Neti Pot, Banana Phone

What a strange week.

On a trip to Wal-Mart I saw something a nurse friend recommended last winter:

This little puppy is a humidifier - it releases steam, only steam that smells like comfort and sinus clarity - thanks to some scented oils you pour in a cup on the top. As a frequent suffererer of sinus infections, which is like bottled misery, I was lamenting last winter. But, what ho! A weapon against the evil spoils of winter: a $13, steam-producing wellness machine.

But that made me go over to the allergy aisle to get the scented oil for the steam to heat, which made me see this:It's a neti pot. Don't laugh, I saw it on Oprah. It was also given glowing recommendations from allergy/sinus suffererers. I've been intrigued ever since. Here's why John wasn't keen on the idea, and my brother swore not to ever talk to me again if I got one:

Because this is what you do with it. If you're unclear on what you're seeing - well, you mix the saline solution in the pot, put the tip to your nose, and tilt the pot. Gravity does the rest. And by "rest," I mean, gravity pours the water into your nose, which subsequently means up your nose, through your sinuses, and out the other nostril. I need to do this sometime when Angie's seven-year-old son is over: it would totally make his day.

"But," you say, "aren't you generally uncoordinated, graceless, and without the ability to exercise spatial intelligence? And doesn't going under water make you splutter if you don't plug your nose?"

Well, if you put it like that, yes. But I read the directions, and most importantly, followed them, so when I felt it hit, I stayed calm.

"But," you say, "didn't you mention a banana phone in the title?"

Well, if you put it like that, yes. I ran across this sucker today:

Now, I've been talking into bananas for years. But never with actual phones in them. Don't ask. After I found this hot little item, this correspondence occurred with Emily:

ME: OH MY GOSH A BANANA PHONE.

EMILY: You may revel in the knowledge that this exists, but I forbid you to buy one.

Emily,
It’s a banana. It’s a phone. It’s a mind-blowing phenomenon.
I’ve been talking into bananas for years; they’ve just never talked back.
But now?
"There’s always money in the banana stand."

You don’t have a cell phone.

That’s because I didn’t have a banana.
OH MY GOSH
Please don’t be jealous. It’s just that fruit makes any phone call a party.
I have two choices.

1. I can say, “You silly ape! Your logic is driving me bananas.”

Or

2. I can say, “Elizabeth, I’m going to peel a banana, blend the fruit with some cayenne pepper and garlic, refill the peel with the mashy mix, suture it closed, and then stick it up your butt if you don’t get some sense soon.”

Hmm. Which one should I pick? 

Ah, friends. The spice of life. Emily, I think you're just jealous of my neti pot. I know you want one. Who wouldn't?