Bananas clearly enjoy communal living, hence the reason they reside in a bunch, no? Why, then, do people feel the need to break apart the family? You know what I’m talking about (hell, you may even be the guilty party). You are wandering the stacks of bananas and you can’t help but notice an orphan over here, two orphans over there, oh, and don’t forget those single ladies in the back! Who’s responsible for this? Do they not know that they are tearing families apart, breaking the banana code, shattering lives? Who are these people? I demand answers! I want to know who only wants to eat two bananas. Who can’t handle six bananas, especially if they are still green and in no danger of crossing over to the mushy banana mess we all hate. I mean, really. If you don’t like bananas, don’t buy any! Don’t tear off two because you feel like trying them again (even though you don’t really like them), leaving a broken banana village filled with orphans in your wake.
What is it about the weekend that makes people not want to cook? Isn’t this when we have the “most” time? So why do we abandon our kitchens and pack ourselves into mediocre restaurants that we have to wait 45 minutes to get into only to sit down (finally!) and then have to rush through the meal because hundreds more just like us and impatiently waiting for our table? Why do we rush during the week to try and put a home cooked meal on the table in under thirty minutes because we are so pressed for time, yet don’t even attempt to cook when we have all the time in the world? Don’t look at me for answers; I do the same damn thing! I’m just throwing it out there, that’s all.
At times I find myself hiding out in the bathroom at work because I just can’t take it anymore. This gives a girl a lot of time to think… which leads me to the question—why are people messy when they think no one is looking? I mean, you wouldn’t throw paper towels on the floor at home, would you? Then why do we do it at work? Are we really such selfish people that we delight in making a mess that we know we won’t have to clean up? Or is this just the little way we get back at the man for making us work in such a boring, stress inducing environment? Maybe it’s just for the sheer delight that we know no one is watching; it’s one of the few places in the world where we can still remain anonymous, so we celebrate our anonymity by being total and complete pigs.