Let's not talk about cowboys butts right now. Let's talk about me.
Stop, rewind. I'll talk about me and you just listen. Works for me.
Have you ever wondered about the schizophrenic existence of one of your friends? You've known them for awhile. You've loved them for awhile. You've spent time with them, discussed the world, religion, family life, politics. You know their value system. You've spent time with their kids.
My daughters present great insight into who I am and what I'm about. Most of my friends have had my daughters either teach their children, babysit their children. At some point, most of them have spent time with Bonnie and Emma themselves.
In a nutshell, with the help of my daughters, here I am.
I'm politically fanatical and active.
I'm a progressive to the marrow of my bones.
I'm a teacher.
I'm more than an avid reader. I am a ridiculously avid reader.
If there is a documentary on, I'm watching it and so are my kids whether they want to or not.
My favorite show is Frontline.
I'm 50 and I pretty much don't care what anyone thinks about me anymore.
I say what I mean and I mean what I say.
I'm a "feminazi." My daughters love that term.
I'm very particular about what I like.
My sense of humor is dry and sarcastic.
I believe that social justice should be our first and foremost priority in life.
I don't "do" camping, or dirt, or bugs, or swimming anywhere if I can't see my toes.
I only tolerate gardening because I have gloves and I love my rose bushes.
I absolutely hate to sweat and dirt on my body brings about squealing and running to the nearest INDOOR bathroom with an INDOOR shower.
So why would I watch the PBR enjoying the hell out watching a bunch of cowboys ride bulls? And.., having the time of my life just sitting in family room glued to the TV?
Hard to say.
I could say, "How the hell would I know. I just woke up and there I was."
I could say, "I enjoy watching how the other half lives." I'm not supposed to be a cowboy lover although I have my own horse. She's a priss through and through.
Just a joke, don't get up and try to find me so that you can sock me and then lecture me on my "snobbishness." Although I don't get the chewing and spitting. That is just disgusting!!! I mean, would anyone like it if I chewed bread and instead of swallowing just spit it out, on the floor, or in a can, or on the sidewalk as I was walking by? NO, they would not but it seems perfectly appropriate to chew some nasty looking brown dirt and spit out the juice. Are you kidding me?
I could say one of my family members is a competitor and I'm showing my faithful support but I don't have any family members left and I was an only child.
The truth? I love, love, love, cowboys. I love the wranglers they wear. I love their chaps and the way they frame their ass. I love their hats. I love their boots. I love the horses. I LOVE the smell. I keep records of the top 20 riders and bulls.
But, oh my, I really love the wranglers, chaps, and ass.
Sometimes I want to slap myself and say "Grow the F*&! up. For Pete's sake, you're almost 50."
I can't help myself, I can't. I'd go to detox if I could.
No I wouldn't. I love it too much.
I watch it every weekend, with Beau, who happens to like the bulls. He's a stupid dog. He barks when the bulls are on but then looks away when it's just the cowboys. What an idiot.
|Okay, my heart is starting to beat|
There you go. That's the truth. My friends are confused and perplexed. In the beginning, I think they thought I was just going through a phase. You know - mid life crisis, blah, blah, blah. Nope. Now I believe they think I'm schizophrenic. It's a topic of discussion for them. I don't care, put me away. Just make sure I have the VS channel so I can get my weekly fix.
So for your enjoyment: pictures from my last PBR trip.
|Just a little more to the left but the side views great too.|
|Highlighted, Oh my|
|No words needed|
|Yep, I'm definitely off the deep end.|