Going to the place to get the stuff for the thing

There are three reasons I know it's time for a new blog post:

1. It's been a rather long time since I warned you all of Monkey Doom
2. I am almost over my raging jetlag
3. I have a take-home test that is due tomorrow at 9am... and I have yet to begin

First of all, I'd like to thank those of you who took my warnings of Monkey-Death Encounter to heart.  They will eat your face off and you will not be amused.

Second, I would like to give one last declaration of undying love and affection to singer of my heartsong, Sonya Rae.  Thanks to her, I had one of my best vacations and I continue to be sad that neither of us is into the ladies, because I think we'd be a power couple that would rival Ellen and Portia.

Just saying.

Anyway, here are a few thoughts I've had over the past week:

• Eating Chinese food after 10pm doesn't count

• I wish people here would quit trying to convince me to be outdoorsy.

• I have tried discussing the NCAA bracket with a handful of guys I know here in NC and none of them care.  WHERE HAVE ALL THE MEN GONE???

• Most of my celebrity crushes are age-inappropriate.  For example, Matt Lauer, John Cusack, Jon Stewart, Daniel Craig and Anthony Edwards.

• Boondock Saints 2 sucked giant squid wontons.

• My brother is much cooler than I am.  Actually, I've always known this, but he just left to go on tour and I feel there are few things cooler than that.

• I hate the Toaster Streudel commercial where that snotty girl talks down to her friend with the Pop-Tart.  Don't get me wrong.  I love Toaster Streudels, but have you ever heard any child complain because she got a Pop-Tart?  Hell no!

• I lived in Indiana for 15 years, attended Indiana University and love Gene Hackman, but have yet to see the movie Hoosiers.  And I'm okay with that.

• Eating half a bag of marshmallows and a butt-load of tater tots in one sitting does little for one's digestive system.

• I hope all of Canada recognizes my profession by the time I graduate so I can move to Vancouver, eat maple syrup and be really polite.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to watch TV for an hour, get some takeout and then consider the possibility of starting to think about completing my take-home test.

Maybe.

Monkey see, monkey do, monkey eat your face off

My last day in Hong Kong started pleasantly enough.

Sonya and I woke up, spooned, had some breakfast and made plans for the day.

As a final activity, Sonya suggested this place called Monkey Hill where macaque monkeys go to see and be seen without boundaries or fences stifling their individuality.  It sounded like fun.

I mean, monkeys are cute and whimsical, right?  What's not to like?

We arrived at the park and soon realized it was less of a Monkey Starbucks where the macaques go to socialize and write poetry and more of a five mile hike in a forest.

At the beginning of the trail was a sign instructing us how to prevent a Monkey Attack.  Most of it was self-explanatory stuff telling us not to feed the monkeys or have food at all, not to tease the monkeys, not to use flash photography and not to look them directly in the eye.

Oh, foreshadowing...

We walked for about an hour, coming across two or three monkeys that mostly ignored us from the trees.  We assumed it was Monkey Nap-time and went about our business.

Once we'd walked for a little while, we decided we should head back.

But first, we decided to take a picture on the Monkey Altar.

This is where things started to get uncivilized.

As we made our way back, we noticed more and more monkeys collecting on the trail and up in the trees.  Suddenly, it seemed like they were everywhere.

I was getting nervous, but reminded myself that they're used to people and shouldn't be that interested in either of us as we didn't have food and weren't challenging them to a dance-off.

The trail, I should mention, was rather narrow and Sonya and I had to walk single file.  So, when a monkey was sitting smack in the middle of the trail, it was almost impossible to go around it without basically stepping over it.

And that's exactly what happened.

As we walked, two monkeys had set up shop in the center of the trail.  I looked behind us and saw a few more coming down the way.

"Sonya!" I hissed.  "They know we desecrated the Monkey Altar!   It's a trap!"

At this point, I think we were both on Monkey Alert.

We were stationary for a few minutes, trying to look nonchalant while hoping the two blocking the trail would become inspired and head off to work on their respective novels.

No such luck.

As I was in front, Sonya suggested I climb over a giant rock on the side of the trail to somewhat bypass the two blocking our escape.

As calmly and quickly as I could, I took her advice and successfully moved beyond Monkey Impasse.  I thought Sonya was behind me but soon learned she had not been as lucky.

I looked back and saw that she was sandwiched between the rock and 3 monkeys who had cornered her.  One was particularly interested in her and slowly started moving toward her.

Sonya was completely frozen.

