My monkey makes me sad

I bought Drunky Monkey with great expectations. He and I would have tons of fun highjinks and crazy adventures together. He would be the PleePleus to my Zane Lamprey… confused? Watch ‘Three Sheets” on Hulu.com you’ll understand. And in the begining this happend! We started slow with, what I thought, would be an easy wine tasting weekend with my mother. But that ended up being a pretty hardcore trip, per poor Drunky Monkey’s slow slide into inebriation seen above. But that trip is for another blog.

After that we went to a sake festival together, but our relationship was quickly looked upon as strange “why is there a monkey sticking out of your purse?” my slightly drunken “why isn’t there one sticking out of yours, buddy!?” didn’t help the situation. Then there was the Portland to Coast relay, which started well but realizing too late that running with a monkey sticking out of your sports bra labels you as the “odd one”. p.s. sorry about not washing you after that, but you know me.

So now you sit on my shelf next to that hat I really couldn’t pull off and the Learn Spanish in 30 Days DVD set. It depresses me so much to see you there that I once put you in a drawer. But guilt and shame quickly made me take you out, that and the silent monkey screams I heard in my head as I started to walk away…that was disturbing. So there you sit, slumped with your heads between your knees. Trying to get over the nausia that is your life. But don’t give up hope, maybe this summer will be our summer. You never know, it could be the Summer of the Monkey!

About But That's For Another Blog

Wifey, Blogger, Cat Slave, New Puppy Mommy, Huge Nerd, and One Hellofafriend! (Seriously, I have references). SHINY!!
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6 Responses to My monkey makes me sad

  1. Juanita says:

    I think the monkey needs to go to a “Bitches Brunch”!

  2. Susan says:

    bring him to our next wine tasting or he and your cat may do bad things to you while you sleep!

  3. Oh my gosh, I just had a flashback!
    I used to manage a biker bar and was on it’s pool league (shot pretty good stick back then). I gave my McDermott cue the name of ‘Monkey’, cause men always think the best part of a woman is HER monkey, and at the time my ‘stick’ was the best thing I had going for me.
    My employer’s wife bought me a stuffed, spider monkey with a long tail and arms, that attached together with velcro as a gag gift (she didn’t seriously think I would take this around with me). I had more fun with this thing. The beginning of the evening it would come in wrapped around my pool case. As the evening progressed–and umm…so did I…’ahem!’–this thing found it’s way around my neck, my waist, my friends necks, my friend’s husband’s necks, etc. Quite the little party monkey he was! You’ve never seen something so funny as a 250 lb club member sporting sleeve tattoos with a stuffed spider monkey hanging off of him. Ha..ha.. Thanks for the story, giving me a good laugh, and jogging my memory!
    P.S. Said monkey is no longer with us. The chihuahua I purchased after I got it decided he liked it more than I did (description not necessary!). He retired from hanging out with me. When chihuahua unexpectedly passed, we honored him by placing ‘monkey’ with him. It was as it should be.

    • That’s AWESOME!! I’ve been inspired, I’m going to a wine event this Saturday and Drunky Monkey is coming with me!!

      • You go girl! Take your Drunky Monkey and your bad-self and go get lit!
        All you need now is a sticker for your car or t-shirt that reads “Don’t make me get my flying monkeys!”
        I myself have always been suspected of having a spare broom handy when the one breaks down, and plenty of ‘monkeys’ at my disposal. 😉

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