...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

'darling, don't you monkey with the monkey'

Saturday I spent a chunk of my afternoon running a variety of errands and basking in the brief respite we've had to this Midwestern winter. It was a super busy day, but it was also a chance to plop on the giant sunglasses, crack the windows in the mini, and bounce along to Kid Rock's Cocky* (and then be all "what the...?" when Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 was the next selection on the iPod) as the fiery mane of hotness billowed, supermodel style, in the breeze that kicks up when one is driving 35 mph down a suburban residential roadway.

Once back home, I made a quick trip to my local gas station/convenience store/wine cellar/softcore porn shop/Spencer's Gifts for a refill on my life's blood. Armed with my refillable 44 ounce fountain cup, I breezed in the front door, thinking maybe I'd like a snack to go along with my delicious Diet Mountain Dewy delight. "Perhaps an Almond Joy?" I asked myself. "You do know those are good for when you feel like a nut, right?" I replied. Vowing to think about my choice a bit longer, I hit my stride past the Krispy Kreme donut case and started to round the corner to the soda fountain. It was then, as I neared my approach, that I heard it.

Loud, self-assured, intent, and cockier than old Kid Rock up there could ever imagine being, let along sing about.

A hardcore wolf whistle.

For the briefest of seconds, I froze, and without turning my head, did a peripheral scan of the store. No one to my right. OK. What's that? The slightest hint of movement to my left! Oh, it's just the lady managing the store, gazing out the window and completely oblivious to me, which is fine, really, because while she appeared smart looking and self assured, and thus just my type, I didn't wish to break her heart by informing her as I plopped down my $1.59 that I didn't often get invited to the girl parties.

Cleared on either side of me, that must have meant the person with the great lungs and good taste (I'm not trying to brag, really, but I was rocking a good hair day and a good hair day coupled with a "what'chu gonna do wit all dat junk" in some good jeans moment can work wonders for anyone's big head) was behind me, admiring the view. This thought prompted a boost in my ego that caused my spine to lengthen and my rack to puff out, like a mating bird in the rainforests of South America. It also gave me a better view off the glass on the refrigerator case ahead of me, which, coupled with the previous mentioned giant sunglasses, meant I could check out my apparent admirer on the downlow.

But I saw nothing. NOTHING!

"Maybe they ducked behind the latest People magazine and display of fuzzy handcuffs so you wouldn't see them!" I said to myself. "Probably. You're probably right." I replied, curious and slightly charmed. Enough so that I turned around under the guise of wanting to pick up this week's copy of The Sporting News and the Penny Saver in hopes of bumping into my fan. Prepared to be entirely super casual, I put a puckery smile on my face and rounded the corner.

Where I bumped into nothing. NOTHING!

"Maybe your powerful sense of self and extreme confidence scared them and they ducked out after whistling," I said to myself. "Maybe you're right," I responded. "If such is the case, this store really should look into a security bell on their door. Who knows what kind of hooligans come in here day to day!"

I then turned and proceeded back to the soda fountain. I'd taken two giant steps past a display of Valentine cards and toys when I heard it again. The same cocky wolf whistle that got my heart beating all fast and giddy just moments ago. I whipped around, fiery mane of hotness flying everywhere, and immediately noticed my adoring fan.

Dangling by their furry arms along the bottom of the Valentine gift display, under the giant plush roses and "i have a 'heart' on for you" shot glasses, was a row of plush orangutans. Planting myself right in front of them, hand on my jutted hip, I didn't have to wait long for one of them - the cute one in the middle - to leer at me, maybe run it's monkey paw over it's nonexistant down there dingle dangle, and whistle again. Once again, I was compelled to look around the store. This time not to finger the culprit, but to hide my embarrassement in hopes that no one had actually seen me acting like I had a secret admirer willing to follow me into the local convenience store/wine cellar/softcore porn shop/Spencer's Gifts.

(and also not to notice that a stuffed whistling monkey made me blush and giggle and say "Awww! Me? You think I'm hot, little monkey?! Or do you know I've always had a thing for the tree swingers?")

Thankfully, the lady at the cash register was still there, still gazing out the window and still oblivious to my existence.

