Monk's Week Off Blog Project, Day 3

A year ago, NerdyGirl was a reader who did a guest blog post for last year's week off project. Now she works for me, how is that for changes?

It’s Christmas Eve morning as I’m composing this blog post in my head for Monk. “Change over the past year” is the prompt he’s given us, and the weight of how different my life was a year ago settles around me. Last year at this time I was: living in Wyoming, dreading my last semester of college, planning a wedding for a couple of friends, plagued with asthma, and trying to wring out some last minute creativity for a guest blog post for Monk. This year I am: living in Seattle, still suffering from PTAS (post-traumatic-academic-syndrome) with occasional night terrors of not finishing my studies on time, figuring out this long-distance friendship-post-college thing, much healthier, and trying to wring out some last minute creativity for a guest blog post for Monk.

While this might seem like “same shit, different year” syndrome, the nature of my interactions with Monk have been the biggest change yet. A year ago I read Monk’s blog regularly, commented a couple times a week and occasionally conversed with him over e-mail. For the last five months I’ve been employed by TwistedMonk.com as shop assistant, customer service, general grunt, postal bitch, and portable brain. I still read his blog, I still comment, as we still converse over email but now I’m in the thick of the mayhem.

I know, I know, what could be better than being employed by one of the most charming and witty guys in the blogosphere? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret, kids: Monk has to practice that charm and wit sometimes and unfortunately Griffin and I are often the sounding board / back up singers. The most recent incident reminded me of that bit from the Princess Bride where Indigo (swarthy Spanish swordsman) and Fezzik (Andre the Giant) are tormenting Vizzini (short, bald Sicilian) with the rhyming game.

Indigo: That Vizzini, he can fuss.
Fezzik: ... fuss ... fuss ...I think he likes to scream at us.
Indigo: Probably he means no harm.
Fezzik: He's really very short on charm.
Indigo: Oh, you've a great gift for rhyme.
Fezzik: Yes, some of the time.
Vizzini: Enough of that.
Indigo: Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?
Fezzik: If there are, we'll all be dead.
Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it!
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?

Substitute Griffin for Indigo, Monk for Fezzik, the various punchlines as rhymes for “anal dilation” and I’m left as the short, balding Sicilian. After I worked in the Abbey for about a month, Monk was wondering exactly how this trio dynamic was going to work—previously he and Griffin were the Rogues of the Rope as it were, and I am…well…not a rogue. I’ve learned to let go of a great deal of my seriousness though, and brought a smidge of organization to the shop. And there’s something to be said for the rogue that Monk is—somedays I’m certain it’s only the laughter that gets us through the cold of the Abbey…crazed and maniacal as it may be.