Day 78: I Find A Long Lost Relative

You know how it is not working. Most days are spent in Woolworths trying to buy wooden spoons, reading Take A Break, going to the gymnasium (I am considerably thinner now, since you don't ask), making soup, thinking about crisps, thinking about Iceland, failing to finish the Guardian quick crossword for the 78th consecutive day, and trying (vaguely) to get a job. Oh, and thinking about playing the Lottery, what with the chance of getting a massive wedge that I wouldn't have to lift a finger to get (other than putting six little lines in some boxes and trying to remember Monkeymother's birthday).

I also spend witless amounts of time roaming around the magical world of the online. I amuse myself by trying to pick up my neighbours' wireless superhighwaynet: my AirPort is either broken or isn't compatible with the BT Broadband box thing and it makes my head hurt thinking about it, so I'm trying to nick someone else's so I can email people from the cellar. (I have 'JoJo' and 'BigBoy' to choose from, with an occasional appearance by 'KittyGirl'. I think KittyGirl and BigBoy should 'get it on' , and JoJo should take pictures.)

I am increasingly entertained by looking up people I haven't seen for 20 years on Friendsreunited ("I am a physiotherapist living in Richmond with my husband David and our two beautiful children, Melody and Skye", x 30), and then further enhancing my own entirely-made-up profile, which elicits increasingly strange emails from people I was apparently at university with, but can't remember. ("Dear NWM, I was interested to hear your news; are your dogs really called Curses and Transplant?".)

Naturally, I waste astonishing amounts of time putting random things in Google like "Marmite in my eye", "cat ill take him to vet or let him die", "squirrel control" and "ha ha Nelson noise m-peg". And happily, it seems I have no need for those 'trace your ancestor' thingies, for Google Has The Answer.


















Today I searched myself (not my self-self, my Non-workingmonkey self), and found that I have a Japanese relative, who is pictured here. What is he doing with his mouth, I hear you cry, and LOOK at his unfeasibly long eyelashes! And doesn't he get chilly in the foothills of Mount Fuji with nowhere to live? Both of these questions are answered if you look at his little Monkey House: an attractive presentation case which explains that he exists to blow bubbles.

















Now, you may be wondering why it is that I believe I am related to this particular monkey. The answer is simple. Created to spend an eternity of Monkeydom blowing bubbles (as I was created to smoke a small clay pipe and drink absinthe), he is now Broken, and unable to blow bubbles. Nor do his eyes flash and roll as they should, or his little arms move up and down. He is therefore on the market for only $25.99, and described as nonworking. I'd give him a home if I had a heart, but unfortunately I haven't. And anyway, he's scary.