My brother, Cameron called me into the kitchen to see a raccoon rooting through a trash bag in the back yard. I respond by saying, "the season of the coon is upon us." ( I like to be dramatic when it's appropriate.)
So last night, I'm walking out of my bedroom and see a raccoon eating from our cats food bowl. I was a little tipsy and my white trash came out like a bullet. "IT'S A GOD DAMN COON!" I ran out of the house flailing my arms yelling, "GIT ON OUTTA HERA YA GOD DAMN COON!"
Meanwhile, while all of this is happening my boyfriend, Brian is playing internet poker and never looked up once...we balance each other out very nicely.
So, mere minutes later the raccoon returns to where the food bowl was, but I had brought it inside. And the same scenario occured.
Well, the reason for this post is that I usually try to keep a certain poise about myself...but the alcohol never lies. I like chasing after coons with my oversize tweety bird t-shirt and gray leggings. (That's not exactly true but not very far off.)