discipline” to a whole new level (I am glad he is not MY daddy) — “somewhat psychotic parental crackdown“.

He created a 10-minute long YouTube video in which he reads his daughter’s post, he responds to each point individually, and, for the grand finale, tosses her laptop to the ground, and shoots it 10 times in a row.  Yes.  He shot his daughter’s laptop 10 times in a row with a gun.  A real gun.  Not a water gun.  Not a fake gun.  Not a Nerf gun.  Not a spitball [gun].  A real live gun.  With bullets.

I can’t really explain it any better…so I suggest you watch for yourself.

I’ve read a lot of news articles lately about crazy parents who do horrible things (leaving your children on the side of the road, for example)…I’ll just put this out there.  If you are absolutely nuts, or if you have any doubts about being able to parent in a sane manner, please, do not have children.  Spare society the head-shakes and eye-rolls and sighs.  If you’re one of these people, at the very least, don’t shoot your child’s computer (or your child, for that matter).

8 bananasss for the crazy southern daddy — a few for being histrionic, a couple for poor disciplining, and a couple more for not having the foresight to realize his daughter will hate him for the rest of her life (and if not all of it, a good portion of it).

Plz Don’t Slash Me Bro

February 10, 2012

Sibling rivalry is common, in particular among siblings who are close in age.  Every now and then (read: really, really often), my brother and I would fight, and fight, and fight…and then fight some more.  About anything.

We would scream, and yell, and argue, and call at our parents or babysitters to solve the problems.  As the children of a psychologist, it was usually psychological warfare.  Sometimes, we would get into a moderate brawl (a punch or kick here or there)…but I can’t really say I ever feared for my life.  I can’t really say I ever felt like he was going to attack me with, say, a knife (it’s possible he thought about it, and it’s possible I thought about it, but there was never any follow-through…If there was, I probably wouldn’t be here writing this blog post today, in either scenario).

I can’t say the same for two Pennsylvanian brothers.  These guys take sibling rivalry to a wholeeeeeee nnnnewwwwww lleevveelllllll.

Erik and Gene were hanging out, getting ready to eat a McDonald’s brownie (see here for my post about problems arising thanks to fast food: You Probably Shouldn’t Be Eating That Anyway).

Gene made a big mistake though.  He assumed they were sharing.  This seems normal.  Often, siblings share…sometimes…especially if you’re older and you’ve learned how to share, and that sharing is caring.  Erik missed this part of kindergarten.  Gene probably should have known this.

Worth dying for...?

Eric decided to pick up a knife (!)…nay, two knives (!!)…nay, THREE KNIVES (!!!), and attack his bro with them, slashing him repeatedly in the arm and shoulder.

All for a McDonald’s brownie.

Gene didn’t take the attacks lightly.  He responded by throwing a television set at his brother (he is…the hulk?), and Erik peaced out of there pretty quickly (that means he left).  Eventually, Eric was arrested…I feel bad for all his jail bros.  He seems handy with a knife.

I’ve already said that fast food is a bad idea.  This not-so-heartwarming story only proves me right (most things do, because I am often correct).

Not only is fast food unhealthy, not only does it make you obese, not only does it have weird unnatural ingredients in it, not only does it taste horrible, it also encourages extreme sibling rivalry and/or anger and/or aggression and/or an urge to kill.

It’s unclear if it was all due to the McDonald’s though, because apparently Eric is currently out of jail on bail for slashing his girlfriend…so it might just be his thing.  In which case, I would stay away from Eric.

Eric gets 10 bananasss for being downright crazy, caring too much about a McDonald’s brownie (if it were a Ghiradelli brownie, it might have been justified), not having learned about sharing, and for not using his words to express his frustrations.  He may just be a slow learner?

[Update: Today is National Have a Brownie Day.  I encourage you all to go out, eat brownies, overeat, indulge, enjoy, eat more, and be happy…but I’m begging you…don’t eat the McDonald’s ones.  One brownie-induced slashing session is enough for the world.  Xox.]