Vintage dixiblog, from 2007: It’s a cold day outside, and I’m enjoying it by having the window open and wearing my friendly sock monkey pjs. Life is good.
I start to turn, and the Stinker pulls my arm to turn me back where I started. Huh?
“I’m looking at the sock monkey on your pajamas,” she explains. “There’s sock monkey on a date.”
“Well that’s good. That’s good to know,” It is, I think. “Even sock monkeys should get lucky sometimes.”
“Mooooommm! I can’t believe you just said that. That is so wrong!”
“What? What’s so wrong about it? Why shouldn’t sock monkeys have their fun? ”
“That’s just WRONG! That’s disturbing.”
“Not to other sock monkeys. I say, Let Sock Monkey get a little action. He deserves it. He’s a versitile guy. He cooks and cleans and everything. Why shouldn’t sock monky have a little noogie? I think he deserves it.”
Somewhere around then, she said I was nuts or something. I dunno. I was kind of in my own vision of sock monkey world, where our hero lives, working and playing and getting his occassional action. Good for him!
Well, hell. It’s rude. That’s what it is. But you know, sometimes, people are rude. But damn.
I was outside, minding my own business. I am pretty good at that–minding my own business, that is. Actually, I was watering my flowers. One of my neighbors was outside, visiting with a friend of his. I was mostly not paying attention. But something perked up my ears…
“…what about the crazy cat lady?” says the neighbor. Huh? Crazy cat lady?