Rabid monkeys with fancy tools

You know, when people ask me which part of Ireland I’ll be going to, I say Cork and they will give me that cock-eyed stare. "COCK? YOU GOING TO COCK?" And the age old Julia Tan’s going to Cork to find more corks. Oh the agony of puns. Ha. ha. Not. Funny. Anymore. After. The. 111th. Time.
And also, I say I’m going in January and 9 out of 10 will initially say "Oh it’s going to be so cold!" Yeah, I know. I know. All you aunty and uncle relatives, I KNOW.
God sometimes I hate family dinners, you know the Chinese sort of sit down dinner with the spinning thing (what’s it called again?) in the middle of the table because if you’re dining with a coupla relatives, and you being the younger one, you have to let the elders take food first. And when you’re ravenous, you just want to jump on top of the table and start stuffing food into your mouth. But noooo … you wait ages and ages and ages till the dish finally arrives to the direction in front of you, and even then. if some smartass starts pushing the goddamn spinning thing, you gotta wait again.
It sucks being the lowest in the food chain. I think that the spinning thing is a torture device.

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