I don’t understand bananas.

Here’s the thing: I have a lunch bag into which I put my lunch. Yes, sometimes even I follow the rules.

Today’s lunch included some crackers in a zippy bag, a sandwich in the Transformers sandwich box that I may or may not have stolen from my son (he’s not old enough to bring his own lunches yet - don’t judge me!), a pre-packaged container of yogurt (which I stole from my better half who won’t notice the missing yogurt until she reads this post) and a banana.

Why does everything taste like bananas?!

Everything was in its own container (even the banana - it wasn’t peeled or anything, guys); yet, every item in my lunch bag now has a faint banana flavor. Banana crackers. Banana tuna sandwich that, by the way, doesn’t taste nearly as good as you imagine it might. And that’s saying something.

I guess the upside is that my banana tastes like a banana.

The way I grew up was simple: Family is family. [I told you it was simple.] I was brought up to believe that no one will ever have my back the way my family will. Granted, my dad’s side of the family is Italian and was often prone to fits of Mafia-esque proclamations. With over 25 cousins, that’s a lot of proclaiming.

And no. I still don’t need you to break any legs. Thanks for asking.

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DAY 25: The Anthem of the Besties. What song describes or reminds you of your pals?

And I’m back to super long posts of the super long variety. Hunker down with some tea (may I suggest Accidental Awesome for you Thin Mint fans?) and get comfy … I have a lot of besties. Don’t worry, I won’t write about them all.

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DAY 21: My ears are bleeding! What song makes you want to rip off your own ears and mail them to the record company with a thank you note for allowing said song to be produced?

I’m sticking with the holiday theme for this one, kids.

My Barbra Streisand Fan Club membership is about to be rescinded, I know.

Look, I love Barbra. I think she’s an amazing talent on so many fronts; but, whoever came up with this arrangement of Jingle Bells needs to be locked in a tiny room with nothing but a chair and this song on repeat.

True story:

I was at the grocery store just minding my own business and grabbing a few snacks for our Holiday Pajama Jam Film Fest (tm). This song started and I nodded along happily, smiling as I made my way toward the pizza rolls. We have a very special and specific menu for our holiday festivities. All was well.

Until about midway through the song when I was certain of two things: Barbra has jingle-jangle Turret’s and I was about to have my very first seizure ever.

I called home and the first words out of my mouth were, “Help me. My head is about to explode.”

I prefer my holiday Barbra a little more like this: