On my walk home today, I saw a baby bunny. This made me happy, because it is not often that I get to think the phrase, "Holy crap, baby bunny". In general, this is also followed by an internal happy dance. It would be external, except that my immediate response is to freeze up so as not to frighten away the baby bunny before I can convince it to be BFFs forever and ever. I also try to avoid frightening it away so that I can take a picture of it to remember it by if it doesn't buy the BFF bait. Really, I should carry around carrots, because I've noticed carrots are worth a lot more to baby bunnies than the offer of being their friend.
Unfortunately, my potential baby bunny friend scampered away before I could get any photographic evidence of our brief encounter, so all I have are the sweet, sweet memories. Me seeing it. Me thinking, "Holy crap, baby bunny". It hopping away while I got out my camera. Sigh, so many memories. It was probably smart for it to leave, since its baby bunny mind probably can't differentiate between me, a human, versus a hawk, bear, or hawk-bear hybrid (for which I have coined the term "Bawk"). That is how baby bunnies survive to become big bunnies who copulate far too much, allowing for me to have baby bunny treats on my walk home to brighten my day. This is the point where you are free to sing Circle of Life in your head. Okay, now stop because I'm still writing and you should be fully enthralled in this, not Elton John. Elton John can get his own time when I'm done, and I will fully support the two of you at that point.
The baby bunny is just one of many things that have gone right in my life. Yesterday I had my 1st ultimate Frisbee win. It was also the first time that I managed to assist in anything positive happening for my team, thus finally making me a valuable member of society after so many years of freeloading. Next week is play-offs. We are close to the bottom. That's okay though, because if there is anything I've learned from TV movies, it's that those who win early on are (a) usually massive jerks and (b) doomed to embarrassing defeat when the so called losers get their crap together. I'm not certain that we are the so called losers in this scenario, since we don't even seem to have plans for a good training montage, but the key thing is that we're not the skilled but evil team, and that is something to be grateful for.
The one thing I'm worried about is that my devotion to my team and my devotion to being a tame groupie might be tested if our game ends up being scheduled at the same time as the "I Only Date Astronauts" show (8pm at Bread and Circus, next Sunday, June 20...tell your friends). If this happens, I will likely die from my head exploding when I can't decide between the opportunity for a good playoff montage and the chance to call people out on the lack of dancing monkeys (or, alternatively, be amazed and disturbed by the presence of dancing monkeys).
Happy music: Make it Mine by Jason Mraz. This is the song that makes me delusional enough to think it's a good idea to write a play in a month, all the while living the life of a student with no free time. I also like to listen to it when life seems a little busy or mundane or both ("buzdane"...coined it!), because it makes me remember that life is still going on in and around the busy and mundane.
Showing posts with label monkey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label monkey. Show all posts
Monday, June 14, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Things that are scarier than bears
So, I've graduated. Somehow, I feel the same though, only a little more embarrassed, because after graduating, I had a Marilyn Monroe moment on a subway grate downtown. Well, a Marilyn Monroe moment minus the holding it down part. Classy. And I was only afraid I'd fall on stage. Apparently in 22 years of education, I was never taught how to not make a fool of myself. Or I missed that class. Or I was there, but daydreaming about monkey butlers. Actually, that's probably it, because those with monkey butlers need not worry about things like subway grate drafts. Monkey butlers are good that way.
Speaking of monkey butlers, in addition to being a recent graduate, I also became a groupie about a month ago. I wasn't sure that I could actually be a groupie, because I'm pretty tame, but I was told that all types of groupies are needed (all the colours of the rainbow, from skanky to tame). So, I'm a groupie, for a band. A real band. Not in my head at all. The reason I bring this up now, is that they are having a show in June where they have promised dancing monkeys. Although I had already agreed to be a groupie, and thus was obliged to attend, I was also pulled in by the dancing monkeys. However, I'm also concerned about this promise, because, seriously, dancing monkeys? In downtown Toronto? Is that even legal? I'm going to say no.
I'm told that they're working on the dancing monkeys though, which is good, because that's not the kind of promise you should just throw around. People take dancing animals very seriously, and monkeys even moreso. Maybe they have access to a research lab I'm not aware of, and they're going to sneak the monkeys out under a giant lab coat. I hope they've thought this plan through though, because monkeys do not respond well to being shoved in an over sized sleeve, especially if that sleeve contains an arm. It's all the worse if that arm is that of a band drummer, bulked up from excessive drum banging, because lab monkeys like their angry revenge-for-being-shoved-in-a-sleeve meat as lean as possible. Because they've heard about heart health. Overall, animatronic monkeys might be a safer bet. They should try to stick to songs you can dance the robot to.
Today I gained a new fear, one unrelated to terrible bears. Apparently, there were fish going missing in an aquarium and the owners weren't sure what was happening, so they watched nighttime security footage and found out that the octopus in the tank across from it was climbing out of his cage, walking (wait, do they walk, or just sort of shuffle) across the catwalks and eating fish. This is friggin' terrifying, because if an octopus can climb across a catwalk to steal fish, it can climb across a catwalk to drop on my head and suck out my brains (I think that's what they do.) Then, for good measure, a bear will probably jump out to maul me.
In the same conversation where I learned that octopi are evil geniuses, we were discussing the zoo and the degree of awesome that it has. One person mentioned they'd grown up walking distance from a zoo. I thought it was cool, unless a tiger escaped (I believe I may have mentioned this theory in the past). Then, another person said to their mother, "Was it a polar bear that escaped from our zoo?" And I thought, "Holy crap." I don't think I need to add any more to that story at this point, because holy crap.
So that brings me to a happy song. This task seems easier some days than others. To comfort myself about the idea of polar bear escapes, I'm going to go with At the Zoo by Simon and Garfunkel. I don't think it needs anymore explanation than zoos are automatically happy (assuming all the cages are intact) and the zoo keeper is apparently drunk.
I was about to publish this post, when I realized that bear and octopus in the same sentence seemed strangely familiar. Then, I remembered that a few months ago a friend introduced me to the existence of the bear-shark-octopus, but I blacked it out (for obvious, terrifying reasons), until this unfortunate post. Now it's all flooding back, and I'm never sleeping again, which is probably good, because I'll have time to get a lot more done. Of course, most of that time will be spent trying to figure out how to escape a bear shark octopus mauling/biting my arm off/brain sucking. I know that you're supposed to make noise for bears, and hit sharks in the nose, but I haven't heard about octopi. Maybe you just have to somehow confuse them so they tie knots in their many tentacles. It would work in the cartoons, so it would probably work in real life.
Speaking of monkey butlers, in addition to being a recent graduate, I also became a groupie about a month ago. I wasn't sure that I could actually be a groupie, because I'm pretty tame, but I was told that all types of groupies are needed (all the colours of the rainbow, from skanky to tame). So, I'm a groupie, for a band. A real band. Not in my head at all. The reason I bring this up now, is that they are having a show in June where they have promised dancing monkeys. Although I had already agreed to be a groupie, and thus was obliged to attend, I was also pulled in by the dancing monkeys. However, I'm also concerned about this promise, because, seriously, dancing monkeys? In downtown Toronto? Is that even legal? I'm going to say no.
I'm told that they're working on the dancing monkeys though, which is good, because that's not the kind of promise you should just throw around. People take dancing animals very seriously, and monkeys even moreso. Maybe they have access to a research lab I'm not aware of, and they're going to sneak the monkeys out under a giant lab coat. I hope they've thought this plan through though, because monkeys do not respond well to being shoved in an over sized sleeve, especially if that sleeve contains an arm. It's all the worse if that arm is that of a band drummer, bulked up from excessive drum banging, because lab monkeys like their angry revenge-for-being-shoved-in-a-sleeve meat as lean as possible. Because they've heard about heart health. Overall, animatronic monkeys might be a safer bet. They should try to stick to songs you can dance the robot to.
Today I gained a new fear, one unrelated to terrible bears. Apparently, there were fish going missing in an aquarium and the owners weren't sure what was happening, so they watched nighttime security footage and found out that the octopus in the tank across from it was climbing out of his cage, walking (wait, do they walk, or just sort of shuffle) across the catwalks and eating fish. This is friggin' terrifying, because if an octopus can climb across a catwalk to steal fish, it can climb across a catwalk to drop on my head and suck out my brains (I think that's what they do.) Then, for good measure, a bear will probably jump out to maul me.
In the same conversation where I learned that octopi are evil geniuses, we were discussing the zoo and the degree of awesome that it has. One person mentioned they'd grown up walking distance from a zoo. I thought it was cool, unless a tiger escaped (I believe I may have mentioned this theory in the past). Then, another person said to their mother, "Was it a polar bear that escaped from our zoo?" And I thought, "Holy crap." I don't think I need to add any more to that story at this point, because holy crap.
So that brings me to a happy song. This task seems easier some days than others. To comfort myself about the idea of polar bear escapes, I'm going to go with At the Zoo by Simon and Garfunkel. I don't think it needs anymore explanation than zoos are automatically happy (assuming all the cages are intact) and the zoo keeper is apparently drunk.
I was about to publish this post, when I realized that bear and octopus in the same sentence seemed strangely familiar. Then, I remembered that a few months ago a friend introduced me to the existence of the bear-shark-octopus, but I blacked it out (for obvious, terrifying reasons), until this unfortunate post. Now it's all flooding back, and I'm never sleeping again, which is probably good, because I'll have time to get a lot more done. Of course, most of that time will be spent trying to figure out how to escape a bear shark octopus mauling/biting my arm off/brain sucking. I know that you're supposed to make noise for bears, and hit sharks in the nose, but I haven't heard about octopi. Maybe you just have to somehow confuse them so they tie knots in their many tentacles. It would work in the cartoons, so it would probably work in real life.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
I love the zoo, but hate the maulings
Spring is the best time to go to the zoo. Today I went and saw some giraffes mating. Well, kind of. He was trying really hard, but she was having none of it, which made it a thousand times more awesome, watching him get shot down repeatedly.
Animal sex is amusing all on its own, but what makes it much more amusing is listening to parents trying to avoid having to explain what's happening to their little ones through a variety of futile distraction techniques.
While they worked hard to preserve their children's innocence, I took a picture.
I also enjoy taunting animals that would maul me if I ran into them in nature. They mainly ignore it, but I think it affects them more than they let on.
I spent awhile standing behind a tree watching a polar bear and imagining that we were out in the wild in an epic man-against-nature struggle. I was hoping that he would see me and charge, but he only glanced at me briefly with a "Seriously, I can see you, but I'm pretending not to because I'm embarrassed for you," look. And that's when I learned that polar bears are surprisingly expressive. Also, kind of assholes.
Anything monkey or monkey-like is exciting to me. There was a monkey-like creature (clearly I don't go to the zoo to learn taxonomy) missing a hind leg. People seemed sad for it, but I thought he had it set. If he wasn't in the zoo he probably would have been eaten a long time ago. He worked really hard to make friends.
Too hard. I'm glad I'm not a monkey, because he would annoy me but then I would feel bad because of the missing leg, but then think, "Seriously, why so annoying?" The internal conflict of annoyance versus sympathy would almost certainly obliterate me over time. Luckily, I'm not a monkey.
Sometimes from a distance I'll see a parent pick up a small child and think "Monkey!" then get very sad when I realize it's not monkey, just a tiny human. I see those all the time. That is the part of the zoo that is sad, the tricks. I don't like to be tricked. Especially by small children masquerading as monkeys.
Driving home I thought, "This is a nice neighbourhood. I wonder if the property value is affected by the increased odds of tiger mauling." I haven't really looked into it, but if it isn't, I think it should be. Tiger maulings suck. Although, I have to admit that part of the draw of the zoo is the potential for some sort of terrifying animal escape, like in Jurassic Park.
After seeing Jurassic Park, I couldn't sleep for multiple days because I was pretty sure a Velociraptor was going to eat me in the night. The only reason I was ever able to sleep again was realizing that their big clawed hands can only open lever-style door handles. They are powerless against the common doorknobs, no matter how intelligent they may be. And that is the story of how I overcame my fear of Velociraptors.
Animal sex is amusing all on its own, but what makes it much more amusing is listening to parents trying to avoid having to explain what's happening to their little ones through a variety of futile distraction techniques.
While they worked hard to preserve their children's innocence, I took a picture.
I also enjoy taunting animals that would maul me if I ran into them in nature. They mainly ignore it, but I think it affects them more than they let on.
I spent awhile standing behind a tree watching a polar bear and imagining that we were out in the wild in an epic man-against-nature struggle. I was hoping that he would see me and charge, but he only glanced at me briefly with a "Seriously, I can see you, but I'm pretending not to because I'm embarrassed for you," look. And that's when I learned that polar bears are surprisingly expressive. Also, kind of assholes.
Anything monkey or monkey-like is exciting to me. There was a monkey-like creature (clearly I don't go to the zoo to learn taxonomy) missing a hind leg. People seemed sad for it, but I thought he had it set. If he wasn't in the zoo he probably would have been eaten a long time ago. He worked really hard to make friends.
Too hard. I'm glad I'm not a monkey, because he would annoy me but then I would feel bad because of the missing leg, but then think, "Seriously, why so annoying?" The internal conflict of annoyance versus sympathy would almost certainly obliterate me over time. Luckily, I'm not a monkey.
Sometimes from a distance I'll see a parent pick up a small child and think "Monkey!" then get very sad when I realize it's not monkey, just a tiny human. I see those all the time. That is the part of the zoo that is sad, the tricks. I don't like to be tricked. Especially by small children masquerading as monkeys.
Driving home I thought, "This is a nice neighbourhood. I wonder if the property value is affected by the increased odds of tiger mauling." I haven't really looked into it, but if it isn't, I think it should be. Tiger maulings suck. Although, I have to admit that part of the draw of the zoo is the potential for some sort of terrifying animal escape, like in Jurassic Park.
After seeing Jurassic Park, I couldn't sleep for multiple days because I was pretty sure a Velociraptor was going to eat me in the night. The only reason I was ever able to sleep again was realizing that their big clawed hands can only open lever-style door handles. They are powerless against the common doorknobs, no matter how intelligent they may be. And that is the story of how I overcame my fear of Velociraptors.
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