Raccoons are just rats with a cuter outfit!

Tough weekend for the most part. I did a training for the sexual assault, domestic violence, and stalking prevention program on campus. I’ve kind of let my interest in some of these activities slide a bit in the past couple of years, but this was enough to rekindle my anger in these issues. Anyway, it was tough to get through. I wonder to myself how I made it through when I was working at a job where I dealt with this stuff day in and day out, for well over forty hours a week. *Roommate* says it must be that I’m tougher than I think. Anyway, but there was an enjoyable event that did occur. Saturday night I went to a polisci party that I felt obligated to attend. Anyway, I had to be at school early again on Sunday, so I pooped out and left the party early. My friend Biker Boy said he would walk me home since *roommate* was busy getting drunk and didn’t want to leave the party. So we’re walking down a fairly major street in the great City of Lakes. And I hear a rustle coming from a tree next to the sidewalk. I look over and see this cute little raccoon face staring at me, at EYE LEVEL. I squeal like a little girl, grab Biker Boy’s arm, and run far away from the raccoon. All I can think about is how mean raccoons are. Biker Boy glances over, sees the raccoon and says, “hey, I think there’re two of them.” Sure enough, when I look back, there are TWO raccoons staring at us. I scream again. And run. And Biker Boy laughs. And laughs. And as soon as I turn the corner I begin to laugh and laugh and laugh. Getting the shit scared out of you is apparently a good thing. The laughter was cathartic. And I need that. And now Biker Boy is getting a stuffed raccoon for Christmas.