The French, English and Talking Primates

Posted by c jane/Courtney K. | October 25, 2006 | 18 Comments

It isn’t typical of me to compare myself to dead European royalty. If I have the go-ahead I much prefer a discussion of semblance to figure skaters, specifically those with large gold medals in their collection. My junior prom dress was inspired by Nancy Kerrigan’s black sheath number that she wore when she didn’t win a gold medal, but for what it’s worth, the costume overcame that pesky Tony Harding scandal.

I said above that it isn’t typical of me to compare myself to dead European royalty, but now I am taking it all back because IT IS TYPICAL OF ME to compare myself to dead European royalty. I’ve been doing it for several years. It feels good. But for the record I have NEVER compared myself to Joan of Arc who is in a way sort of a European Historical Royalty. That Joanie was too brave for me. I would’ve just stayed home and made/eaten croissants.

It seems that a lot of royals have a thing in common with me, that of having a monkey on the back.

You do know what I mean right? Here is an example. My best friend Charlotte is a swinging single 29-years-old. For a year or so everyone in her universe insisted that she go out with Charlie, a fellow from high school. He tried in vain, sometimes taking flights to Utah (as he lived in the great and arrid Southwest), to convince her to grant him an evening of dinner and romance. It wasn’t long before friends and relatives became uber-involved, often wearing the now unoriginal TEAM CHARLIE t-shirts. No matter, Charlotte was NOT interested. In a moment of desperation one night, Charlotte broke down and allowed Charlie to take her to dinner. When all was said and done, Charlotte felt nothing for the bloke, and he nothing for her. As he dropped her off at the doorstep that evening he said,

“Well. We got the monkey off our backs.”

To which she responded,

“And so we did. Have a nice life.”

Charlie wished her the same, and that–my darlings–was that.

For Queen Elizabeth it was marriage. Everyone wanted her to get married to someone! Anyone! They set her up with all sorts of suitors from neighboring lands. Spain, France, and that is all I can remember right now (but I did read the book). It was all anyone could think about, “Whenst thouest thy gracious Queenth willth marrieth, buth yetteth we seeth anotherth moonth to fallth without thouth a husbandman?” (to a quote from a Shakespeare play I made up.) Finally Eliza had enough and decided to hold a wedding without a groom per se. From that day forth she was the bride of England and says (well at least in the movie) “Observe, Lord Burghley, I am married… to England.”

And that is how Queen Elizabeth got the monkey off her back.

When I went to see the movie “Marie Antoinette” this week I saw that she too had a live-in monkey. She came to Versailles to be Louis XVI’s dauphine and more importantly, to give the French throne an heir. As it turns out, Louis wasn’t the most productive in the bed chamber (throwing my drift for your catch), and as the months go by the French Court started to worry that a baby will never be birthed. Just for the record though, I wouldn’t want to have a baby in the Queen’s chamber. It’s like a stage and people would watch and nothanks ok? Take your fancy chandeliers and foie grass and get out of here! You know? But poor Marie! In one scene she locks herself in her private chambers and cries because her sister-in-law just gave birth to a bouncing bundle of boy while a pregnancy for pauvre Marie-Anne seemed impossible. I don’t want to spoil the movie (history) or anything but in order to cope with the pressure, she resorts to all sorts of delicious behavior until finally one day Louis’ bio-clock chimes and viola the Dauphine is with child. Also she dies in the end at the guillotine, but that is not what I am focusing on in this essay.

My monkey is becoming a mother. Sometimes I want to have a child just so I can send the monkey off to the zoo. I get asked on so many occasions “How many children do you have?” or “When are going to have children?” that I could spend a lot more verbal energy on talking about . . . whatever mother’s talk about . . .poo and sore nipples or whatever.

Besides I am more than what I am not. You know what I mean? Queen Elizabeth wasn’t just unmarried, she was a really smart lady. And Marie didn’t have a baby, but she had orgasmic (can I use that word on here?) style. Joan of Arc probably did eat croissants and fed them to the monkey on her back that kept whispering in her ear “Get those blasted English out of our country woman!”

Anybody else out there with a talking-monkey?

Category: CJane Speaks!

Comments

18 Responses to “The French, English and Talking Primates”

Carina
October 25th, 2006 @ 12:16 pm

I’ve always thought of myself as more like Eleanor of Aquitaine, but that’s just me.

I have many talking monkeys, including the monkey that tells me to say stuff that I regret later.
Sharlee
October 25th, 2006 @ 12:41 pm

Okay, Cjane, you did it. You made me laugh, right out loud. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that sitting alone at my computer. Oh, not that I don’t laugh. Just not out loud when I’m by myself.

My favorite lines were: “That Joanie was too brave for me” and “Take your fancy chandeliers and foie grass and get out of here.” Oh, and I loved the quote from the Shakespeare play that you made up.

Do I have any talking monkeys on my back? Well, there’s the one that keeps telling me to give up this writing nonsense and take up scrapbooking like a normal Mormon dame . . .

