Simiansurance

Okay, so I intended today to blog about the constant Thorn In Our Sides, commonly referred to as Health Insurance. But honestly? I could hardly summon the energy to THINK about writing about a topic so yawntastic as insurance, much less ACTUALLY write about it. So, I decided to write about monkeys instead. I hope you don't mind.

So, I was at this girls' retreat at Lutheridge in Arden, NC, a few weekends ago with a few friends from church. On Saturday night, we had a pajama party, complete with requisite karaoke, a craft table (joy of joys!), and a chocolate fountain for dipping your strawberries/head in. During the PJ party, we also had the opportunity to strut our stuff on the catwalk for an official-ish Pajama Fashion Show. Knowing this information ahead of time, I carefully packed my flannel sock monkey pajamas with matching slippers. And a rubber monkey mask from the 70s that is SURELY on a Halloween recall list somewhere. Regarless, it didn't fit my fat melon anyway, so I just strapped the thing jauntily atop my cranium and off the runway I went. Let's be clear the purpose of this entry is NOT merely to give me a platform to gloat that I took first prize. No, no, no. (Although, if you are interested, I'll let you wear my first-prize angel wings and matching fuzzy halo.) My friends, the reason why I give you all this information is so that you'll have background info for what happened next.

There's no reason to lie here: I was mighty proud of my angel wings, and shocked at winning the prize. Those who know me know that my winning a pageant of ANY kind is ludicrous. However, who wouldn't want a new pair of angel wings? But, I digress.

So, I'm sauntering around the snack table, my trophy wings flappin' in the breeze, when a fellow camper came up to me and said, "Have you ever heard of the monkey curse?" I'm tellin' ya, NOTHING can take the wind out of your sails after a big victory like the word "curse."

"Why, no...I haven't", I said, "but I'm intrigued!"

She proceeds to tell me that there are some--including her--who are afflicted with this curse, and she thought I might be a candidate as well. These Monkey Curse People, for whatever reason, come across this word every day. She said once I started to pay attention to it, I would hear "monkey" or see "monkey" every day of my life.

So, here I am, wearing a halo, being told I have the Monkey Curse. I'm thinking this is something I should pay attention to, because this is NOT an everyday occurance.

I heard the word "monkey" a lot the rest of the night, for obvious reasons. I looked like Cornelius from Planet of the Apes, for Pete's sake. So, I wrote that off as coincidental.

But, there we are, in the mess hall the next morning, eating breakfast. I hadn't told any of my friends about what the Camp Oracle had told me about My Future. I heard some "congratulations" from other campers that morning, but not a'one of them mentioned the M word. Just then, a girl from my group asked a fellow camper to take a group shot of us before we went home. We all squooshed together in the usual girl-photo-smoosh pose, and someone handed our photographer the camera. Just as we flashed our pearlies, our new friend chanted, "Okay, on the count of three say 'monkey!' ONE. TWO. THREE. MONKEY!!"

You're kidding me.

Who SAYS "one, two, three MONKEY?"

Seriously!?

So, that friends, was Day Two of Living-With-The-Curse. The lady was right; I'm plagued. The M word is everywhere, and I can't escape it. I hear it all the flippin' time, and if I don't hear it, I see it on a cartoon, or a billboard, or a website...so with the wings have come the cursedness. It's a rough price to pay. But I'll TAKE IT.