I came home from the grocery store tonight to find my front porch overrun by baby raccoons. When I walked toward the steps, a few of them scattered, but two of them climbed up on the railing and stayed there despite my clapping, stomping, and super-scary growling.
This is what a dork I am. I knew they probably just climbed up there because they were dumb and scared, but I was still too afraid to walk past them to get into the house. The door was locked, and I had nine or ten heavy bags dangling from my wrists. Plus--and really, I am a dork--I'd just figured out I'd punctured a can of beer by slamming it into the trunk because it was spewing out all over my arms, feet, and food.
I was off-balance, covered with beer, and all of a sudden convinced they'd crawled up there so they could attack me somehow, maybe by leaping down onto my face as I fumbled with my keys, plucking my eyes out with their precious little hands and eating all my groceries as I reeled blindly around the front yard, shooting geysers of blood out of my eyeholes.
I fought with myself for a while: That would never happen, that's stupid. But aren't raccoons aggressive? You're being completely retarded, they don't just lie in wait to attack humans. Probably not, but do you really want to risk rabies shots and facial scarring? I hate you. Hee hee hee.
So I did what anyone would do, stand helplessly on the front walk for ten minutes and halfheartedly throw rocks at the porch while hoping they'd climb down and go away. Then I remembered I had a key to the back door, so I thrashed through our dark, overgrown, spider-web covered backyard, found the correct key by the light of my camera's LCD screen. I am a genius, y'all.
Oh, and these are most likely the little bastards who live under our bathtub. I'm not sure how to do this, but I think it's time I encouraged them to relocate. I don't find them cute.
In other news, Eric and I attended a wedding last night. There were a lot of work people there, and it was good to see everyone again, especially since we were all dressed up, relaxed, and ready for a good time. The last time I saw everyone we were all slovenly, weird, and ready to throw ourselves into traffic after 17 straight days of work. So it was a good wedding and a fun party. Although as always, my mind started to wander during the ceremony.
I'm not particularly interested in getting married, but whenever I go to a wedding I always make a game of imagining what my wedding would be like, if I had any desire to put one together. So during one of the readings last night, I almost disgraced myself by laughing because I decided if I got married I'd want someone, Wain probably, to read, totally deadpan, the lyrics to The Ace of Spades.
The pleasure is to play/
Makes no difference what you say/
(eye contact, lowered voice)
I don't share your greed/
The only card I need is/
(dramatic pause)
The Ace of Spades.
(dramatic pause)
The Ace of Spades.
(bows head)
I don't even particularly like that song. I just thought it would be really funny to wear a pretty, pretty dress and stand up in front of all my friends and family and watch everyone try to figure out what the hell Motorhead had to do with anything.
I told Eric about my plan and he agreed that would be grand, but for symmetry's sake, we should get someone from the groom's side to read from NWA's Dopeman.
It might be your wife/
It might make you sick/
(dramatic pause, solemn nod)
Come home and see her mouth on the dopeman's dick.
Dopeman.
So if after nine years together, Eric and I decide we want to get married after all, that'll be why.
Also the wedding had a mariachi band, which was way cool and helped me decide that I want a mariachi band to follow me around all the time and play a little horn flourish every time I do anything good, like yell something witty at the TV or make a perfect egg. I think I could afford it if I got a second job and reshuffled my priorities a little.