Also, pineapple does not make good deodorant.
What did I tell you about trail shoes? Hearts to trail shoes. Unofficial casual day at work today - everyone was instructed to wear their favorite t-shirts. While the other librarians tried to stay in the sassy library t-shirt family (She blinded me with library science, anyone?) I instead went the Threadless and completely library-not-related route.
And now, a story.
When one is in college, one does many stupid things. It's all part of the "college experience." A lot of people blame their stupid actions on alcohol and other substances, but as previously discussed, I am far too uptight for underage drinking and other substances at any age, I don't have the luxury of blaming anything but my own special, completely sober brain for the following.
I have always been a curious person, the type of person who will try something that might not make a whole lot of sense. My rationale is... well, someone had to try turning mold into medicine. I bet that didn't make a great deal of sense in the beginning either, and look how well that turned out! This is how great things are discovered!
One day, I was sitting in my dorm room, waiting for Greatness. The window of my dorm room was rather inconveniently situated directly perpendicular to the back door of the dorm. This resulted in many late-night awakenings from peaceful slumber by noisy night-owl students, as well as people looking into our room by accident while unlocking the back door during the day. Awkward.
My roommate was at class, and I was doing something productive (probably changing the message on our answering machine. Everyone knows it is very funny to change the message on your dorm room answering machine without telling your roommate). I took a productivity break to gaze out the window at our lovely view of the back door and the university dining hall. I believe I sighed happily.
It was then that I noticed a student crossing the buses-only street from the dining hall, coming toward the back door of the dorm. His arms were full of something I could not quite make out. I considered leaving the room to open the door for him, but we weren't supposed to open the door for strangers, so I waited and watched from my room. Not at all like Someone From a Horror Film. It soon became clear that the student was carrying an armload of bananas and imitation Kraft singles. I emphasize: He was very definitely not carrying anything else.
This got me thinking... what on earth would someone be making with a nearly industrial-sized armload of bananas and cheese?
Quite obviously, he was going to melt the cheese over the bananas and eat it.
If you are not from Wisconsin (and possibly even if you are, if you're from a more sophisticated part of our fine state than I am), this might seem like a weird idea. However, where I'm from, it's not unusual to put cheese on things like steak or vegetables or anything else that might be just a little disturbingly healthy without a good slather of cheddar. It's not unusual to take plain cheese and exponentially increase it's bad-for-you factor by beer-battering it and throwing it in a deep fryer. Wisconsin - Eat like you mean it.
So let me ask you now, if you were raised in this environment, would it be out of the question to take perfectly good, potassium-rich fruit and melt some processed cheese product on it?
Well... yes. It might be out of the question. However, I think you have realized by this point that for me, it was not only a reasonable thing to do, but it was absolutely 100% in the question to take perfectly good potassium-rich fruit and melt some processed cheese on it. I knew I would not be able to sleep that night if I did not find out what this delicacy tasted like. Maybe it would be the next chocolate-covered strawberry! I'd have bananas and a big vat of nacho cheese outside Boston Store at the mall every other Saturday! I'd make millions!
Luckily, I had some processed cheese in our mini-fridge, and my roommate had foolishly left a bunch of bananas on top of the mini-fridge, and I took my easy access to these things as a sign that what I was doing was indeed righteous and good.
I took a nice big chunk of peeled banana and put it in my Powerpuff Girls heart-shaped bowl with a slice of processed cheese product perched on top of it just so. This masterpiece I placed in the microwave for forty-five seconds. If I had been listening, I might have heard the Powerpuff Girls screaming for me to stop, but I was far too excited about my future millions to pay any attention.
The first sign that something about this was not right was that when I pulled the concoction out of the microwave, I noticed that the banana was sort of disintegrated. However, millions in mind, I took a great big bite.
The closest thing I can compare the taste to is blenderized throw-up with a slice of plastic. The disintegrated banana did nothing for this texture. Unfortunately, thinking about what my wonderful new recipe tasted like almost made me actually throw-up. It was very disappointing. Realizing in a split second that I was not going to make millions out in front of Boston Store selling my nacho bananas, I spit the banana into the hallway garbage. I was not about to have bananacheesebarfmush in the room with me any longer than necessary, because I realized after I bit into it that it also smelled just like you'd think something called bananacheesebarfmush should.
I have no idea who mystery student was feeding his bananas and cheese to, but I'm pretty sure they were people he hated. A lot. One of them was probably his ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend and the other was probably Hitler.
When my roommate got back from class, she said, "Why is the window open? It's so cold today. And what's that smell? Were you trying to cook again? I think someone put food in the hall garbage again."
It's before I do these things that I need someone to remind me that eating moldy bread crusts is not the same as taking penicillin.