May 17, 2005

Viva la Primate! Viva la Jones New York!

We went out to eat, and Maisy kept insisting she saw a monkey. She was standing up in our highbacked booth, saying, MOMMY LOOKITTA MONKEY! A MONKEY! *point point*

I didn't see a monkey. She insisted, hooting and making monkey noises and pointing. I scanned the walls for a picture with a monkey in it. Nope. I checked the bar rail for some sort of figurine. Nothin'.

SEE DAT MONKAY, MOMMY??? A MONKEY! She really wanted me to find this phantom monkey. I scanned the room again and then I shook my head and looked away. The moment I gave up and quit seeking it, the monkey resolved itself in my peripheral vision. It was like that huge blocky billboard that used to be by the highway in Penscaola, Florida that LOOKED like a bunch of nonsensical blocks of color, but when you gave up trying to puzzle it out and put your eyes back on the highway, the WHITE parts would pop out you, visually shrieking the word, "JESUS!" and you would run off the road at 55 miles an hour and smash into a tree and get to meet the guy whose name had just assaulted you much, much sooner than you may have liked. So it was with Maisy's monkey. I could suddenly see him.

Of course, it wasn't actually a monkey. It was a hair-do.

Sitting with its back to us in another highbacked booth, it was a hair-do that looked EXACTLY LIKE A MONKEY. The person attached to the hair-do had spent a considerable amount of time teasing and spraying and back-combing her monkey-brown locks into a MIGHTY EDIFICE a-top her head. It had a pot-bellied monkey body for a base and a long curly tendril tail and two little braid-like twisty bits meeting over the belly as skinny monkey arms and then perched at the apex was a purely decorative bun-like round bit that made up his head. If the hair-do's conveyance had glued some googly eyes to that portion, she could have passed, from the back, for a stuffed animal.

If hair-doing was an X-Treme sport, the monkey would have paws-down won. It was rural Georgia mall hair taken several fathoms deeper than its logical conclusion (which was, if you are wondering, the week-old bee-hive, kept fresh-ish via elaborate bed-time tissue wrapping ceremonies). The monkey-hair, more than anything, assured me I was HOME. Trust me, oh my goslings, they don't got no monkey-bunned ladies keeping Breck's stock value up in VERMONT. And in Chicago, such a hair-do would act as a parasail; you would be lifted by it, carried far out over the lake, and dumped to drown.

Not that I am knocking Vermont. Vermont has my friend Mir in it (or did last weekend anyway) and it has Bob Gray and Northshire Bookstore (on a more permanent basis) and it has the OUTLET MALLS! OH MY LORD! The outlet malls where I WON shopping, snapping up a Jones New York suit with blouse and cami and also some deep cranberry sling-backs with four inch heels (Swag that would have cost, retail, well in excess of seven hundred bucks) for a MERE $150. A WINNER IS ME!!!

It would have been $200, but Mir accosted this woman ahead of us in line...the woman had tried to use a 25% off coupon, but she FAILED to actually use it because her things were from the super-double-no-more-off--supreme-desperation-move-this-stock clearance rack. As she tried to leave the store, coupon unused, Mir wrestled her to the ground and beat her in the face until she yielded it, thus saving me another 50 bucks.

You know what they ALSO have in Vermont? ASSERTIVENESS! I need to get me a little baggy of that next time I am up in New England.

If you want to read more about SHOPPING and what happened later post-shopping and post-event when Mir and her friend Eileen and the Warner Rep (Conan) and my friend Erica and I all met up to begin the EPIC END OF TOUR DRINKING...well then. Mir has written an Homeric Odyssey of the entire experience. complete with many pictures...some of which I am going to have to PAY HER TO TAKE DOWN because I look like a CRACK-MONKEY. But oh well.

And yeah I will tell you the WORM ATTACK! story she refers to at some point. Right after I tell you what happened when I went skating in fuzzy pink socks. Ice Skating, I believe it was. In the bowels of Hell. I was with my dear pointy-headed betailed friends, Belzaphestus and Meazzophaline. So, in other words, could happen any day now. No, really.

Posted by joshilyn at May 17, 2005 7:25 AM
Comments

THIS is why a woman must always carry a digital camera in her handbag. (Or even one of those toy pen-sized digital cameras, like the one I picked up at Wal-Mart for $17.) We will forever have to let the monkey 'do live only in our imaginations...when surely the real thing would put that version to shame...

Posted by: Marilyn at May 17, 2005 7:31 AM

But, um, Joss? YOU'RE PRETTY!! (And you just TRY to tell me you don't LOVE the picture of us together, because I look like some weird cross between Pinocchio and Mr. Ed in that shot and I LOVE IT even so, so you can just shaddup right now.)

For the record: before I met you, I pink puffy heart-ed you. Now I GIGANTIC GLITTERY SPARKLY RED HEART you. Honestly. (Of course, now YOU are AFRAID of ME, but sometimes that's the price I have to pay.)

The story of the worms needs to be told. As does the saga of my beating you (I forgot that, last night), and the sad story of the apple green wedges, and GOOD HEAVENS woman, I didn't say a WORD about the CANOPY on your BED.

Posted by: Mir at May 17, 2005 8:10 AM

I can't imagine. I am the woman who only buys off the "this is being given away for free to get rid of it now" rack.

Posted by: Heather at May 17, 2005 2:13 PM

For crying out loud, woman, my whole life is breastfeeding and grass stains. I'm living vicariously through you, here, so bring on the worm story! And the apple green shoe story! And I want to know about the canopy on your bed AND YES, DARNIT, I WANT THE PINK FUZZY SOCK STORY TOO! Because it's all about ME. Thank you!

umm, p.s.? You're pretty.

Posted by: Amy at May 17, 2005 5:21 PM

You're both pretty. I'm glad that you enjoyed Vermont and I'm glad that everyone was pretty.

Monkey hair. I believe that Monkey hair was the new hair in the spring Vogue. Monkey hair is the new bee-hive. Don't you know anything?

Britney is now all about Monkey hair. Maisy was right to spot a fashion trend at its hot point. Rumors are that Brad left Jen because of an argument about Monkey hair. Why am I capitalizing Monkey hair? Because its going to be a pop cultural phenomenon. That's why!

Go Gods!

Posted by: Waylon at May 17, 2005 10:11 PM

As Mir was rassling that poor woman to the ground and beating her in the face I would have looked on admiringly and pointed out to anyone that would listen, "that's my girl."
I'm glad you all enjoyed the trip.
I may be one of the few people reading your blog to whom you can not say "YOUR PRETTY".

Oh, by the way, I loved your book.

Posted by: Mir's dad at May 17, 2005 10:34 PM

Mmmmmm, outlet shopping! I'm glad you had a wonderful time. It sounds like you had a blast!

Posted by: Jenny at May 20, 2005 12:54 AM