With a very quiet chuckle to myself, I again made my way to the soda fountain (seriously, by this point, I was jonesing for some pop!), but I certainly didn't miss the fact that just a few seconds later, two hot guys walked through the doors and my sexy simian sweethearts didn't serande them with wolf whistles.

"Definitely must be dude monkeys," I said to myself. "Oh, no doubt," I replied. "Dude monkeys with an extreme level of self confidence to be able to rock the pink and white hair bows and heart collars."

To make my two fella fellow shoppers feel better, however, I did wolf whistle at them in my head. Even Stevens.

In the end, I got my delicious beverage refill, settled on a 100 Grand bar - the perfect marriage of all the good things that make up a quality high calorie treat, minus the nuts, because the real nutjobs are out there - and made a bit of small talk with Daydream Believer (by The Monkees. Ha! Check it! Totally unintentional and not noticed until editing, when I was all "Oh! Hahahaha! You're so cute and ironic, you!") behind the cash register. On my way out the door, I glanced around the store one last time - this time to assure myself the coast was clear - then turned briefly and gave my fake furry friends a wink. And OK, I may have pointed to the cute pink one in the middle and blew him a little kiss.

You and me, monkey. We got it goin' on.

*This song contains lyrics the likes of which I sometimes use in the following cases:
  • Striking my thumb with a hammer. Hard.
  • Yelling at someone in my head simply to make myself feel better and then move on.
  • Pretending to be the star of soft-core Cinemax after dark films.

Listen at your own discretion, yet know that I kick ass in a little dance to this when no one is around.



Blogger Phyllis RenĂ©e said...

You are hysterical - I just about peed my pants!

Sunday, February 03, 2008 7:46:00 PM  
Blogger Biscuit said...

Nice to know there's another mom out there with a music collection that necessitates a "child friendly" playlist on the iPod :)

Sunday, February 03, 2008 8:09:00 PM  
Blogger Sailor said...

Wonderful, I loved this, i can just picture you blowing the hot little guy a kiss too :)

Sunday, February 03, 2008 8:41:00 PM  
Blogger Chuck said...

You know plush stuffed whistling monkeys have been known to break up marriages. Good thing you got out of that store when you did! LOL

Hilarious post!

Sunday, February 03, 2008 10:34:00 PM  
Blogger Nanette said...

You always make me giggle! Always!

I am impressed that you traced that whistle back to the monkees-- but you are into the stupid monkey, remember??!!! Gah!

Sunday, February 03, 2008 11:15:00 PM  
Blogger Edtime Stories said...

Ahhh the whistling monkey....hey that was my nickname in college.. ;)

Monday, February 04, 2008 6:32:00 AM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

You know the poor little guy, nonexistant dingle dangle and all, just wanted you to take him home with you. . .

Or are you just into breaking hearts this week?

But hey, as my man Jim Croce used to say, I Got a Name. . .

Monday, February 04, 2008 10:05:00 AM  
Anonymous Prom Queen said...

Biscuit - my daughter asked me what all those red marks were on my itunes playlist. She said, "I do not have those in my library." Wait until you hit middle school, sweety. Then remember Mommy can hear you when you sing out loud with your headphones on. That was how Prince was banned from my house back in high school. Damn the union of "Darlin' Nicki" and a walkman.

I got carded this week! Not a wolf whistle, but it was something.

Monday, February 04, 2008 11:44:00 AM  
Blogger Bee said...

Wow! I fur sho' thought it would be parrots but this was way better! Stuffed animals sense hottness. They just do.

Monday, February 04, 2008 6:54:00 PM  
Blogger kimmyk said...

OMG! This totally cracked me up!
I hope they review the video tapes. You do know they have cameras and stuff in the store! Next time you go in they'll have a picture of you at the register!

I would have gone for the 100 grand bar too. good choice my friend.

Sometimes ya feel like a nut, sometimes ya don't. I know a lot of people like that-sadly most of them are bloggers.

Monday, February 04, 2008 10:19:00 PM  
Blogger FTN said...

My deepest apologies for being a day late in commenting. I hope you can forgive me. I know you are probably teary-eyed over it.

