Posts Tagged 'fruits'

• Coming Up with a Secret Memorable Word in Front of People

Besides things that I will not do in front of people out of principle, such as most bodily functions like PDA and twosies, there are things that I cannot do in front of people because I am simply unable.

One of the many things that I cannot do in front of people is coming up with a “secret” or “memorable” word for a secure log-in on a given online portal.

The pressure to come up with something is unbearable. There is the inherent conundrum that the word has to be both memorable but not guessable so that it’s secure. But in addition to that, with an audience I freeze up because there are just so many expectations I feel I have to meet or else I will be silently judged.

If the word is not unique enough, like “word” or “password” then I come off as boring and dim-witted, not to mention foolish for allowing myself to be so vulnerable to hackers who always type “word” and “password” as their first tries when attempting to steal my identity.

On the other hand, if I try too hard to sound unique, I basically look like a jackass attention whore who is just trying to be witty through my choice of memorable word in front of whoever is watching me. No one likes that person.

What can I think of that is not sexual, but is secure, memorable, and does not make me look insipid or gullible? Why does this one word have to define who I am in every way?

I opened a new bank account recently where I had to come up with a secret word in front of the teller opening the account for me. He told me that I could come up with any memorable word or name that I can use for security when I am online banking.

I paused and, hoping that it could be a group effort to ease my nerves, asked him, “What’s a memorable word…?” And he turned it back to me and said, “You can choose any word or name that you think you can remember, but is also not guessable.” Thanks for nothing.

As I became more nervous, my mind became all the more blocked. Choosing someone’s name is just too creepy and obsessive, and everything else I started to think of seemed to have some sort of sexual innuendo. Anything that I thought of that could possibly be construed as sexual would be a microcosm of my constant everyday stream of thoughts, and I was going to be deemed a pervert. I would never be able to go to the bank again.

At that moment, the only thing that I could think of was “banana hammock.” And I don’t know why. I never think about banana hammocks. That’s kind of hip and unique, kind of funny, reflects my sense of humor… And I typed “b” and the teller looked at the “b” expectantly, and then I said “no,” and backspaced. What am I thinking? I can’t type “banana hammock” in front of someone I just met, especially someone who is wearing a sport coat and is clearly way too serious about working at a bank to be thinking about banana hammocks.

So I looked at him again, with both of my hands on the keyboard, fingers on the home keys, ready to type but still unable to. “Give me a word!” I said, trying to be fun and make light of the situation. Another failed attempt to get him to help me out. “Anything you want!” he said, as if my freedom in this situation was the most rewarding thing he could possibly think of, and I just didn’t appreciate how much better off I am than those poor people who have their secret memorable words imposed on them. Well, you’re just a son of a bitch, aren’t you. I bet all your friends know that you’re one of those fair weather friends who only shows up when there’s free beer.

“Maybe just ‘banana?,’” I thought,  “that’s a lovely fruit,” and typed “b” again. No! Bananas are shaped like dongs and dongs are sexual, dammit! He’s going to think I’m implying something! I don’t want him thinking that I am thinking about dongs and that he has one and that I am just flagrantly throwing myself at him because I’m so desperate that I can’t get anyone besides the first bank teller I meet who has a banana.

No, “banana” is bad. Backspace. What about another fruit? Cherries? No! I don’t even type “c” because cherry is just another word for virgin and virgins have never had sex, and so maybe he will think that I am implying that I want him to have sex with me as if he’s never had sex before! Plus, cherry stems. Cherry bombs. Wild cherries. Agh!

Then I start singing that song “Like a Virgin” in my head, and then instead of the real lyrics, in my head Madonna says “like a virgin, fucked for the very first time,” and then I realize that those are not the right lyrics, but that is what it sounds like to me, and it makes more sense than getting “touched” anyway, because a virgin could stay a virgin after being touched. Touched is not the same as fucked.

FOCUS!

Peaches look like vaginas. Apricots look like vaginas. In fact, I think that the only reason still life painters paint peaches and apricots is to paint a fruit that looks like a vagina.

Vaginas everywhere!

My God, are there no fruits that are not completely devastated with sexual implications?

And that is when I thought of my memorable word: Apple. Doesn’t look like a dong. Doesn’t look like a vagina. Doesn’t imply that either one of us wants to be fucked for the very first time. It’s just an apple.

And I knew that it was still too dull and boring, so I tried to make it sound like I didn’t have that whole train of thought before I came up with “apple.” I added, “I’m hungry,” hoping he would think that I am always this nonchalant about choosing secret memorable words, and so I just put down the first food that I thought about because I am hungry. He clearly gave way less of a shit about what my secret memorable word means and why I thought of it, and he took the keyboard back to continue with opening my account.

***EDIT***

My friend David has brought to my attention in the Comments that the apple is the symbol of the forbidden fruit, and so choosing “apple” still makes me look sex-obsessed. So when I said “I’m hungry,” the bank teller probably took it to mean, “I am hungry for your forbidden fruits.” And I’m going to have to find a new bank now.

*Photos from Sampa, Shaky City Coffee Co. and Virgin Media, and image of “Still Life with Fruit and Carafe” from Etsy Earth Team.

• Banana Strings

Bananas are a great fruit. They taste good and are good for you. I once ate a kilo of bananas while stuck in traffic and then had a spectacularly satisfying nap (I was a passenger). Having nothing but bananas in my stomach was a wonderful, refreshing feeling that I hope to repeat in the future. You don’t have to wash bananas before you eat them, they are ready to go. They are great with other fruits like the classic strawberry-banana marriage in addition to on their own, but you can also get a little crazy and have them with something like a kiwi and it will still be an absolute pleasure. They go well with other foods like chocolate and they taste fabulous fried and/or with ice cream. The possibilities are numerous.

Which is why when I am hungry and I want nothing more than to bury my face in the simultaneously subtle and potent flavors of a fresh banana and savor its sweetness, softness and coolness, this glorious nectar of the gods gets totally fucked when disrupted by a chalky, rough, slimy, tasteless banana string, totally violating and adulterating the fruit, and shattering the potential state of ecstasy it could have rendered. Like Julius Caesar’s ambition, Othello’s jealousy, Barack Obama’s middle name, the string is the banana’s fatal heroic flaw, the Achilles heel, the tragic breakdown of an otherwise meaningful experience.


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