Day 463: I Write My Birthday List

Tomorrow I am thirty-eight, which is OK as I only look about twenty-five in the face and have the breasts and thighs of a (very fucking good looking, like a young Christy Turlington for e.g.) twenty-year-old.

In addition, my brain is still very sharp (despite the fact that I keep forgetting Marlon Brando's name), and I am still able to do quite complicated mental arithmetic and remember telephone numbers (although I am unable to remember my own postal code in Canada).

That means tomorrow holds no fear me. In fact, I am looking forward to being forty (in two years), as apparently that is when people take you really seriously and you start thinking about pensions, buying automatic cars and leaking if you go on a trampoline.

But I digress. I know there is not much time, but I know that you will all want to buy me a present or two. Here are the things I would like:

1. 5 x pairs extra-large Bodyshaper opaque tights from M&S (black)

2. 10 packs plain Hula-Hoops

3. 6 weeks' worth of The Observer Magazine

4. A 'mixed bag' of crap mags, e.g Grazia, Heat and/or Hello. (I don't like OK! It is vulgar.)

5. Hot meat pie

6. A car

7. To see all my friends for one night (but no more than one night as they are quite annoying)

8. Compilation CDs from at least five people I know

9. Cake (although it will be hard to beat the one I got last year!)

10. Fishfingers and peas

11. A couple of packets of Maldon sea salt

12. Some books that are good that I haven't read, that have happy endings.

I do not want much really, as (luckily!!!) I have pretty much everything I have ever wanted PLUS things I did not know I wanted (a spare stomach, a ladybird infestation, a spot on my left ear, the ability to roll my tongue in a way that makes grown men vomit, a delicious pathologist), but who am I to say 'no' to gifts of love from my adoring fans?

Pip pip!

NWM (aged 37 and 364 days)


PS I still haven't got a new can opener. Hint hint!

In other news: Why do some North Americans say "comm-poast" and "BAYsul"? I wish they would stop. Particularly with the "comm-poast" shit.

Day 462: I Lose My Cheese, and Make The Same Mistake Twice

When one is literally non-working the days can, on occasion, pass slowly, even if it is quite easy to fill time.

I, for example, spend much of the day shouting at Facebook (Jackie is not looking forward to the PTA evening tonight! Jonny is wishing he was out on the golf course! Bappy is wishing she had finished him off good and proper with a stick; Mario is a fuckwitted bore with a tiny cock! Dave is going to Saudi on holiday with Su and can't wait; Non-workingmonkey is not interested!), replying to electronic mails from my friends, family and fans from all over the world, and bidding for nipple clamps on eBay.

When I am not doing those things, I am cooking. Today, for example, I made some salad for lunch; a salad the size of the moon, containing many interesting things including asparagus, small yellow tomatoes and some nuts that I crushed in my own tiny little monkey hands. But it needed cheese! Yes, cheese. The cheese of the goat, passed quickly over the 'griddle'* upon which I cooked my asparagus.

It went well. The two slices melted a bit, and then went into the salad bowl. I 'tossed'* the salad a bit, and looked at it. The cheese was there and it looked nice. Then I sat down and started eating it and somehow, between the kitchen and the dining table (a walk of at least a minute), the cheese disappeared. It hadn't disintegrated or got mushed or melted, or anything like that; it just wasn't there anymore.

After that I went into the ballroom-sized room where the gigantic washing machine and tumble drier are, and looked at the three socks that are sitting there, waiting for their pair. I have written of this before, and the observation is neither original nor particularly surprising, but where do the socks go, bearing in mind laundry baskets, rigorous sorting, and not much else to do other than make sure socks are in pairs? I am quite distressed, as usually Wednesday afternoon is sock-ironing time.

And then I made the same mistake again. "Nourishing botanicals, gentle cleansers and the invigorating aroma of organically grown Peppermint replenish your skin and revitalize the senses", murmurs the copy on the bottle of shower gel provocatively, winking at me saucily with its naughty shower-gel eyes. I grab it in my two monkey hands and start frantically lathering up my monkey fur, waiting to be replenished and revitalised.

But what is this? Have I learnt nothing from past experience? For I apply the shower gel (containing organic mentha piperita leaf) to my ladygarden and am then surprised to note that it feels like my ladyparts are burning with the cold fires of hell!

I had better stay in tomorrow, I think, very quietly, all by myself.



* Terrible words, all of them. "Toss the salad". No. Toss off.

Day 461: I Dine With A Pathologist

"Look at that", he says, holding up a slice of broccoli stalk. "It looks just like a brain stem".

Day 461: I Consider Starting Up A Saucy Blog

I am fed up with being left out in the cold!! Everyone else has a 'sex blog' so I cannot see why I shouldn't too; it seems quite unfair, really, that all these other 'bloggers' are out there having sexyfun on the internets while I am just writing about giant fruit and being a life-coach (albeit a very good one).

