Seriously, Shape magazine said that the Heavens will literally open up and God Himself will make an appearance with one of His thunderbolts for the sole purpose of striking you down in a fiery blaze if you pair a pineapple bracelet with a pineapple purse.
It is THAT serious of an offense.
Last Saturday night, I was walking down the stairs when my husband stopped me.
“What are you doing?” he asked, watching me from the couch as I stopped at the front door. “You can’t drive anywhere. You’ve had a couple of drinks.”
“I know,” I replied. “I’m waiting on a cab. I’ve called the priest and he’s meeting me at church.”
My husband blinked at me.
“My pineapple wine glass accidentally touched the corner of my pineapple placemat,” I explained, “and from what I understood from the article in Shape magazine, that’s an offense punishable by eternal life spent in Hell. I’m going to Confession to hopefully save my soul. I don’t like the heat all that much.”
My husband sighed, turning back to his baseball game on t.v. “Whatever,” he said.
A few days after I’d read the article, I happened to run into a friend of mine perusing the women’s fiction stacks at the library. (Holy shit, re-read that last line and tell me I’m not the biggest dork in the world. You can’t do it, can you?) I called her name, and when she turned to face me, I saw that she was wearing a really cute white v-neck t-shirt…with a huge pineapple emblazoned on the front.
“Oh my gosh!” I said, and I could feel my whole face light up in delight. “That is such a cute shirt!” And then, before I even realized what was happening, my eyebrows shot skyward and my head bobbed up and down in excitement as I bubbled, “You know, pineapples are really hot right now.”
My friend looked down and shrugged. “Oh, are they?” she asked. “I just got it because it was on the clearance rack at Kohl’s—and then with my Kohl’s cash, it only ended up costing $1.72. I figured for that price, hell, I could do some gardening in it.”
“Well,” I said, pursing my lips in thought, “you could…as long as there aren’t any pineapples on your gardening shears. Or gloves. There aren’t, are there?”
I was about to voice my concern over what, exactly, she was growing in her garden (Could one, say, prune a pineapple plant while wearing a pineapple gardening shirt, or did that go against the one-pineapple rule, too?) when I noticed my friend furrowing her brow as she studied me for a moment.
I’d seen that look before, and I knew what it meant. She was wondering where the hell she went wrong in life, just what it was that she’d done to end up with no better choices for friends than a girl who looked like a horse and blathered on and on about pineapples. But she handled it like a champ.
“No,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “There aren’t any…pineapples…on my gardening shears. Or gloves.”
I nodded, satisfied. I decided to let the issue of the pineapple plant drop.
Later that afternoon, I received a Facebook message from my pineapple-wearing friend. “I have no idea why it is striking me as so funny that you said ‘Pineapples are really hot right now,’” she wrote, “but I cannot stop laughing every time I replay the moment that you said it over and over in my head!”
Um, dude. Stalker.
Well, word of my pineapple fetish (Holy shit I hope I don’t get any Google hits because of that phrase) got out in our smallish town, and pretty soon, I couldn’t go anywhere without someone saying, “Shay, did you know that pineapples are really hot right now?”
I probably heard it at least twice a day—from different people—every day for a week.
And then came my birthday.
I was taking my kids swimming, and my younger boy made it to the landing before I did. He opened the front door and said excitedly, “Mommy! There a present outside!”
I could barely contain my own excitement as I rushed down the stairs, opened the front door, and grabbed the bag. I’ve never made it a secret that I LOVE presents, and in fact, I will normally remind all of my friends about my birthday via Facebook at least a week in advance so that they have time to get me something nice.
I reached into the tissue paper and felt cotton.
No—it couldn’t be—
They wouldn’t have—
I pulled it out of the bag and get this: It was my very own pineapple shirt. My very own pineapple shirt.
It, too, was a white v-neck. This one, though, had miniature gold pineapples all over it—which technically broke the one-pineapple rule, but I figured it was okay since they were all on one item of clothing.
I put it on that very afternoon, watching out the window for God and thunderbolts as I pulled it over my head—just to make sure. When I didn’t see either, I ventured outside to wear it while I watched over my kids playing. As it normally happens, kids started to meander to and from all of the yards in our close-knit neighborhood.
One was a 7th grade boy whom I’ve known since he was 6 years old. “Hey, Shay,” he said nonchalantly. “I like your shirt with the pineapples all over it.”
He wasn’t even being a smartass, you guys. He wasn’t.
And if he was, well, I was oblivious, so it still counts as a compliment, right?
If I’ve said it once this summer, I’ve said it a million times: Pineapples are really hot right now.
Summer's almost over, but not to worry. There are long-sleeved and sweatshirt varieties for fall and winter. Trust me, I checked.
If you're interested, here's a link where you can get one.
But only one--at a time, at least...lest you want to burn in Hell. *Shudder*