Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Don't Touch the Monkeys
I was hiking on a mountain in Xichuan province with a couple of friends. Now, I was really looking forward to this hike, because we were going to see wild monkeys, and I had never seen wild monkeys. I know, you would think someone from Wisconsin would see them everyday, but no.
So, we get to the portion of the trail where the wild monkeys are supposed to be, and there are all of these signs telling us to put our food away, but no monkeys. Now the chances of me climbing a mountain without a Coke in hand are approximately 0%, so I do not heed the signs telling me to put it away.*
With no monkeys in sight, we keep climbing the trail in search of the monkeys. Shortly, we turn a corner, and there are probably 100 people milling about, feeding a pack/horde/gaggle of large, wild monkeys. The monkeys (and people) are everywhere. Of course, like the fool I am, I just run on up to the first monkey I see, overly excited to see the monkeys.
This monkey immediately grabs my unfinished Coke from my hand and scampers up a nearby tree. I am evidently very upset by this, as several Chinese tourists come and gather around me to watch me, the foreigner, getting extremely agitated over a dime's worth of Coke (there was yelling and wild gesturing involved). My agitation does not disturb the monkey, who promptly opens the bottle of Coke and takes a swig.
Eventually, having no way to get my Coke back (and really, did I want a Coke that a monkey had been drinking out of?), I move to plan B - touch a monkey!
Now, I knew these monkeys were wild animals, but I had never seen wild animals come up to people like this - the only wild animals I had seen who were this tame always allowed themselves to be touched (what can I say, before this my only experience feeding wild animals came with deer). It was quite exciting.
As an American abroad, I decide that the best idea here is to disobey the many signs I had seen coming up the mountain, and feed one of these monkeys. I grab a cracker out of my backpack and hold it out for a very large, male monkey nearby the monkey who is happily sipping my Coke.
This new monkey grabs the cracker and sits down right in front of me - perfect! I reach out an arm and touch him. My fingers had barely glanced his hair when the monkey goes crazy, beating on my legs. I jump up, and the monkey continues hitting my legs with his monkey fists. And it hurts! Finally, the monkey tires of beating me up, and goes to beg other people for more crackers.**
My friends, who have witnessed both of these incidents, are laughing hysterically. However, the group of Chinese tourists around us are not so amused. All of the old women in the group (a surprising number, considering we were climbing a mountain) come up to me, tell me not to touch the monkeys, and give me a slap to the shoulder to drive the point home.
Later on the trail, we saw signs telling us not to touch the monkeys, because they bite. There was even a monkey bite first-aid station. So, evidently, I was not the first foreigner to think that the monkeys wanted me to pet them.
The moral? Don't touch the monkeys.
*The best option for a hike? Nope. Do I care? Nope.
** Like I was going to give a monkey who beat me up any more crackers. Stupid monkey.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Cougars = Scary
Supposedly, this cougar walked from South Dakota to Chicago. Which means that, on its way to the alley where it met its death, the cougar passed right through my backyard! I have included a helpful map for those of you who are not geographically inclined, to illustrate that the cougar came through Madison on its way to Chicago:
As further proof of this visit to my fine home, I have certain pictures of the cougar in Madison that prove that this (now dead) cougar stopped by on his way to Chicago:
As you can clearly see, while he was here in Madison, the cougar decided to stop for pictures at the Capitol, followed by drinks down at the Union. Or perhaps a trip on a sailboat. The picture doesn't make his intentions at the Union entirely clear.
P.S. - Dorkiest. Post. Ever.
P.P.S. - Or at least for today. I hope.
*I enjoy that the picture accompanying the article includes a nearby moped and gas can. Although I am not sure what the purpose of including these items in the picture was, I will guess that it was to imply that the cougar was about to steal both the moped and the (more valuable) gas, thus giving police another reason to kill him. You know, something other than the fact that he was a cougar in a densely populated urban area.
Monday, April 21, 2008
A Letter
Dear Person Who Stole the CDs Out of My Car:
Hi. My name is Sarah. You don't know me, but perhaps you remember my car - the black Saturn in a downtown Madison office building? With the Wisconsin plates? With the George Bush sticker on the back? And the Notre Dame and Northwestern stickers in the window? That would be my car. Evidently, you felt the need to break into it, so I am guessing you might be familiar with the car.
Now, I know that when you cased the parking lot, the outward signs of the car probably implied that there might be something of value in it. I mean, really, if I were to choose a car, my first thought would be that my Saturn, which clearly states "A Republican lawyer owns this car!" is a better choice to steal something from than the Prius down the row, most likely owned by a hippie holdover who is probably carrying around nothing but hemp bags of items to be recycled.
However, my second thought would be, "Those stickers in the back? The ones that clearly state the owner's alma maters? Those indicate that the owner of this car has a great deal of student debt, and therefore nothing of value will be in this car. Also, the fact that this lawyer is driving a 2002 Saturn? This further indicates that there is nothing of value in this car. I think, perhaps, I should go grab those recyclables, as I will both gain something of value, and help the Earth while I am at it! Also, the likelihood of getting shot by the owner of a Prius is probably less likely than by the owner of this Saturn, who, based on the stickers on this car, is likely a member of the NRA."
Obviously, you never got to my second thought, as you chose to ignore the Prius in favor of stealing from my Saturn.
