Grown Man Nanny

It is probably hard to believe but I’ve been known to procrastinate now and then especially when it comes to a grimy friend of mine - personal hygiene. Now don’t distress and get your togas in a twist, there won’t be any need for a keelhauling on this short voyage. After all I’m not a 21 ton baby Huey anymore and most of the time I DO double up on the Depends so as not to drag my duff through the rough, regardless of the load in tow. 

Never fear, my bodily burdens are more of the HAIRborne, nails, and  ‘stuff’’ sucked up and stuck in the grill variety, so that targets me as the charter inductee into the lame Werewolf hall of fame. I don’t like having these crosses to bear, especially around hunting season, mirrors, or balloons at children’s parties because trimming twigs off my trunk and buffing the bark from my bite takes so much time. Since both my mother and wife apparently have dropped the ball and indignantly refuse to lift a middle finger to help, it’s clear what I need now is to nab a new man nanny sans my family’s attitude. 

Just think of all the ablution solutions and dermis concern-less we could have together if I had my very own, grown man ‘nan’ to care for my keratin. Finally someone I could trust more than All Bran to bring some regularity into my life and service my rosy personality and other misbehaving chapped Macaque parts. Who better to tend to the day to day flossing and saucing of my scaly uncharted cracks and crusty crevices, bushy brows, and double-stuffed n’ damp snout?

What – you don’t approve? I thought these days society was supposed to be truly drool-free and completely color blind, so I don’t see why pink nebbish newborns and gray sulking seniors are the only ones who qualify to be nurtured and ‘nannyfied’? What’s wrong with a pale n’ pants-less over-grown ‘man-ne-CANT’ service monkey like me needing a little extra claw-clutching comfort from a callus confidante or hair care Au pair? I still will do all of the heavy lifting like eating  3 squares or more per day and hauling at least half of my wide load to and fro the commode – uh … at least MOST of the time.