New saddle!!!!

The new/ old saddle came on Tuesday!!!!! Very excite!

Got it from a member of the FiSH forum from one of the thousand "Tack for Sale/ I Need Tack" threads. Can't remember the brand, but it's hardly top of the line. Unfortunately, I needed a new saddle right now, as my ass had finally done what it had threatened to do for the last few years, grow too big for my old saddle. Now I could whine and say I got that saddle when I was a skinny, tiny-butted 13 year old, but I choose instead to use it as motivation to lose weight. Regardless, weight loss is a slow process, and I didn't want to be without a saddle. I'm poor, though, and the really nice saddles, even used, were pretty much out of my price range and I'm not about to blow my paltry savings at this stage of the game.

So I bought the saddle. It came in a HUGE box full of packing peanuts, much to the kitty's delight. I was chasing down stray peanuts so she wouldn't eat them. She eats funny things. Bits of lint, splinters of wood, scraps of plastic, I feel like a mom rushing around after a toddler. "What are you eating?!?! Don't eat that!!"

Anyway, so I (in my English riding ignorance) took awhile to figure out how to put the stirrups back on the fenders. I figured it out, but put them on backwards. Oh well, learn by doing, I guess.

Then I took it out to the barn to try out. Set it on the back of my grumpy, shedding an entire matress-worth of hair per day horse. She was no more pissed off than usual, so good sign! Checked the fit, and all seemed good. Fit nicely over the withers, no bridging, back sat evenly, clear trough over spine. Excellent!

So I saddled up. Took several minutes fussing over the stirrup length. Reason #2 for cheapness, the holes on the fenders SUCK. (Reason #1 is that it's part synthetic.) I mean really suck, they don't even fit the buckle. That's OK, I was determined, and got the damn stirrups adjusted and secured. I'm the only one who's going to ride in this saddle, so it doesn't matter if the stirrups are not very adjustable.

Once I was done fiddling with the cinch (first time ever cinching up with a 3-way rigging system), I led my horse around the arena a few times. Tightened the cinch, got an angry face and some pinned ears, but nothing unusual.

Mounted up. Holy shit! Discovered Reason #3 for cheapness. I was sitting on the tree. There is no padding whatsoever in that seat. Stirrups felt good though, and horse seemed content, so I rode anyway. Walk trot canter uphill downhill, horse seemed perfectly happy and thankfully acted like there wasn't a big fat rider on her back squirming around trying and find a comfy seat.

Finally, the big fat rider gave up and decided to buy a butt cushion. There have been great advancements in butt cushion technology, I've heard. Ordered a couple, and we'll see if one (or both together, the seat really is that hard) will work. I hope so.

Even with buying an nice butt cushion, this saddle was heck of a deal. It only has to last until I can find/afford a nice one, and it fits the horse, so I can't complain. I needed something cheap (check), fits my ass (check), fits my horse (check) and isn't falling apart (check). So now I just have to ensure rider comfort, and we're good to go.

I hope my butt cushion comes soon.

Behavior

We think we're so high and mighty as humans, so much better than the creatures we eat, keep as pets or ride for our amusement. We have brains, we can reason, we can think! The lowly cow is far more base, more primitive than our superior frontal lobes.

I'm coming to believe that really isn't the case.

There was a heifer at the dairy who was very reluctant to go back to her pen after milking. The pens and alleys are bordered by a heavy, electrified cable that shocks the hell out out anything it touches. Ask me how I know.

Poor heifer accidentally hits the fence and gets shocked. Heifer's little brain says "I went over there and I got shocked! That sucks, I'm not going to go there again." So try as we might, no tail twisting, prodding or swearing will get the heifer back in her pen. I get the brilliant idea to take the fence down, turn it off and try to drive her through the much wider opening than the alley provides. It works! Poor heifer has issues with the fence for about a week.

There's a professor that I hate talking to. Every time I see this person, I always feel like a complete and utter moron. Never fails. Now I really need to talk to her about something, but I'm putting it off. Why? Every question I ask is met with more questions that unfailingly make me feel like I don't know jack crap and should get a job with Jack In The Box immediately and forget school.

My tiny brain thinks, "I go to her office and get reamed. That sucks, I'm not going back there again." Just like the heifer. Unlike the heifer though, who felt no shame or compunction over avoiding the narrow opening of the alley into her pen, I fight with myself over it. "Go to her office. The door's open, she's there. It's just a little question, how bad can it be?" Well, she could ask me for the thesis I haven't written yet, she could ask me for the data I haven't analyzed yet, she could berate me for not coming and asking this question sooner. "Good point. Maybe we'll wait for tomorrow."