Now, I know that in the first paragraph I may have implied that you broke into my car. My own history of less-than-stellar following of security measures, and the lack of any broken windows in the car implies that I *might* have left it unlocked. However, I am going to remind you that stealing, even from a car that is unlocked, is wrong. You know, the opposite of right. As in, this was such a biggie rule that God Himself felt the need to let Moses know about it. You know, that whole, "You shall not steal" thing (see Deuteronomy 5:19, if you are in need of a refresher on this particular Commandment. While you're looking up that one, perhaps you should take a look at the rest of the Commandments. Or, if you're feeling particularly ambitious, the whole Book).
I will let you know that this is not the first time someone has felt the need to steal something from me. However, I am going to take special comfort in this particular theft, as the sole thing you appear to have wanted to steal from me was the stellar collection of mix CDs that I have accumulated over the last two or three years. Yes, that's right, you did not get a single CD that I have not downloaded from iTunes. In case you're wondering, this means that nothing you stole from me has any actual resale value. So, while I had to spend several hours of my life fooling around on iTunes and reburning these mix CDs, your theft was more of an inconvenience for me than anything else. I am only partially employed at the moment, so I have plenty of time to do this. And, truth be told, I rather enjoyed this whole process. I mean, the part after I had to get through the twenty minute ride home without my CDs.
Seeing as how you seem to have had no desire to steal anything but my mix CDs, this tells me that, even though you are lacking in the ability to tell right from wrong, you have excellent musical taste. I had no idea that there was someone else who wanted three Bryan Adams CDs! And I know you're going to love my "17 Reasons Not to Get Drunk and Download Songs on iTunes" mix - 70s Southern rock forever! I think you'll especially enjoy the four Spice Girls songs I felt belonged on my "Girlie Pop Songs" CD, not to mention the Geri Halliwell song that also seemed like it belonged perfectly on that particular mix CD. Really, how can you not love remakes of "It's Raining Men?"
Also, I am happy to see that there were certain items in the car that you felt were not worth stealing. For example, the $20 that I had stashed in the nifty door storage on the driver's side? Thanks for leaving that. I had found it on the ground, and kept forgetting to put it in the collection basket at church. My church thanks you, because your little theft reminded me that it was there. If you're in need of a Bible to look up that pesky Commandment thing we talked about earlier, I am sure they would be more than happy to help you look it up.
And the six pairs of shoes in the backseat? I don't know where I would find another perfect pair of purple polka dot shoes. Or, for that matter, the $350+ I would need to replace those six pairs of shoes even if I could find proper replacements. No, they aren't premier designer shoes, but I didn't get them at Payless, either. I am pretty sure someone would have bought them off of you on eBay for a nice amount.
But mostly, I'm quite happy you didn't see fit to look in the glove compartment of the car. As you may recall from earlier in this letter, I occasionally let security slide. Which explains why, at the time you saw fit to steal my mix CDs, the extra set of keys to my car was approximately two feet away from where the CDs were sitting, lying on the top of my maps and manuals in the unlocked glove compartment. So thank you for having more interest in my worthless mix of Jimmy Buffett songs than, you know, my actual car.
Sincerely,
Sarah
P.S. - The extra keys are now safely tucked away somewhere other than my car. I have, however, burned new Bryan Adams CDs, which are sitting on the front seat. In case you have already worn out the three that you stole and are in need of new ones.
A Day In The Life
So, I thought today would be a good day to chronicle my supremely interesting, more or less unemployed lifestyle. Because, obviously, that’s something that people want to read about.
8:00 – I wake up, and give myself total props for being up at a normal hour.*
4:01 – I remember that the internet is working only intermittently at my parents’ house, and have been too lazy to do anything about it, like figure out the problem and fix it (which will probably only require me to turn the modem on and off, but um, yeah, the modem is all the way upstairs, and I am not, so I can wait until I go home to read the Drudge Report). But, Miss Prepared that I am, I realize I have a jump drive in my bag and I can just write the post and go back to the book, then post later. Because it has definitely been worth your time to read all of this. That’s right, two minutes of your life you can never get back.
*Yes, I realize that when I was working regularly, the idea of waking up at 8:00 a.m. would have been a wonderful (yet almost incomprehensible) idea. But really? I love that I haven’t seen a sunrise in several months. I was getting sick and tired of those things by the end of last summer. Sunrises? Overrated. Particularly when you’re already at your desk for the day. Sunsets? Particularly with a lake, boat, and margarita involved? Totally underrated.**However, without these stirring accounts of the game, would I have realized that Jimmy Clausen is going bald? Most definitely not.
***Any snickering about how this parallels my own life is probably (read: definitely) deserved at this point.
50 Word Review: In a Sunburned Country
In a Sunburned Country
By Bill Bryson
The 50 Word Review:
Unlike the last Bryson book I read, this latest book of his that I read was quite funny. Now, I want to go to Australia even more than before (which would be easier if, say, I had any money).
50 Word Review: Bright Lights, Big Ass
Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why It Often Sucks in the City, or Who Are These Idiots and Why Do They All Live Next Door to Me?
By Jen Lancaster
The Review:
See my review of Bitter Is The New Black. Oh yes, I am that lazy.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
50 Word Review: The Founding Fish
The Founding Fish
By John McPhee
The Review:
For a book found in the history aisle, with a title implying that it will contain a great amount of history, this book contains very little history - or anything worth reading, for that matter. As an added bonus (that's some sarcasm for you), there is a last chapter lecture!
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Good Things in Baseball
Gotta love early season baseball (and hope that it lasts for the rest of the season).