Hot, steamy monkey love.
I love this monkey. In fact, I don't think words can express how much I adore this picture. Found it at the Swapatorium site.
A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.
6 Comments:
I'm afraid. Very, very afraid.
I admit it, I've got this weird thing for monkeys. Monkeys in fezes, Monkeys inflicting communicable diseases on labratory testers, Monkeys looking incredibly pissed off at the circus? Love 'em.
Nope, they don't know what's wrong with me.
Heh.
That is an awesome monkey.
Know who else just loves monkeys, especially of the sock variety? Jill Conner Browne, who is forever my heroine, as well sa the Boss of all the Sweet Potato Queens.
Monkeys of the sock variety positively melt my butter. SO. Cute.
I've made a few, but I think they tend to signal a change (not usually for the better) in the friend/relation-ship I'm in. Hrm.
Then make socktopi.
I want a socktopus soooooo bad.
Monkeys are awesome, too, until you read the Steven King short story about the wind-up monkey of death like I just did less than a half hour ago.
I looked at this monkey differently the second time around.
Hmm.
Oh bleaaaaaaaagh! I HATE those creepy cymbal playing monkeys. Seriously. They freak me out- thank you AGAIN, Mr. King. *shudder*
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