Recently informed that there was a struggle-rap creature by the name of “GloRilla” who apparently sings … “songs” … and “thrusts” … her … self across the stage in performances. 

Why is this a thing?

Welp, the Ice Cream Social really needs to do a better job of policing its image, because when a young … “woman” … chooses to evoke simian bromides as a representative moniker … y’all got probs.

Anyhoo, speaking of monkey probs, mine got way WAY bigger.  Like post-pathogen leucistic George and Kong had a baby on Skull Island that is currently rooting my pockets for bananas.

It’s doable.  It’s time and patience.  But MY HEAVENS was not planning on being here again. 
BUT but … men plan, and GOD gets the giggles. 

Thanks again, face-tatted monkey poo-flinger.  Meeting you really made my life. 

Anyhoo, here’s my Silverback bonobo on skin-popping methcrack.  Sheesh.

So without further ado (always ado, so much more ado) … the current monkey measurements:

Which doesn’t seem too bad But wait!  There’s moar …  See that’s just the credit cards and see that face-tatted poo-flinger cost WAAAAAAYYYYYHHHHNNNN more lots, and made my monkey even bigger!  So here’s the crazyfun part of that …

Total disclosure … that $45K was $50K and originally intended to cover some of the aforementioned above monkeynuts so some progress HOWEVER there is the face-tatted monkey— UCwhearahmat

Yah.  So there’s that.

Time and patience. 

Time and patience.

And bananas.  Lots of bananas.