Life does not have to be all serious. Here is where I will post funny things that I experience, read, or hear about. I will also post funny stories or expressions that I hear. I am hoping to bring smiles to your faces, and make life a little less serious for all of us.+
When I was 12, I lived on a farm. I was so pround to live on a farm, and my parents owned 100 acres. 100 acres, that was the thing I was most proud of. Now, a girl on 100 acres knows that in order to be a real cowgirl, you got to have real cowgirl boots, and a real cowgirl hat. You know, the kinds that have the pointed toes and take at least two weeks to break in. Well, anyway, I remember the day I got my first pair of real cowgirl boots. They weren't leather, they were just the vinyl kind, but they looked like leather, and who would really know, other than me, and my mom. Oh, I was so proud. I lived on 100 acres, and now I had the boots! I can't remember where the hat came from, I think it might have been my brothers, or maybe even my dads, but I remember wearing a straw cow "girl" hat as well. I was way cool, and I knew it. I am not sure that everyone else knew it, but I did, and that was all that mattered.
So, rodeo time was fast approaching, and I so wanted to show off my cowgirl boots, and my hat. My Dad mentioned that the rodeo was going to be having a section of time for kids to have the opportunity to ride bulls. (Really, they were only letting them ride the stears, but they were all boys, so what did I know.) Anyway, my father asked my little brother, by three years if he was going to ride. I am not certain if it was that year, or the year before, but my older sister had gone out for rodeo queen, so if you hadn't figured it out, we were all pretty cool, or rad if you remember the words we used back then. Well, when my brother spoke up about really wanting to enter the bull riding, I had to outdo him and knew that I could if I entered too. So, with my very cool cowgirl boots, and my hat, that belonged to someone else, I waddled out to the field where my father had our very large (or so it seemed to me) steer. I had a very cool waddle, and knew that I was way cooler than my brother even before I hopped onto that steer. Now, in those days, we didn't own a lot of jeans. They were expensive, and we didn't have a lot of money. We were still rich, or that was what my parents told me everyday, cause we had each other. Our family was worth more than any money in the world, and afterall, I had my boots, a hat, and 100 acres.
I approached the bull, and sized him up. Eh, I could handle this with no problem. I was sure that I could stick on his back long after the buzzer went off. So, my dad lifted me up to put me on that steer. The next few seconds went fast. Matter of fact, I don't remember actually being on that huge bull. He must have been the biggest bull available, I swear. Honestly, the next thing I remember was bing on the ground, looking up at the sky. I tried to stand up. My pants fell down. What the heck! My pants were ripped all the way down the back of the right leg. There was no way they were staying on on their own. Oh, how my butt cheek hurt as well, I figured that must have been the place he stepped on me. The tears began to well up in my eyes. I knew that I had lost. I wasn't more cool than my brother, and I knew it. Then, in the corner of my eye, I saw my boots. They were still on my feet, and yes, I was still cool. I waddled back to the house as fast as I could, and the tears never made their way outside of my eyes, cause I still had my boots and the boots make the cowgirl.
When I was five, we lived on a farm in Salem. I don't remember just how big it was, but for a five year old it was big. One day my daddy brought home a horse. It was huge. It was the biggest horse I had ever seen, or so I thought. It was really just a pony, but it looked big to me. Anyway, the pony was very pretty. She was black as coal, and her name was Smokey. My dad walked us all out to the field and asked us if we wanted to ride her. At five years old, I knew I was a cowgirl in the making, and I was game. I wanted to be first! I ran up to the horse and my dad, and was soooo excited. My dad knew that I was a great cowgirl, and he knew that I could handle this horse, even though she was huge. So, he lifted me up, onto her back. He gave me the reigns. I was a natural. Oh, Yah! I pulled on the reigns, and guided her to the other end of the field, or so I thought. I think back now, and maybe, just maybe, she was guilding me. Anyway, I was riding her bareback, the way real cowgirls do, and I was riding high on her back too. We were in the far end of the field, and came to the river (it was really just a ditch, and it was mostly mud, but seemed like a river to a five year old). the horse must have been thirsty cause she began to put her head down to that river to get a drink. As she put her head down, I held onto those reigns for dear life. They were the only thing that I had to hold onto on that horse, I was a real cowgirl, riding bareback, afterall. Well, the farther her head reached into that river, the higher on her back I scooted. Soon, I was up onto her neck. And then it happened. I couldn't do anything, as her neck turned into a giant slide and I was it's only rider. Splatt! I was no longer on the horse. I found myself in that very muddy river, covered in mud up to my neck. That horse and I became very good friends after that. I never held the reigns so tight again. When I guilded her to that river after that, I let her have the reigns very loose so she had plenty of room to get a drink. :-)
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