The problem with horses is… they move.
I was on a runaway horse once. I was about five or so. The farmer leading me, Queen of farm animals, and the horse dropped the lead for a minute, see. The horse, recognizing the opportunity, weighed its options… run back to the farm for chow OR listen to an inexperienced girl child with high falutin' ideas about what she's capable of yanking on the reins. Food won and in a split second the horse bolted through a fruit orchard with me on its back, pigtails a-flying. (Mine, not the horses. Pigtails on a horse would just be silly.)
You know what? Branches hurt. After it was all over, it didn't occur to me to be afraid of horses. Which means I'm either brave or stupid, your choice.
There's a life metaphor in there somewhere.
Snarky fucking metaphors.
Anyway, I'm getting back on top. (Heh. That's what she said!) (Wait, that doesn't make sense because that is what I said. hmmm)
Anyway redux, I've got a post on MC Hammer pants over at Culture Brats! I know you all still wear them. And I KNOW, I just know, that someone out there is going to tell me, "But they're so comfy!" and/or "You're just jealous that you can't wear them!" Because every single time I do a post knocking fashion someone tells me I'm just jealous.
You know what I'm really jealous about? I found these after I posted over at Culture Brats!
These must have belonged to a horse.
(Can't ride this.)
– the weirdgirl
Oh, my, you’re too funny! I think I have something to fill those. Or… am I really posting that? Ha!
That’s one thing I haven’t done since childhood that I want to do again–go horseback riding. The last time I rode a horse I was a little boy. And my sister, Elaine, was riding another horse alongside me. Then my horse stopped to eat grass. Elaine said, “Hold on, Scott.” And before I could even reply, she whipped my horse with a branch. And the horse took off like wild, and I cried my eyes out–I was terrified! But being older now, I might even enjoy a wild ride like that–it might be quite a “rush”!