Bacon Bliss

Dear Beyoncé,

The Golden Ticket

Contributed by Sarah:

Of all the exciting and wonderful things that have happened in my life recently.. the *most* exciting is discovering that no one likes the “Crisp White” flavor of Franzia.  I know this because after a long weekend of avoiding responsibility, Lucy (the dog, not the married lady) put her paw on me and looked longingly into my eyes with the “let’s take a walk” look and I thought, “Damn, I’m out of boxed wine.” Well, at 6pm on a Sunday, Wal-Mart has pretty much been picked clean. Not only the booze section but also the milk, cheeses, lotions, breads, its ridiculous the assortment of “oh, I guess I can make do with this” that came home with me Sunday evening.  

Back to the point. When I rounded the corner into boxed wine mecca, my heart sank. No boxes of Chillable Red. No fruity red sangria.  No Cabernet Sauvignon.  Not even one box of the pink shit was available. What was available? 40 boxes of Crisp White.

What to do?  You bend over ten or fifteen times to see if maybe somewhere back in the dust is a lone chillable red that’s hiding in the showers. No luck. You contemplate buying too many bottles of $3 wine which would get you through the night. Then realize that no, that’s just not going to do. Ask yourself if Crisp White really could be that bad? No, it couldn’t, could it? Maybe we should try it just this once. Maybe. Let’s look one more time for the good stuff.

OH JOY! There’s an one off-brand Vella in “pink shit” (I’ve decided that’s the official flavor because my alcohol addled mind can’t think of the real name) flavor hiding among the Crisp White like that magical golden ticket or an Easter egg!   Sunday evening saved.

Lucy (again, the dog) got her walk around the block, I got my marginal quality wine and a good night’s rest. 

Dear OkCupid,

Dear Eye Doctor,

Two Night Stand

Contributed by Puddin' Pop Grace:

The first time we slept together I was drunk. Like, drunk to the point that I'm not sure how it happened. It was our first date. I had the "Grace is online dating Amber Alert" out to Chris. So I do know that at the second bar I texted her that you were normal, I just didn't feel any chemistry between us. 

But it was a slippery slope. You went for it, I was drunk and lonely and in need of some reassurance about my looks, so I went along with it. The next morning I smiled thinking of you. I was sure it was a one night stand, and I was fine with that. 

And then you called me again. I thought I must have read the situation wrong. Maybe you actually liked me. Maybe I could like hanging out with you. You weren't a bad guy, just not my type. I decided to give you another chance. 

I went to your house and met your roommates. We're the same age, but I'm at least 4 years older than you in practice. The house was a mess. Your roommates were stoned and eating cookies. 

We watched half a movie. We went to your room. We watched Spongebob and you took off my shirt. We slept together again. You fell asleep. I looked around your room while you were sleeping. There was jewelry from other girls. There was a large box of condoms in your trash can. I snuck out of your house, feeling empty. 

This isn't what I want. 

Dear 20-Something Men,

Rosetta's Stone

Contributed by Kris:

Do not, I repeat NOT, wear high heels in the stream.  You will thank me for this later.

First Date Voice Over

Contributed by Hush Puppy Grace:

Actual Thoughts I Actually Had on a First Date:

Oh, well he’s very attractive. Quite possibly more attractive than I was expecting. Oh shit, he’s too attractive. What the fuck am I doing here? Wait, what’s wrong with him? He’s hot, employed (with a good job even) and seemingly normal… Not a good sign.

I am way over dressed for this dive bar. One should warn someone when they are going to a new bar that, essentially, this bar is someone’s living room. They've got on full-fledged overhead lights. Not forgiving. Oh god, he’s going to see the massive pimple I’m trying to hide with a combination of concealer and swooping my hair just right over my forehead.

He says to me, “Breakfast is really important to you.” This is after discussing how I wake up early every morning and an off-handed comment on the amount of Eggo Waffles you can purchase from Sam’s Club. (48 in a box, in case you were wondering. It’s very economical.) This dude just drew conclusions about my life. Who does that? I just passively listen to people… Maybe I’m doing it wrong.

He’s really hot. I want to rip that cigarette out of his mouth and climb over this table and straddle him.

I think I just said “fuck” for about the thirteenth time in this conversation… He hasn't cursed once. Oh shit. This guy is going to think I am vulgar and classless and crude. This is definitely why I’m never going to hear from this guy again.

Wait, what if I am fooling myself into thinking he’s not going to call me because of my foul mouth.  Maybe he’s not calling me because I’m a terrible person.  Or because I’m not cute enough. Or because of that giant zit… Let’s just go with the cursing, that’s the best thing for my ego.

We’re saying goodbye. He gives me a hug. He says “Let me know if you think of something before I do.” What. The. Fuck. What does that mean? That actually means nothing. I spend the entire night and the whole next day obsessing about this line. I ask every person at work how to interpret this… “It probably means he wants to go out with you again.” “Maybe it was like word-vomit that just came out and he didn't even know what it meant.” “Maybe he’s perfected the art of getting someone to obsess over him by saying weird shit…. Yeah, I think I’m going to start using that line.”

Pet Deep

I think it's about time we dust off our raccoon. Er, spoon? Whatever. This blog, is what I mean. Let's dust it off. Break it in. Beat it out. 

Be advised: raccoonwithaspoon.com is meant to be lighthearted. Please don't get political or racist or religious (or anti-religious) or anything else that might make me feel the need to delete your post. 

As a kick start  Kris, I'm posting the email you just sent us. Cause it's cute. And well written. And I'd like a Bissell Pet Deep Cleaner. 

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Remember when I won that Bissell floor cleaner?  Here’s the review that I wrote for the Bissell website, with the secret hope that they will send me more free house cleaning equipment.  Also, it did a fantastic job.  So if anyone needs to borrow it, have at it!

Please note that I did not include the phrase, “As a busy mother of three precocious kids” like I originally wanted to do.  Restraint, how does it work??

Two thumbs and 6 paws up!

Have you ever had a moment when you realized that you were living in filth? For me that moment came this past Saturday after I cleaned my carpet for the first time with the Bissell Pet Deep Cleaner. I have 3 "kids", 2 long-haired cats and 1 hound dog. When they've made messes in the past, I was always quick to spot clean, but I had never used a carpet cleaner throughout my home. My carpet is only 3 years old, and it seemed to be aging gracefully. Or so I thought. After making a first pass with the Bissell Pet Deep Cleaner, I was both delighted and disgusted. Delighted because my carpet looked brand new and smelled so fresh! Disgusted because I pulled enough pet hair out of my carpet to assemble a new long-haired cat. I vacuum on a regular basis. But as I was changing the water in the cleaner for the third time, I realized how much a vacuum misses. The Bissell Pet Deep Cleaner was easy to assemble and easy to use. The Pet Stain and Odor Cleaning Formula made my whole house smell so wonderful and my carpet look so new! If you have a pet, or especially if you have multiple pets, I encourage you to give the Pet Deep Cleaner a try.

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Maybe we could start writing reviews for things we use in our daily lives...or happen to use randomly. Things we especially love or especially hate. 

The truth is, I'll probably get pretty lazy after this post (copying & pasting someone else's email is the opposite of lazy, yes?).  So it's OK if no one does it. But I'm gonna try. And you should too. 

Also, feel free to write about anything. Or post pictures or videos. Com'on, com'on. 

Take that, Facebook.