Do I have any talking monkeys? Hmmmm.
Sharlee
October 25th, 2006 @ 12:43 pm

Oops. Delete that last line. That was my “thinking through writing” phrase that I forgot to erase.
LuckyRedHen
October 25th, 2006 @ 1:33 pm

My monkey’s telling me to get off my behind and do some laundry. Shut up monkey. Here’s a carrot (no foie gras because it is inhumane to geese).
The Wiz
October 25th, 2006 @ 1:59 pm

That was hilarious. I just recently found your blog, and I got to say, I am loving it.

I have several monkeys – one is put there by people who want me to have a fourth baby just because I can, (oh, but it’s so easy for you!)as if me getting pregnant again would make up for all the infertility in the world, and add more balance or something. I don’t want four, so I just ignore that monkey.
Wendy
October 25th, 2006 @ 2:42 pm

My monkey is kicking me in the bum to earn more money by doing the easiest job in the world- teaching piano.

But I fight this little monkey because oh, how I love my free time.
Kristen
October 25th, 2006 @ 2:50 pm

I don’t know if this is a monkey or not. But I’m supposed to be teaching my 3 month old Spanish, by speaking exclusively to her in Spanish. I’m doing it, but I don’t really want to be. My husband really wants it, and I’m supposed to want it because supposedly me speaking a second language means that I should have the desire to impart my talents to my posterity. BUT I DON’T WANT TO. There. I said it.
Emily
October 25th, 2006 @ 3:04 pm

I’m not sure, but I think my monkey has something to do with poo and sore nipples.
Justine
October 25th, 2006 @ 3:58 pm

Clearly, I have issues. Many, many issues. My problem may be like Carina’s. I don’t know when to shut-up. I say lots of things just because I think them.

Obviously I think I’m always right, otherwise I wouldn’t be so verbose.

Oh, and I worry about people stealing my mail.
Nat
October 25th, 2006 @ 5:49 pm

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes I have a monkey – several in fact. Giving birth is not one of them. (Thankfully, neither is sore nipples… still working on the poo monkey.)

My monkey always tells me I’m not good enough at what I do. All the time. Sadly, I listen to it a lot.
Heather O.
October 25th, 2006 @ 7:23 pm

Laughing out loud at poo monkeys.

I have monkeys, too, but I’m not sure if they are put there by me or by other people. I’m quite sure I’m extremely capable of piling on the zoo animals myself. And why stop at monkeys? I could probably find some kangaroos back there, too. I did, at one time, plan to be a vet, you know, so, there you go.

I have “Potential” monkeys. I feel constantly like I am not living up to my potential, whatever that means. Like I said, I’m not sure if the potential monkey is put there by me or by somebody else. Probably somebody else put it there and I have nurtured it all myself with all the love in my animal heart. Er, um, something like that.
Dalene
October 25th, 2006 @ 8:11 pm

Hmmm. A ten-letter word that starts with a D~ comes to mind. It’s a monkey I end up carrying even when it’s not mine.

Sometimes I think Peter Gabriel had the right idea about the monkey.
sue
October 25th, 2006 @ 10:38 pm

Guilt. The big monkey in my life. No matter what it is, I feel guilty. And saying “sorry” all the time, that monkey needs to shut his pie clamp.
*Gu*
October 25th, 2006 @ 11:32 pm

it kills me when my siblings with children do the whole “well you don’t have any kids, so you must not have a life… we need a babysitter!” It’s fine at first- I love the kids, but HELLO- if i wanted you to plan my life i’d just ask- so get the heck of my back and hire someone to raise your kids for you! Except then you’d have to pay them…

-i guess i needed to vent, sorry.
b.
October 26th, 2006 @ 12:53 am

I got a few monkeys on me. I got a “You ain’t never been enough, you ain’t enough now, and you ain’t nevah gonna be enough” monkey AND a “Yo Mama says you ugly!” monkey. Apparently, mine come from the ghetto.
Geo
October 26th, 2006 @ 10:09 pm

Dalene, you know what Peter Gabriel says:

SHOCK THE MONKEY!

Monkeys? Me? Why, yes, my trees are just full of ‘em.

Except that in my jungle, the more dangerous critters are the elephants who would rather sit on your head than ride your back.
Johnna
October 26th, 2006 @ 11:10 pm

Kristen–child language development experts proved, in the 1980s, that it is absurd and counterproductive for a mother to speak to her child exclusively in her non-native language, even if she is fluent in it.

and you can take that monkey to the bank.
Heather H
October 30th, 2006 @ 4:00 pm

court: you probably don’t need to be told this again, with all of your adoring fans and all, but you are hilarious! you are definitely more than you are not.

my monkey says, “do better, do better, do better!” no matter, what,so I guess I’m like Nat and b. But my monkey isn’t from the ghetto, too bad! I live in the ghetto, so it would fit in great.