I could never really do a wolf-whistle. Strangely, my ability to do a good whistle has seriously diminished with age. I have kind of a little girly whistle now. It probably doesn't hold up to monkey scrutiny in the least.

What's this you say about you pretending to be the star of the Cinemax after-dark films?

Tuesday, February 05, 2008 8:25:00 AM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Phyllis - Thank you for the kind words! Sorry for any potential incontinence, though!

Biscuit - Oh, you'd think my unfortunate experience forgetting my youngest was in the mini while I sat in the school parking lot listening to "Closer" would have taught me to build a kid-friendly playlist. Alas, I now hit fast forward much quicker! Even during some of their songs, because seriously. I can't hear "Cha Cha Slide" much more than 10 times a day!

Sailor - And I imagine the next time I go to that store for more refillable goodness, that little furry monkey is going to be waiting for me!

Chuck - I read that relationship quandry in Cosmo. I left the article out for my husband so he could address his Webkinz issues before we have to resort to counseling.

Nan - You're my SNORT girl! Woo Hoo. And oh, yes, I am a fan of that stoopid monkey.

Ed - Ha! Clever. Hmmm. I don't know if I had a nickname in college.

Desmond - If I wasn't afraid that little furry buddy with the nonexistant dingle dangle might not rise up in the night and kill me - nor cost over $20 for shoddy craftsmanship - I may have brought it home. Because I'd be a fan of being wolf whistled at on the daily.

And am I breaking hearts?!

Prom Queen - Oh, I so remember the "what IS he saying?" talk I got when I got the Purple Rain soundtrack for my birthday! I used to slap my dad's giant stereo headphones on, listen and read the liner notes. I'd listen loudly enough that that infamous line came out like a shot.

This is one of those songs I fast forward thru while in the mini with the kids. Which means I have to miss hearing the Foo Fighter's cover. Sigh.

High fives on the getting carded, my friend! I'm wolf whistling for you!!

Bee - I think maybe I'm like a Stuffed Animal Whisperer. They sense me and just want me. I know. It's tough having this burden. Being hot is hard, dangit!

Kimmy - Ha! If today I enter that store and I see my picture pinned to the wall next to the liquor and tobacco licenses, I will totally offer to autograph it, then I will slap on some lipstick and kiss it! I'm a giver, girl. If they need me, I will sit in their litle mini car during town parades and toss out coupons for free Icees!

I will not toss out nuts, though. The world has enough damn nut jobs without me adding to the mix.

and ummm...100 Grand....

FTN - I can't whistle at all. At ALL! So perhaps you could come teach me. Saying that, however, makes me suddenly hear a bad soundtrack in my head (no "Darling Nikki". Couldn't get the rights), and us breaking into some bad Cinemax afer-dark film.

It wouldn't really be bad, though. And we'd have to stipulate in our contract that there will not be 12 sequels, like all those Emmanuelle films that I may or may not have watched quietly at night while growing up because seriously, someone had to teach me about sex, so why not pay cable?

Tuesday, February 05, 2008 8:44:00 AM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

Oh, I'm gettin' better, dear. It was just a shock to my system, finding out that I'm not even the first Desmond in your heart. . .

So, me an' the monkey, we unnerstand each other, see? . . .

Tuesday, February 05, 2008 9:18:00 AM  
Blogger Scarlett Wanna Be said...

A whistle is a whistle I always say. Count it! Brag about it! That's how I roll.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008 11:50:00 AM  
Blogger Stacie said...

OMHeavens how I laughed at this! YOU ROCK girlie! YOu absolutely ROCK! I want a fiery mane of hotness....

Tuesday, February 05, 2008 3:31:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

god, you're funny as hell!! love reading your blog, girl!

Tuesday, February 05, 2008 6:53:00 PM  
Blogger Recovering Soul said...

I'd give anything to receive a cat call or whistle. I used to get it all the time, with an a$$ as hot as mine, when I walked past construction sites. But no longer.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008 8:52:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Des - Awww. Trust me. I don't have it in me to be a heartbreaker! I'm a notorious people (and stuffed monkey) pleaser! It's not in my genetic code!

