Confessions of a Crazy Raccoon Lady
Self-denial or intuitive creativity?
In the intuitive eating movement, you are told to eat what you feel like. Donut? Sure!
Oreos with a stein of heavy cream? Have at it!
A double-crust, cheese-filled meat lovers pizza? Why the hell not?
Walter White is your new spirit coyote and lifestyle guru. Feeling desperate because you’ve spent decades dieting and failing? You have nothing left to lose
In this spirit of intuitive living, I’ve begun to feed the raccoons. I felt guilty in the beginning until I remembered the enormous effort I make every day to be a nice person, and I still attract buttholes.
I calculated the biblical devotion I have given to following traffic laws and the number of people who drive clutching a gigantic bottle of blueberry vodka.
My inner Walter White has led me to a swirling eddy of freedom called AI-generated imagery.
In addition to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cat food, dog food, milk bone dog biscuits, fruit, tiny marshmallows, and the occasional scrap of meat, the raccoons are eating…
