I have a story about Paris. Well, really, it's a story about love, but isn't that just a story about Paris?

In LA, I was everything but comfortable. My heart was perpetually racing as I weaved through traffic, late for an open mic in Burbank, where I’d perform five minutes of mediocre stand up comedy and bomb.

When I was younger, my mom and I would stay inside for an entire Saturday watching rom coms. In the morning, we’d walk to the movie rental store and leave with a paper bag full of laminated DVDs, giddy in anticipation of watching incompatible people find love in low rise jeans.

I just want to talk about bananas for a moment if you’d be so kind to allow me.