boobies & monkey farts

I'm emerging from four days of monkey mascoting at the New York Chocolate Show. It was one day longer than i've ever done in costume. Two consecutive days is a killer, while four...i still feel a sub-human hollowness in my head. For the first time in my life, i'm actually tempted to pay for a massage, partly to hear the masseuse say, "Mother of Mary, what the blessed fuck have you been doing?"
The most amazing chocolate taste of NYCS 2010? It's a tie between Sendall Chocolates TOFFEE TABOO, and NibMor organic dark with almonds. Sendall was our neighbor, and kept a plate stocked for us. An amazing thing happened, something that's never happened before. Whenever i had time to wander and sample, i could not walk one step further than our neighbor's plate. Any combination of toffee and dark chocolate makes me point (a relic of my childhood passion for Heath bars). They had the dark, with toffee-coated nuts and white drizzle. I was still stuffing my face after four days, which does not happen - i usually only eat sweets once a week or so. And NibMor? It's oganic and vegan. I wasn't gobsmacked when i sampled it at the show, but when i took it home, refrigerated it, and took a larger bite, i commenced to EAT the entire bar. Again, something that never happens.
I have a confession to make about Bananas, the monkey. And if his new friend Heather is reading this, it pains me to think i may forever sully a beautiful monkey crush.
Ready?
Occasionally in the life of Bananas, there are moments when i'm just staring at boobies or blowing monkey farts.
Not often! Maybe a minute or so out of a whole day. And never so that anyone notices. But an eight-hour shift in that suit is a bizarre, surreal trial of endurance, even with nice breaks. After the first hour, you accept living with perpetual pain. And while i normally give a dismissive look to those who claim, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity", they're perhaps not total morons...in addition to the 105 degrees in the suit, there's a humidity factor that's probably comparable to actual rain. So in moments of weariness when suddenly there's a lull in the human energy around me...well...
My eyes rest on some occasional boobies, because no one in the world has any idea what my eyes are doing.
Actually, i don't think that's true...i think a big part of the success of Bananas is commitment to character, and that people are perceptive to purity of focus. So maintaining character is the feat hidden within the feat. Can you mesmerize an audience with a Shakespearean sonnet? Now can you do it while tiny, unseen needles sporadically pierce you?
I've even blown occasional quiet farts while in the middle of an interaction, but only with adults who see Bananas as a mildly-interesting photo op, and not the loving force of nature he is.
The highlight of the show was when Heather, a vendor at another booth, called Bananas over as he was passing by, saying that her friend needed a hug. I thought it might be some obligatory silliness, but i was game. Seven seconds later, i realized that something special was happening, as this poor woman melted into me. I was suddenly reminded that multiple layers of clothing and costume can't block the energy of genuine human connection. I try to time monkey hugs to release at precisely the same instant as the person i'm hugging, neither leading nor following (if you think that sounds easy, try it). But she quietly held me like she never wanted it to end. I was reminded of how mind-numbingly paralyzing a woman's breasts can feel, if two bodies or spirits align perfectly. It felt like she hadn't been hugged right in a long time. Once or twice my spiritual energy said, "She must be done now?" But she wasn't, so i kept on slowly rubbing her back through my monkey hand. So, so beautiful.