Scarlett - It it wasn't pretentious of me, I'd consider getting tshirts made stating I was whistle worthy. I'd totally own it. You want I should get you one made up, too?!

Stacie - Aww, thank you, sweet woman! The fiery mane of hotness thanks you, too. And warns you. You have to be ready for the power that comes with the auburn hair. Train. Condition. Mental prep. It's intense, but I bet you could handle it!

Katie - Thank you! Some days are funnier than others, I imagine. Some days it's just me giggling at myself and what I imagine is others out there just shaking their head in sadness at me!

RS - If your ass actually had money signs on it, I'd probably whistle at it. I mean, come on! Money signs! I can't fathom why you're not getting the wolf whistles now.

Wait. I forgot. I can't whistle. I think FTN was gonna teach me, but he may not know that yet. Well, when I know how, I will whistle, and then we'll laugh and keep walking.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008 9:38:00 AM  
Blogger justlori2day said...

cruisin in the burbs in the mini with your mane blowing in the cool breeze.

I wanna be you when I grow up! Ownin' it all and not cautious about who you flaunt it at - mr. monkey man knew who he was aiming at when he howled!

I do have to admit that I am picturing the big sunglasses to be the BIG sunglasses that sort of ruined the rest of the vision, but because you are you, ownin' it and all, you made even THOSE glasses cool.

Yep you when I grow up.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008 8:08:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

justlori2day - I'm a bit afraid that *I* will never grow up! I am enough of a grown up, though, not to sport the BIG sunglasses. Just the sorta BIG sunglasses.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Monkey Man has been talking about the vision I was since I walked in there last weekend. Tonight? Paying him a visit. Yep. I expect there will be tears of happiness!

Thursday, February 07, 2008 8:26:00 AM  
Blogger justlori2day said...

So, how was it? was it slow motion running across fields of wild flowers? Or was that typical monkey man thing where he acts like he hasnt ever seen you before? you know, that neandrothol thing?

that isnt spelled right is it?

but its a man thing...

Thursday, February 07, 2008 7:39:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

justlori2day - Well, monkey man played coy when I walked in. Gave me nothing! Nothing! Then I stepped back and realized the staff had turned him and all his monkey friends around so they wouldn't be tempted to whistle at just ANYBODY who walked in the place. Which I'm sure they wouldn't. I'm sure they've been waiting for my return and haven't whistled at anyone else. But once I turned the stuffed one who seemed to love me most? Whistled!

And maybe a little sigh of relief and joy that I was back!

Friday, February 08, 2008 8:23:00 AM  
Blogger 1blueshi1 said...

I had to click over to YouTube and listen to "So Hot" while reading your blog post and laughing. Is it not amazing how they manage to make his softbodied lank hair what is left of it ass look all rock star in videos? I hope they got hardship pay.
I would TOTALLY invite you to my girl party (winks).
also, I tore an ad for this brush out for you so I wouldn't forget to tell you about it in your quest. I saw it in Lucky mag, someone they interviewed rec' it or maybe their beauty dept? anyway it's the IM 53 MM Thermal Round Brush, 22.00 at ulta.com, "I use this to blow out my hair--it's fantastic for adding volume at the roots, and it's designed to protect against heat damage. Plus, the handle is so soft and comfortable."
Thank me? No, really, you don't have to thank me like that...but if you reeeeally want to...I promise to wolf whistle at you afterwards!

Sunday, February 10, 2008 7:18:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

1blueshi1 - It's the wonder of smoke and mirrors, I totally believe it! I'm all "Oh, I might just wanna get me some of Kid..." when I see him and his bad ass self on a video. Especially "So Hot" and the way that trench flaps, vampire style, and he flicks that cigar out!

You should know that I jotted this piece of magical information down and plan to make a stop at Ulta tomorrow when I get off work! I appreciate you remembering my desire for the perfect brush. Now, if you could do the same for bras adn shoes, believe me, you and me? There'd be thanks worthy of a wolf whistle. Mmm hmmm!

Sunday, February 10, 2008 9:38:00 PM  

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