First off, Red Monkey Butt Room isn’t the official name of the room, it’s what I call it. Why? Because my father in law collects freakin baboon statuettes. But not just your regular ol baboon statuettes. He gets ones where the baboons are in compromising positions. Through the years, his undeniable passion for the sculptured stillness of the bending over monkey has resulted in a room with a dizzying sea of red butts. As if that weren’t bad enough, he hosts all his dinner parties in there! He even has candlesticks where the red monkey butt holds a candle shaped like a monkey sticking his butt up in the air. Just the thought of all those monkey butts makes me red! And my wife, God bless her, doesn’t see the big deal. She always says, “So what? You like eagles.” And she’s right, I do like eagles. That’s why I have ONE eagle blanket. Not a dinner room filled with red monkey butts!!! We’re supposed to go over there soon. I don’t mind he has them. But shouldn’t dinner be held somewhere else?