We have contact.

aha! The lovely ms. alex locastro has now become my first and only follower! this is exciting. perhaps her and I can blog simultaneously from our respective cities and it will be like we were never torn apart by the forces that be and stuck at opposite ends of an ocean and a continent. I am now offering her the position of Rebel Monkey Corespondent on the Home Front. I think I shall need a contact at Mission Control, to keep me informed, grounded, and sane.

Phase one of Operation Hot Monkey is now underway. In this phase I will attempt to assimilate into the culture of the Red Coats and blend seamlessly into their society. To begin, I am getting accustomed with the elaborate money system. This has proven more difficult than I originally predicted. The five, ten, and twenty pound notes are convenient enough, although I don't quite understand why they insist upon being so extravagant. They look like the love child of Monopoly money and a candy bar wrapper. Alas, it's the coinage I find myself struggling with. Firstly, it's nice that I can call it "change" but that tends to lull me into a false sense of security where "cents" will inevitably come spilling out of my mouth as well. At least "pence" and "cents" sound similar enough that if I get into the habit of mumbling prices, people may not tell the difference. My biggest handicap however is finding myself momentarily paralyzed when I have to count out change at check outs. Why must the 10p look so much like a quarter and the 5p like a dime? I'm sure this is all our fault, and we stole the design of the coins and then made them worth more as a statement of independence. But its just upsetting. Can't we work something out? I'm writing a letter to both Departments of Money just in case word doesn't already get to them through this post. And finally, what's the deal with the 2p coin? I can't imagine ever using this, unless I'm buying a bag of grain to feed the birds. And its 1902.

I'm doing my best but I'm afraid this monkey is sticking out like the tracks of a bad weave. I'm oscar mike. But staying frosty.