You Want Funny? I'll be your monkey! and part two.

try to ignore the picture for now. try harder.


I am 21 and Drew and I were talking. I had noticed a downturn in the number of hits the monstro blog was getting. What was the cause of our tumbling popularity. We've started no illegal wars, smeared no honorable men (in the public reputation sense that is, I smear my shit on honorable men while they sleep at least 3 times a week) and faithfully posted at least once a week. Drew came up with the hypothesis that the stuff we write about is too weird or arcane for general consumptions, our similar philosophy on most things related to space, time, and the combination of the two just don't seem to fly. Drew seems to think that to attract mass appeal we need to turn to easily digestable comedy. No one wants to hear about our inner collegiate quarter life crisis angst or how we feel about the lady who crossed the street in a red pantsuit. You people want a smile to brighten your miserable day, a story about how I tripped on a banana and fell into a fountain in front of schoolchildren. Well for the most part, tough shit, but for now, digest this and if that doesn't crack you up then all hope is lost.

part two: sure to piss off those who agree with the analysis in (unlabeled) part one with just enough humor fix to keep you slaving back for more.

Tonight, in a fit of rare academic motivation, I went to the library to do some work. Normally I work at the monstro because from my desk I have pretty much everything I have at the library plus 1) peace and quiet 2)distractions galore for when work just isn't going so well (if i was more computer savvy the above picture would be here to demonstrate a time when work was not going so well). Well anyways, tonight at the library I sat down to read my book at one of the long tables on the third floor with a group of people. My friend Eden promptly and sarcastically said, "welcome to greek row" which I didn't make much of at the time. However, about 15 minutes later, the girl sitting across from me, who was in my opinion a completely normal human being, was visited by another girl and turned into something altogether terrifying. The two did the usual post thanksgiving, hey, how was your break shit and then the girl pulled out an US Weekly magazine from under her academic books and the two sat down and began loudly dissecting it.

A: Oh my god, she looks horrible in that dress
B: Yeah, did you hear nick and jessica broke up?
A: I refuse to believe that! I am not even going to listen. LA LA LA
B: God she looks fat in that dress
A: Maybe it's just the dress
B: I ate 9 cookies one day this break
A: (laughter, whispering) me too
B: Melissa Joan Hart looks weird pregnant

and so on and so forth. It made me wonder what I have in common with 99% of humanity if I cannot even relate to most other similarly well heeled white, middle class Americans at a 1400 person liberal arts college, am I the exception or the rule? What am I to people like that? A quaint, ruffian distraction when the "real world" gets boring? Meanwhile back in reality I sighed and dug in my bag for my computer which I planned to plug in and listen to music on to drown out the madness. After laboring right in front of the yak-fiesta to set my monster laptop up I realized I didn't have any headphones so I slowly, agonizingly placed the whole thing back in my bag and watched my body explode off that canoe and the pictures of presidents as my soul crept back to the monstro, where it peacefully rests now and forever.