I have been thinking about my possible new blog really hard. (Not like that!!!!) From what I can gather, convention dictates that it should:

1. Have a saucy French name, e.g. Le Super-Sexy Singe Non-Travaillant, or (my personal preference!), Il y a du monde au balcon;
2. Feature a close up photograph of my enbonpoint (see Il y a du monde au balcon, above), which will be difficult because I am a monkey and I do not think that that many monkeys have breasts that you would want to see in a push-up brassiere;
3. Talk about 'shafts', 'plunging', 'erection' and 'gushing' (although this also sounds a bit like sub-surface grouting and/or sub-marine tunnelling, possibly using the NATM);
4. Include me talking about my own moral code (or lack thereof);
5. Profess to be feminist in some way, particularly when criticised for being a bit shit;
6. Be not that interesting;
7. Be mainly read by 15 year old boys who live in Luton.

I am quite excited about it (not like that!!!).

What do you think? Would YOU like to read the L'Histore Sexuelle Du Singe Non-Travaillant, or The Joy of Monkey? Let me know! I think it could be great!!

Day 460: I Continue My Career As A Life Coach

Due to the (entirely to be expected) success of my new career, I am simply swamped - every day - by letters from my loyal readers, each and every one begging for my own special brand of wisdom. Happily for them (and you!), I am really great - and that means that I am answering every single question, however fuckwitted.

Here, for your enjoyment (and their enlightenment!), is a selection from my latest 'mailbag'. Keep 'em coming in!

Mopsa writes:

"How can I have a five day weekend and a two day week?”

Dear Mopsa

I do not know, but I suspect it may have something to do with DIY stores.

I remain,

NWM


Katy writes:

“I am assuming that being a life coach is a bit like Extreme Makeover, yes? In which case I would like to be Britney Spears pre Kevin Federline please. Cheers.”

Dear Katy,

Are you mad? Even pre-Federline she looked like whoreish jailbait trailer trash. I do not think this is the look you are after! Can I suggest Aguilera, pre-fat-lipped husband but post-S&M boxing ring?

My love to you,

NWM


Katy also writes:

“PS I hope you aren't one of those life coaches that's obsessed with Jamie Oliver's fat tongue. I had to chop one of those up into tiny monkey pieces only last week.”

Dear Katy

To coach is to love fat Oliver tongue.

More love to you,

NWM


bob lordy pop pop writes …

“Dear NWM lifecoach,

I seem to spend more time at work reading weblogs then actually working. Does this make me technically non-working?”

Dear Bob Lordy Pop Pop (was that your given name?)

As I assume you are being paid whilst reading web-blogs, I am afraid that no, you are not technically non-working. (If this is the case, all power to you, friend!)

The good news is, however, that you are most certainly spiritually and metaphorically non-working, a ‘life solution’ that you will find far more useful than being technically non-working.

(I am myself technically non-working, and whilst it is enjoyable in a great many ways, one cannot but wonder how one is going to afford a new set of ‘personal clamps’ before the long winter nights draw in!)

Keep it real, brother Pop Pop.

NWM



Miss Tickle writes …

“Dear NWM,

Why oh why oh why oh why?


Also, shall I become a child psychotherapist or a grown-up one?


Yours gratefully,

Miss Tickle.”

Dear Miss Tickle,

Why oh why oh why oh why would you want to become psychotherapist at all? I once attended a therapy “Group”, and in it were two psychiatrists and a psychotherapist (as well as four other people so dull that the simple memory of them makes me glaze over and think of Tamazepam) – and I’m not talking about the lady running it!

Have you considered a career in dental hygiene? They will not be able to talk to you, but this will not stop you from helping them anyway!

Takin’ it to the streets,

NWM



dawn writes ..

Dear non-working life coach monkey,



I have a problem. I have read half of the "No-one else found these funny" section of your blog and so far have found them all to be quite funny, particularly the Gigantic Cross-eyed Bear and Blackholevole.

Am afraid to finish reading the section lest I discover that I am, in fact, "no-one else" and shall have to change my telephone book listing.


If I am "no-one else," does this mean I can stop showing up for work? I can but hope.



Yours hoping hopefully,


N. Else

Dear N. Else

Might I suggest you have ‘a little chat’ with Miss Tickle, whose contact details are available above? Otherwise, the only problem you have is one of very good taste!

Yours in solidarity*

NWM

* You do like Dick Emery, don't you?


NOTE: My link colour thing is fucked. Everyone has a link, if they have a blog (Dawn, Lordy - you don't?), but you have to run your cursor over their name for the link to show up. Anyone know what I've done to it?

UPDATE: I think it is now mended!!