I was probably 20 feet away and completely paralyzed.  I was desperately trying to dig deep into the recesses of my National Geographic and Animal Planet education to think of anything I could use to help her.

The same monkey was completely fixated on her, just staring at her.  All of a sudden, it made an awful noise that the internet calls a grunt.

And all I could think to say was, "Don't look at it!"

It opened its mouth, baring its teeth and actually faked a lunge.

Sonya ran.  I ran.

We ran out of that awful place, praying to the Monkey Gods that they weren't following us to make us pay for desecrating the Monkey Altar with flash photography.

Poor Sonya has a brand new phobia and I have reinforced my pre-existing idea that I DO NOT BELONG IN NATURE.

As it turns out, the deck was stacked against us from the beginning:

• Monkeys don't like water bottles, sunglasses or jewelry because they're shiny (we had all of these)
• Monkeys don't like backpacks or large bags because they know it's where we tend to keep the food
• Monkeys are far more likely to attack women and children than men
• Monkeys are made from mayonnaise and evil

Thank God they weren't packing heat.


**I'm removing the ability to post anonymously because I'm sick of spam.  I would like to apologize to Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker.  It's not me, it's you.

Planes, trams and emergency landings

I don't know where I parked my car.

All I remember from 4:00 Thursday morning is that I was running late.  Horribly, painfully late.

The fact that I even made my first flight from Charlotte to JFK is a gift.  I caught that gnome of a plane only after making a dramatic dash through the terminal and a brisk little jaunt on the tarmac.

Our hobbit plane, however, ended up making an emergency landing in Norfolk due to the poor old gentleman on the flight that was having a stroke.

Once we got him safely to the EMTs waiting, we re-routed that mess and made it to New York an hour later.

The flight from New York to Tokyo wasn't bad.  For whatever reason, I couldn't sleep much.  So, instead I watched New Moon, Whip It and another movie that completely escapes me... so apparently, it was quite good.  I also watched an episode of 30 Rock, Parks and Recreation, CSI, The Mentalist, NCIS, Man vs. Food, and many more.

As a side note, let me just say that by the end of my traveling, I was intensely sick of thanking all the rich people for being rich.

"Thank you for choosing Delta!  We'd like to take a minute to thank our super shiny golden fancy members for flying with us.  We do appreciate your business and are so glad you have more money than the people we just sandwiched in the back.  Keep making money and thanks again!"

Don't get me wrong.  If I had the means, I'd be flying "business class" all the damn time.  However, I would be a little embarrassed to have someone spewing gratitude at me, knowing full well that the people behind me were wishing that my mimosa was infused with another person's bodily fluids.

The flight from Tokyo to Hong Kong was boring and I had a far greater desire to sleep.  Somewhere in the middle of unconsciousness and lucidity, I realized that I have no idea where I parked my car.  That should be fun when I get back.

While in line at immigration, I started to panic.  I thought perhaps I had read the information on Hong Kong incorrectly and that I was supposed to get a visa and that I'd spend 4 or 5 days in Airport Jail.

I always do this.  Even when I'm in line to check in for a domestic flight.  Suddenly, I think I got the time wrong, the date is wrong or I left my ID in the freezer next to the english muffins.

Luckily, I didn't need the visa (which I knew all along) and made my way to the most beautiful sight in the world.

Sonya Rae.

She was jumping and waving and then ran at me as soon as I was at a safe distance from other travelers.

We made a good American spectacle in a way that only Sonya can bring out in me.

She guided me in my jetlagged stupor to her wonderful hotel where she ordered me food and pet my head.

I'm going to be singing her praises all week until everyone wants to chuck, so grab your vomit bags and get used to it.

I am now sitting at her computer while she works and am happy that I'll have time to blog while all of this is still fresh in my mind grapes.

Now, as a gift to my host country, I am going to shower.

I'm getting Cantonese on your asses

I'm going to Hong Kong, baby!

One of the loves of my life, Sonya Rae, lives and works in Kowloon, HK and I'm going to get all up in her fortune cookie over Spring Break.

This brilliant, peach of a woman has been bugging me to visit her for many months.  And every time, I gave her the same answer.

"No money.  No flighty."

Well, this time around, she wasn't having it.

She said, "You get your butt over here now so I can pet your head."

I lovingly replied, "*Monkey mittens, I cannot afford it," to which she came back with, "I'll find you a cheap flight and pay for half of it."

I said, "Uhhh... okay."

I lived with her for three months in China and never once tried to kill her, making it one of my most successful relationships to date.

