Thursday, May 11, 2006

What's In A Name

It's true...I'm a hick. Why announce the obvious? Because sometimes I think I forget...or maybe others forget. Just because I ride those "fancy horses" now, doesn't mean I don't enjoy the company of a bunch of guys whose idea of grooming their horse is to make sure there is no mud where the saddle goes. It's not like I am there to check out their horses, right?

Last night I went to a roping. What's a roping? Where a bunch of cowboys and wannabes hang out, practice roping, and drink beer, usually with AC/DC or something similar blaring in the background. It rained last night, so of course they practiced indoors. Everyone that has a horse hangs out on the end of the arena with the chute, sitting on the horses like they are barcaloungers. Everyone else sits in the bleachers and hands out beer.

I refuse to be the "beer whench," so I offered to ride my cowboy crush's young cow horse around that he had brought along for the road trip. My half-broke barcalounger was a cute little blue roan colt that my cowboy crush calls "the blue roan." Seriously. Poor horse needs a name! So name the damn thing then!

I got bored(they aren't much for intellectually stimulating conversation), so I decided I would go lope some circles on the far end of the arena to see what I thought about the little blue roan. Plus it gave me a chance to hear them talk about me when they thought I couldn't hear them. HA! Silly cowboys, I have ears like a fox...hehehehe.

The little blue roan did pretty good; my cowboy crush had done a good job starting him. Then it began raining like hell. On a metal roofed barn. And I was on a half broke barcalounger. Yep, I'm glad I always check the saddle before I get on, because I needed it to be tight while the little blue roan panicked. It sounded like World War III was going on to that little guy, so it would be a bad time for the saddle to slip.

He was so little, it was like staying on a snake. Initially, I thought I would just let him calm down, and not do too much handling, because I could easily make Mr. Wobbly Legs fall. He hadn't exactly earned his sea legs yet. Not to mention the lack of brakes or knowledge of the word WHOA.

Easy, son...it's ok. I tried to talk him into calming down. CRACK! BOOM! The little blue roan scooted across the arena, where I steered him towards the wall. Whoa. Easy, son. Whoa. He slowed down, and I started flexing him to the right, asking him to touch his nose to my boot. This is my form of an emergency brake; works from the left too. I teach all of my horses to "whoa" this way, because I don't want to pull on both reins and teach them to brace against my hands...I always want them to give, be supple. (Ok, enough trainer 101).

After a few more successful whoa processes, the loud storm passed, and I jogged the little blue roan back to hang out with the guys just in time to hear they had been placing bets. You owe me 20 bucks, pay up. She stayed on. My cowboy crush had his hand extended to Mr. Stupidity on the ugly sorrel. Standing up in his stirrups, Mr. Stupidity grabs probably his last $20 until he gets paid Friday, hands it to my cowboy crush, then sits down. When your Wranglers are too tight, it's hard to get money out of your pocket sitting down.

I put the little blue roan in park next to my cowboy crush's pretty palomino, and decided to play with his head. So to speak.

What the fuck? Are you guys betting on me? Uh huh, but I knew you would stay on. That's why I put you on the blue roan anyways. Thanks for giving him some schooling.

Yeah, I heard this is the first time he's ever been out of the round pen, and the fifth time anyone's been up on him. Thanks, shit head.
I reached across and pulled the brim down on his ratty Illini ball cap. My cowboy crush looked panicked now, as he realized I heard everything they were saying about me while I was riding at the other end of the arena. To sum it up, it was pretty much about how he didn't know how to ask me out, and about how I was "too good" for any of the guys there. And about how the colt I was riding was greener than Spring grass after a thunderstorm. And how I had a nice ass...

So....um...didya name the colt? My cowboy crush mumbled, adjusting his hat back to it's normal, slightly crooked position.

Sure did. I'm naming him after his owner. What's that? Shit head.

22 Comments:

Blogger brian said...

Very smooth, I like when you snooker the guys. Serves them right, messing with cowgirl. Since he has a crush, why not BlueBalls? Have a good evening, see you tomorrow. It is kinda funny following your hoofprints around everyday, I am still buzzing over Shayna's poem about me, now I know how you felt.

2:17 PM  
Blogger BarnGoddess said...

you should come hang out! you'd fit in so well....and I think I need a new roping partner for Calvacade, my partner's job might be sending him off to another state. I can heel anything on 2 or 4 legs (usually)

2:50 PM  
Blogger Doug said...

Great story! I knew on an instinctive basis you should never trust in a woman's poor hearing.

2:56 PM  
Blogger Minka said...

Very impressive. You might get killed one day riding those unprepared horese! I bet you know that, but your mom felt I oughta tell ye again;)
Shit Head is such a harsh name for such a tiny horse...it´s a good name for the owner though!

5:37 PM  
Anonymous cooper said...

ha ha

I Was thinking a half-broke barcalounger was sofa of some kindin the bar and it waas broken. I had to read the story twice. I canbe pretty dense at times.

Good for you for staying on.

6:59 PM  
Blogger Major John said...

I like Brian's name for the horse!
As a shy type guy, I must empathize with "cowboy crush", however...

5:51 AM  
Blogger The ZenFo Pro said...

Lol...hey, gotta love shy-ass cowboys...

