Up on the roof...

I promised Jess I'd share this story.

This is my dear friend (and Jess' husbeau) Chris:

Chris and I didn't know each other until he and my bff started dating. The first night she pointed him out to me, I thought he seemed arrogant...but then, I'm generally okay with that. His first interaction with me involved a conversation about pencils that we won't get into right now. Let's just say, I made an impression.

So, yeah--I love Chris a lot. I've even been made "Wife #2" (mostly because Jess doesn't like the mall half as much as we do). But here's the thing--Chris loves to throw food. No gathering is ever safe. Carrots. Reese's Pieces. Dinner rolls. Each time I've moved, I've found Reese's cups behind the couch...peanut M&Ms under the entertainment center. And it can be a point of major contention because I'm always torn. On one hand, I'm going to have to clean it all up. But on the other--handfuls of halloween candy thrown up into a ceiling fan in a crowded room is priceless. The duck and run? Please. I don't care who you are, that's funny.

The other night, my friends threw me a little birthday shindig. There were lots of treats...and of course, the inevitable happened. I look up at one point and Chris, Ron and Dave are standing by the table and Chris has this look on his face. Dave reaches out to move the curtain back from the window (it was open) and Chris yells, "Nonono! I want it to go through the curtain!" And the next thing I know, he's pitching chocolate chip cookies out the window (and incidentally, onto the roof).

Let me explain briefly about B's apartment--it's above a coffee shop. And so, all you have to do is step out of the windows in her living room and you're on the roof of the shop. It's fabulous.

Alright. So, fast forward a few hours. Everyone has left and B and I are sitting around, talking and (me, being sad my birthday was over) picking at leftover cookies. We happened to be sitting near the window and right in the middle of a very serious discussion I see-out of the corner of my eye-something move out on the roof. At this point, I've tuned out whatever B was saying. I look over and right under the windowsill is a big fat raccoon, mid-creep, looking up at me. A lot like this:

Yeah, yeah, like that, but he was way fatter. And a lot more evil-looking.
Evil like this guy:

Yeah. That's more like it. Ok, so I promise you, in a mere 3 seconds, I imagined this fat bastard glowing-eyed, rabid raccoon hopping up into the apartment and attacking my face. So I did what any great friend would do...I ran out of the room, screaming for B to "CLOSE THE WINDOW!" If Ricky The Fat Bastard Raccoon was going to maim one of us, it had to be her. B's really sweet, kind, fun and compassionate. She has a lot more going for her. Me? My face is all I have, people.

B slammed the window shut and we waited. After several minutes of us really enjoying the mental picture of me running madly around the apartment trying to wrestle a fat raccoon off my face--we opened the window back up and leaned out to take a look. What did we find? I'll tell you. We found Ricky's paw prints leading over to a damn cookie that was right outside the window.

The fat bastard tracked a cookie up onto the roof.

And I almost got rabies and lost my face.

I hope Chris is happy.