Ass Monkey II

Small world we live in, people. So there I am, all tucked neatly under my covers, nightcap in place, taking a nap and twitching like a small cat. All of a sudden, in my dream of me chasing a Chrysler LeBarron, I hear doors slamming, laughter, jovialty, filtering in, nay blasting, from my hallway. Oh my rooooomaaaaates. They're three perky lasses, aren't they.

Well after 30 minutes of angrily debating to tell them to shut their yappers (the LeBarron is getting away!), I emerged from my slumber, swollen-faced, hair-mussed and braless. Let's just say the B. in Breasts stands for Bazooms, if you know what I'm sellin ya.

We started chatting, and my one roommate Sarah mentioned that she hadn't taken a look at my blog today. For shame, Sarah. So, bazoomed and all, I beckoned my roommates to my lair to take a peek at my Michael Jackson Bubbles post, as that picture took me all of 8 minutes to photoshop.

This is where my roommate Tania flips. her. shit. "Is that my monkey???" she screeched! "Wha?" my face said, lunatically. "My monkeeeeeeeeeeeey!!! Don't you remember? My! Mon! Key!" I had no idea what she referred to.

She ran to her room (and let me just say she is fast) and hurried back with a certain, lil' creature in tow. That creature being the Bubbles puppet Michael is seen fisting. I bring you this picture, of Tania, impersonating the King of Poop in all of his greatness.



What's most interesting about this monkey are its "instructions" on his little tushy tag: Surface wash with cold water and mild soap. Air dry. Massage with your fingers to restore plush. Do not brush.

People, I think that little tag is what got Michael INTO THIS MESS.

Thanks to Tania about being a good sport, even though picture took 25 minutes of coaxing. She's all "I don't wanna take it", and then Zoolander style, threw this genius pose out there. Magic.