A Fridge Too Far
How our kitchen wall became a micro-meme
Is Bananarama one word or two?
Even if it’s not in reference to the band, one word is correct; -rama is a suffix, not a word itself. That is, unless the writer meant the Hindu god, or small town in Ontario. But in all-caps, it was hard to know. It’s not a rama of bananas, but it was certainly a bananarama.
The words appeared written across two lines and underlined, accompanied by a sketched banana and situated on a wall just above an actual bowl of bananas.
The kitchen at PeopleLikeUs has an expansive whiteboard wall. It’s used for jotting down grocery requests, scoring party games, and from time to time, work. But in an agency full of creative people who fancy themselves funny, it’s not unusual for a doodle to appear. It’s also not unusual for them to get analyzed and scrutinized. What was unusual is what this particular doodle germinated.
The artist had initiated a micro-meme next to our microwave. The Bananarama doodle had the right appeal to become fruitful in encouraging more food-themed drawings. To that point, there was a debate about whether it looked more like a banana or an elf’s severed foot. That means it was interesting enough to talk about, but not so good that it would intimidate other would-be artists. However, as with most internet memes, it was likely created to be a one-time thing without the artist’s intention for others to reproduce, imitate, or riff.
For context, Bananarama appeared during a golden age in PeopleLikeUs banana consumption, so the rationale was clear. As was the Apple Chapel that was drawn days later when the bananas had been usurped by a bowl of crisp, red Galas. Those first two drawings were observations or even labels for what was available in the kitchen, almost like a board boasting “Today’s Specials”. Then, more drawings appeared in rapid succession. Lime Time and Peach Beach may have appeared within the same hour, despite there being neither limes, nor peaches available. Neither were there berries, lemons, or pears for Berry Ferry, Citron Salon, and Pear in a Chair at a Fair.
One artist may have been responsible for all of the doodles or perhaps a group colluded and coordinated their illustrations. One could say that the artist(s) were anonymous pomplemousse. Despite the unknowns in motive and involved parties, there appeared to be simple unspoken rules:
- Name a fruit
- Put it with a word that rhymes, preferably a place.
The doodle quality and handwriting varied more as more illustrations were added. The concept had taken root and the participants had grown from the core group that seeded the idea and even in this fresh crop, drawings were still being doodled anonymously. Naturally, as more people participated, more opinions were represented, more senses of humour clashed, and more fruit rhymes were used up. After only a week of growth, the fruit rhymes turned and the inspiration had dried.
One doodle marked the end of the rhyme thyme:
On that day, orange rhymed with anarchy.
The concept had been peeled open and colleagues were drawing freely and publicly, unembarrassed by their artistic (in)ability or overripe senses of humour. The theme expanded from fruit and into vegetables, then to food in general, and eventually to anything to do with eating at all. Conversations were overheard discussing what was funnier “The Wrap of Khan” or “A Fridge Too Far.” People looked for input in their designs “How do I make Swiss chard look like a Swiss Guard?”
The wall was an all-you-can-eat buffet of terrible puns.
Ownership was taken for some of the earlier designs as the wall became main-stream. People wanted to be associated with the wall’s inception and expansion. As credit was served, insults were tossed. Kitchen conversations were the comments section and it was a food fight.
The wall was filled from ground zero where bananarama was written all of the way over the Banananananananananananana Batman by the fridge on the far side. Drawings were spreading out above and below other doodles to keep the wall fresh. There seemed to always be new illustrations to consume. A viral sensation had sprouted. We had a full fledged micro-meme in our kitchen and it was about to get micro-ier.
A scone was drawn, appearing to scream with its hands upon its cheeks. As much as Edvard Munch’s name would be perfect for this topic, it was actually Macauly Culkin’s homage to that famous scream that was referenced. It was labelled Scone Alone.
Right next to it, a copycat drew Scone Clone. Then Scone Drone, Two Birds one Scone, Scone with the Wind, Sconan O’Brien, Scone’t You Forget About Me, Scone Cold Steve Austin, and more — a baker’s dozen of imitators. Each new scone had the same screaming scone-face. This spread to the point that the PeopleLikeUs Slack gained a scone emoji.
In addition to the Scone Zone, the opposite wall of the kitchen was being populated by non-food related puns and illustrations. Apparently some people were bullied off of the kitchen’s pun wall for making jokes like Sea You Later — which doesn’t involve food at all. Written across the top of the new wall it said “Not a fruit? Not a place? Not a pun? No problem.”
As space on the wall dwindled, so did people’s interest. There were a few people clearly trying to keep the game going, but the masses had moved on. New doodles were drawn between others, getting lost in the noise and going unnoticed. Some colleagues would say something like “Oh, Yamster Wheel! That’s funny, that’s new!” weeks after it was drawn. Bananarama was lost in the panorama to the point that nobody would have noticed if it were erased. The puns had become the background. To paraphrase a doodle with the end of a movie that sounds like it’s about orange juice:
Bread’s dead, baby. Bread’s dead.
To reflect on the kitchen pun wall, perhaps with oeufs miroir, is to analyze the progress of any online trend. Somebody had created something, or perhaps a few people made a few things. Their idea and original content were liked enough or mocked enough to be riffed on and added to by new participants, it grew beyond the control of those who started it, and it ultimately ran its course. In this case it would have been the Main Course. Even without consideration to the offshoot Scone Zone and opposite wall, the main wall had become known as the “Kitchen Pun Wall” despite starting out mostly with rhymes, not with puns. Even Bananarama seemed misplaced next to what it had inspired.
The idea of a kitchen pun wall worked and expanded because the concept hit a sweet spot for ease of participation. The guidelines were only implied, unenforced, and flexible; there was a low time commitment, low standard of quality, and anonymity left no fear or consequence to participating. It was interesting to see what other people could come up with, but even the best drawings and most clever jokes were non-intimidating which is perfect to illicit participation. Nobody was asked to draw, there were no obstacles to start. There was a wall and some markers and it turned into a game because it was easy-cheesy, merry cherry, roll droll, or better yet: it was fun on a bun.
