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The Wildlife Conservation Society is auctioning off the naming rights for this new species of monkey.

Ante up, apes.

It's a titi monkey.

Lord A'mighty, this opens up a whole range of names.

Pamelus Andersonii
Annanicolus Smithicus
Raquelus Welchus

etc.

Wolfman Jack or RedBeard Pirate Monkey

I was thinking the Snuffleupagus Monkey, or the Rodman Monkey, or barring that, the That Dude From The Spin Doctors Monkey.

Would the Code of Zoological Nomenclature have a problem with a Dung-chuckus Maximus, Orange Haired Banana Troll, or Stan?

The monkey is about 15 inches high, weighs about 2 pounds and has gold...

The monkey would be so much more interesting if the sentence actually stopped there.

And if we're going to ante up for a monkey, shouldn't we get the name "Bingo" in there somewhere? (Is that not the name of the 9622 monkey?)

Thundersluttus Maximus.

aine42, that's where my train of thought was headed. Shouldn't there be a BingoTheBadHabits officianalus?

Or Rufus T. Badass. That also has a nice ring to it.

I dub thee Ookla.

Bingo Cardoso.

I would call him Fartknocker, just so's I could read it in all the journals.

I vote for "Jethro Q. Walrustitty."

Bingo Cardoso! Yes! Wait -- is this species fond of beer nuts?

Bingo is indeed his Name-o. I've been thinking of doing a different one for a little bit, but that bugger is so damn charming.

OK, so last night, we're sound asleep at 3:04 a.m., and all of a sudden there's this noise, and the wall falls down in our bedroom.

I am not making this up.

Luckily, the cold winter wind was not blowing through the bricks, but all of a sudden, the closet is in the bedroom, the dogs are all jumping on the bed, the clothes are on the floor, and I am laying there trying to pretend that I dreamed this.

Prominent in the heap on the floor are Mardi Gras beads, lots and lots of Mardi Gras beads, and spools of thread. Many colors of thread, and beads. But this is not a dream.

My oldest cat usually sleeps on the heating vent in that closet, so after I determined that she was not squashed there, I went back to sleep.

When I left for work this morning, she was sitting in front of the mountain of beads and thread, squawking. I left her to figure it out.

Now, tonight, I am drinking many bottles of wine instead of trying to figure out where to begin with the thread, the clothes, a turquoise feather boa, a fedora.

Where did it all come from? Was I a stripper in a past life?

Anybody got a spare wall?

Holy shit! (You've had a crazy couple of weeks, eh?)

Did you put the beads in there? Or is this just Gypsy Rose Lee's old place?

Hey, you showed me your tits, I HAD to shower you with beads. That's just the way of my people.

* lifts shirt, waits for beads *

What? Oh, so it's a gender-specific thing, is it?

Hmmph.

State-specific, yhbc. I'll toss some rocky mountain oyster necklaces your way.

Fuck, good enough for Reba, good enough for me.

Appropos of nothing, I've created a bathroom graffiti Flickr group. Anyone interested can join round about here. I love me some bathroom graffiti.

"Did you feel the earth move?"

"No, honey, just the wall."

Apropos of nothing?!? Heh, you did it to mock me, Ufez. I mean, seriously, don't you think I'd like to have a wall to write graffiti on? *weeps*

Um, yeah, those beads were all mine. Not the cheesy little plastic ones - these are the awesome ones, the big jewels. With the boa and the fedora, they make an ensemble.

Crazy couple of weeks? You could say that.

What an unpleasant way to wake up! (The only solace I can offer you, tizzie, is that with a bosom as magnificent as yours, I can imagine that you'd get the bestest of the plastic beads. Cold comfort, I know.)

So did you find anything that had been hidden IN the wall? Like dubloons or Hoffa or anything?

I don't for a second believe our dear, sweet, animal-rescuing tizzie would display her magnificent mams for something so trifling as beads.

Until I see photographic evidence, that is.

I, too, choose and continue to believe that the Tizmistress shall not exploit her embonpoint for anything less than the finest trinketry in all of christendom!

Look, just whup em out and nobody gets hurt.

Bosoms!

You rang?

*loads beads lovingly into catapult, aims gently westward*

*prepares bead-catapult for eastward launching - hopes tizzie will survive the crossfire*

A heavenly rain of BEADS!!!

It's raining beads!
Hallelujah!
It's raining beads!
Amen!

I'd like to draw you Thundersluts' attention to the Thundercats.

It's not pornographic, but it almost seems like it could be.

Ooh. Unspeakable evil. Scary.

That's unspeakably unsettling.

Neuroscientists at Duke University discovered that rhesus monkeys will give up a portion of hard-earned perks for a peek at pictures of the dominant leaders and nubile females in their troop. But they won't pony up to look at faces of subordinate simians.

Duly noted.

Ah, they're tops, eh?

By the way, I passed by this place tonight.

I've got cheese and grapes and Salt & Vinegar chips and bottled waters and fried chicken and boiled eggs and roasted pecans and red pears and oatmeal cookies and I'm going on a picnic.

I'm also baking a loaf of french bread. For atmosphere.

I'd be toting vino, too, but the Scout camp frowns on it.

Damn, that sounds good.

Puts my burned toast to shame.

Screw you both. I made potstickers tonight. With ground pork, chinese cabbage, a shitload of chives, garlic, ginger, and the whole works. The missus and me wrapped up, pan-fried, and steamed about 50 of the scrumptious little suckers, and ate about a dozen. Each.

No, you can't have any. We're saving the rest.

So, what have we become, hereswhatimeatingatthemomentfilter? Because if that's the case, I'll have to check in more often.

I made small grilled round steaks seasoned with sea salt and olive oil, roasted baby asparagus, a romaine heart-spinach-bok choi salad with ceasar dressing and parmesan, a tray of cherry tomatoes, cucumber sticks, little swiss cheese wedges, dill pickle chunks, tart red grapelettes, chorizo salami and slices of navel orange, and a diet coke.

Ok, two diet cokes.

For breakfast, egg-soysausage-and-cheese sandwiches. For lunch, potato-leek-sour-cream soup. For dinner, kick-ass turkey burgers.

Frozen pizza, frozen pizza, frozen pizza.

KFC. But the meal, with cake and pop. If anyone is living the high life, it's me.

for breakfast, coffee. For lunch, tater tot & beer, for dinner, diner steak & eggs & beer.

for once, I get to post what I ate legitamitely. cool.

I might have some popcorn in a little while. Maybe not. That damn microwave has so many buttons.

Whoa. Nevermind. A friend of mine left his fortune cookie in my kitchen. Not only did I get dinner, but I found out that any troubles I may have will pass very shortly. Score.

If anyone is paying attention to the Oscars, you may find this amusing. I have a poll on the company intranet site asking which film will win "Best Picture." In addition to the nominated films, I added "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle."

It is currently in the lead with over 40% of the votes.

A friend of mine left his fortune cookie in my kitchen

I got nothing.

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