She is one of the sweetest, most generous, loving people I've ever known and chances are that I will jump into her arms when I see her and we will hold each other for a while, making all the locals uncomfortable.  I know this because it's what we did the last time we met in an airport.

She is the Funshine Bear to my Bedtime Bear.

I mean, when am I going to have this chance again?  And when will I have this good of a reason to go?  Probably never. 

Sonya, my love, I will see you in 3 weeks!

So... which Care Bear would you be?


*This is really how we talk to each other, by the way.

Don't sweat the small stuff? Girl, bitte.

If you recorded my actions and speech for 24 hours on any given day, you would learn very quickly that I am all about the details.

Does this mean I'm detail-oriented? Heck no. Does this mean I have excellent attention to detail? Not in the way you might think. Does this mean I need to attend a national conference regarding the newly vital subject of synergy? I certainly hope so.

This simply means that I am easily affected (both positively and negatively) by little things... but honestly, who isn't? Everybody has a handful of idiosyncrasies they received at birth (although there are those who definitely went back for seconds when God was dishing out the crazy). Luckily, most people have different combinations of personal pleasures and pet peeves.

For example, my friend Sonya Rae does not like to wait... for anything. She's a woman of action and I think it ever so slightly chips away at her soul when someone says to her, "Just a minute" (I know this from personal experience, by the way). She usually responds with, "Nope, right now."

In the way of personal pleasures, my college roommate, Cara, absolutely loves things related to organization and ambition. If you want to get her all giddy and worked up, just show her your briefcase or your Filofax (and no, those are not euphemisms). I once got her school supplies for her birthday, if that paints a better picture.

My friend Lises Pieces is annoyed by sneezing. This applies to both the sneezes of others as well as her own. She can't really explain it, either. I actively enjoy sneezing, so I can't really wrap my mind around this, but I've got my own jar just overflowing with crap that makes no sense, so I don't judge.

My brother has a lot of pet peeves, most of which I would guess are related to music and stupid people, or some combination of the two. I recently learned, however, that there was a giant squid sighting about 4 years ago, and this got Sam all sorts of excited (a feat not easily accomplished). Never would've guessed.

Now, for those of you who know me, you are aware that I get easily excited as well as completely bent out of shape by really small, stupid things.

About two years ago, a friend and I went to Panera for lunch. When I go to Panera, I would say 90% of the time, I get the Frontega Chicken sandwich. It's completely delicious and about 2/3 of my daily caloric intake. It's about the only reason I go to Panera (although they do have excellent coffee) and I see nothing wrong with that. This is the conversation that took place:

Me: I'd like the Frontega, please.
Jackass Panera Employee: We're out.
Me: I'm sorry?
JPE: We're out.
Me: For how long?
JPE: Until we get more.
Me: I'm sorry, I guess I'm missing something. Can you not just... make more?
JPE: No, we're out.

I'm aware, on some level, that this is not the end of the world, but at the time (and even in retrospect), I was pretty irritated and allowed this small injustice to consume me for the next half hour or so. I just sat there, eating my sub-par sandwich and making snarky comments under my breath. Is that a valuable use of my time and energy? Probably not, but the thing is... I don't care.

On the flip side, I had a minor experience this morning that made me downright perky. I came to work with coffee and a breakfast sandwich, both of which were highly enjoyable. When I finished my coffee, I realized I had an urgent matter to take care of involving my morning regularity.

While I'm aware that everybody poops (that's right, I read the book), I think most people prefer to do it in the privacy of their own home, me included. So, at work, timing becomes very important. If you go too soon (between 8-9am), you run into the custodial staff. If you wait too long (9:30-11am), you run into people who are having the same urges. So you see, there's a very small window for privacy, and even then, it's not guaranteed.

This morning, however, I had the whole 7-stall bathroom to myself. OUTSTANDING.

I am still so happy about this that I'll probably mention it in at least 3 of the e-mails I'll be sending later this afternoon.

Other small things that will make my day:

Flossing
Seeing a squirrel fall out of a tree (trust me, it's funny)
Breakfast for dinner
When the temperature is above freezing
Being the first person to open and use the new peanut butter

Other small things that will ruin my day:

Manilla folder cut (ten times worse than your standard paper cut)
Hearing "Harper Valley PTA" on the radio
Any computer error or malfunction
Seeing any Olive Garden commercial, but especially the one with the giggly college girl
Finding mayo on my sandwich after I SPECIFICALLY ASKED FOR NO MAYO

So, whether you are enraged by double-sided tape or completely delighted with people who overuse the word "duties", I think it is not only logical to sweat the small stuff, it should be required.