I learned a long time ago to never trust distance as a barrier for discussing a girl's ass. If she's within state lines, odds are she's going to hear about it...

Re: booty tight Wranglers...lean on the ass cheek opposite from wallet-bearing asscheek....using thumb and index finger, carefully extract wallet... (guys occassionally will have to grab 'n' tuck certain parts to accomplish this.)

See, it's easy to NOT draw attention to yourself when doing stupid guy things, like betting on a woman's riding skill... ;)

6:00 AM  
Blogger Cowgirl said...

Brian, I like it when I snooker the guys too. I think sometimes that is why they let me hang out with them sometimes. Lovely name for the horse; perhaps I will call him and tell him that...

I've got my bags packed, Barngoddess; let me know when you need me. Good thing that you can heel...;)

Your instincts are wonderful, Doug. Thanks.

Minka, the way I see it, I'm gonna go when it's time, so why not have fun doing it? And he isn't calling him Shit Head...

Coop, it probably would help if I explain the barcalounger thing more...that's what an old riding instructor of mine used to yell at us for using our horses for...if I had fallen off, OMG I would never had heard the end of it.

Major John,I like Brian's name too. Thinking about calling the cowboy and seeing if he likes that one better...he really is a good guy...perhaps I was a little harsh.

ZenFo Pro, I agree, I love dem cowboys...at least they were saying good things about the booty. ;)

6:41 AM  
Blogger brian said...

Thanks cowgirl,
Glad to see you doing better, e-mail me if you want to talk, if not, you know I'm here for you when you are ready. I wrote a poem for Minka because she said such nices things about me. You find the nicest people.
LU Brian

7:16 AM  
Blogger EsotericWombat said...

You sure know how to rope 'em ;)

Never really understood how wearing tight pants was anything other than masochism...

7:29 AM  
Blogger Kyahgirl said...

That's a great story cowgirl. You sure showed them a thing or two, about horses and women!

I enjoyed 'trainer 101' too. I admire your skills.

so did the shy guy ask you out yet?

7:37 AM  
Blogger Manchego said...

Great post, cowgirl! And the last one, too, about riding and spirituality. I love it! Thanks!

8:49 AM  
Blogger Cowgirl said...

Brian, I would like to think that I attract goodness...;)

Wombatty, sitting here masticating and trying to visualize you in tight pants...nope, not your style.

I prefer to be able to bend over and still be able to breathe. And I am not talking from my pants splitting either.;)

Kyahgirl, I am so going to post about the on going adventures of the cowboy crush...he IS cute...just don't know how many brain cells he has to rub together...

Manchego, welcome to my humble and sometimes vulgar languaged abode! Thank you for visiting, and come back soon!

9:07 AM  
Blogger ariel said...

I enjoyed your story a lot. and sorry but your saying "He was so little, it was like staying on a snake." cracked me up badly...

I love it you call horses "son".

it's very interesting when you give details of horse training.

9:18 AM  
Blogger Cowgirl said...

Ariel, I call the boys "son" and the girls "sister" or "mare". That's when I am trying to call them down and stay calm myself.

Sometimes I call them bad names too...like "Whoa bitch" "get off of me you bastard!" or "don't bite me fucker!" among other things...but usually things are not going so well then...;) Bad ponies bring out bad language, I am afraid...*sigh*

It was like staying on a snake! He was itty bitty and snake like. Bad glad you thought it was funny!

9:23 AM  
Blogger Doug said...

That's funny, Cowgirl. I worked for a Ranch Manager once who is still, to this day, my ideal for what a gentleman should be. I doubt there's a country club or legislature with a more refined man in it.

But, when cows would break down a fence or he spilled a loop at a gallop or something else went wrong while horseback he would cuss so blue it embarassed even my teenaged cowboy self. He wouldn't even keep the genders straight. An example, censored for my own protection might be

"F***in' Whore C**ksucking Sonofb*itch C*nt B*stard D*ickdragging Motherf*cker Sl*t!!!!!"

I guess some people have it some don't.

10:50 AM  
Anonymous pia said...

Great story. The Wombat took my comemnt--really

10:51 AM  
Blogger Kyahgirl said...

wow, that's quite a blue streak Doug. I can just imagine your teenaged self carefully cataloguing all those fine expletives away.

I got quite an education in swearing when I worked in one of our production plants for a few years. Me and about 60 guys. They were pretty careful around me but there's always times when they just don't know (forget that women have exceptional hearing).

10:59 AM  
Blogger Jake said...

I am amused by your wit, and cunning. Is this how you torture all of your crushes? ;)

I am reminded of a certain Shakespearean comedy... ever read the Taming of the Shrew?

8:27 PM  
Blogger Cowgirl said...

Doug, figured you would like this one.

I think I have it. ;)

Kyahgirl, I try to keep'em in line. I bet you cuss better than I do.

Pia, I'm shocked everytime you stop by. ;)

Jake, are you one of my crushes?;) And yes, I have read The Taming of the Shrew.

1:04 PM  
Blogger Jake said...

I refuse to be a mere crush darlin'. ;)

11:17 AM  
Blogger Cowgirl said...

You certainly have my attention, Jake.

11:21 AM  

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