Or, THERE'S A MOTHERFUCKING SQUIRREL IN MY MOTHERFUCKING ROOF.
Or, many. There are many goddamn squirrels that like to run around in my ceiling around the time of sunrise every day.
That's what I wake up to, folks. I wake up to the pitter patter of little claws, scrambling around above my head, hoarding random shizz for the impending winter.
They make me want to kill babies (baby squirrels maybe) and are embarrassing when I have company.
"Oh don't mind those scraping noises above us...those are just my upstairs neighbors."
"I thought you said no one lived upstairs."
"Did I say neighbors? I mean obese rodents with poofy tails." Seriously, these things are so fat they have a hard time getting up the tree. You should've seen the one that was perched atop my rotting warty pumpkin the other day eating the little nubbins. Fatties through and through.
They fight make other noises too. Some squealing, some screeching, some other noises that are just absurd. Bitches and hoes they is, bitches and hoes.
In other more festive news, you should try these because they are brilliant and make all of my holiday dreams come true...in my mouth.
My suitcase is 46.6 lbs, by the way.