And for some reason I think I'm better than the cow.

Tattoos

I love tattoos. They're quite the obsession of mine, and nothing makes me happier than seeing a beautiful woman or hot man with an equally hot tattoo. I've got three of my own, and I'm hoping to add to them/touch them up soon.

One of my guilty pleasures is looking at bad tattoos online. I love seeing pics of people with hideous, badly done and downright WTF were you thinking tattoos.

But the problem that I have is, would you say that to their face? Would you honestly tell someone that their tattoo is bad? I wouldn't.

1. It could very well mean something to them. It may be a dumb unicorn to you, but to them it could be a memorial of their child who died but loved unicorns in life. Would you want to be the asshole who pokes fun at a grieving parent?
2. They might like it. Do you take kindly to people telling you that your music sucks? No? Well, why would someone appreciate you telling them that you think the tattoo they like sucks.
3. It might not be finished. Tattoos are expensive, time consuming endeavors. Sometimes you don't have the time or money to finish a tattoo right now. One of mine is rather ambiguous b/c it's not done. Is it a turtle or a penguin? Well, when I finish the shell, you'll know, but for now STFU.

That said, I would wholeheartedly critique the hell out of a proposed design or artist. If it's not done and paid for, it's fair game.

Like helping a friend pick out a $300 prom dress. You don't tell her it's ugly after she's bought it. You tell her it makes her look like a pregnant baboon when she puts it on in the fitting room. She may not like your opinion, but if she hasn't committed to the purchase, all bets are off.

Today I witnessed a rather unfortunate exchange. One girl had gotten a tattoo of a beloved dog on her back in memory of her pet's death. Too bad it looked like a demented bear with a bad case of cross-eyes. Her friend so lovingly pointed this out over coffee and cakes. Tattooed girl was offended and left in a huff.

If you truly think a tattoo is hideous, please, don't tell the other person. That's something you laugh about with your bf as you lie in the dark, contemplating the glow in the dark stars festooned on the ceiling or share as a vague but poignant warning to a friend considering getting inked without much forethought or planning.

Anyway, off the soapbox. Bottom line, if you tell me you think any of my tattoos suck, I'll simply smile, then deck you.

Why?

Why did I name my blog "We're All Just Cows"? A few reasons, in no particular order.

1. I love cows.
2. The blogger domain name was available.
3. I thought it would be a really rad name when I stumbled drunkenly to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
4. My other title, "Bovine Anal Invasion" is much too crude and I don't really want a future employer to learn that I have a blog with that title.

The Bovine Anal Invasion was a joke made by my bf when I came home from the Beef Center one day covered in crap. Now, I'm normally covered in crap when I get home from the Beef Center, but he was just there to witness it this time.

BF: You stink! WTF have you been doing all day?!

Me: Repro exams on bulls.

BF: Um, do I want to know how you do that?

Me: No, but I'm tired, stinky and grumpy so I'm going to tell you anyway just to gross you out.

BF: Okaaaaaaaaaaay. *looking wary*

Me: I stick my arm up their ass to feel their glands, then I slather the Electo-Jacualtor in lube, stick it up their ass and zap them to get a semen sample. We took turns putting it in, collecting, counting white blood cells in the semen and zapping them.

BF: So basically you just ass-raped a bunch of bulls today.

Me: Yeah, pretty much.

BF: You know what would be a cool name for a band? Bovine Anal Invasion!!!!!

This is a paraphrase of the conversation, it happened awhile ago so I don't remember exact details. So now when I think of random titles for things, BAI is the first one I think of.

More Blogs!

I created a new blog today, but I don't know if I want people to read it. Not that anyone reads this blog, so it hardly matters. Just don't want someone to stumble on it unexpectedly and think, "Who's this fat bitch?"

Going to write down what I eat, how I feel, and I much I think I weigh. Don't have a scale, so I only have jean size and what I remember from my last doctor's visit to go on.

Hopefully that will motivate me not only to eat less and eat better, but also to work out some more and generally make better choices.

I hate lying, and I hate reading about how much crap I've stuffed in my face, so maybe if I force myself to write, I'll have motivation.

Cherry

Just in case you've never seen her, this is my mare. I can't imagine that you'd not know who she is if you're reading this, but I like to post pictures of her anyway.

She's turning 19 on May 11th!

The First One

So everybody seems to have a blog nowadays, so why not me? I've always wanted to keep a journal, but for some reason, I never get around to either purchasing one or writing in it. 

Here goes. Here is a (relatively) unedited view on how I see the world, what bothers and and what keeps me going.

I'm no tech genius, so there might be a few formatting hiccups and general disarray in some posts. I figure if you care enough to read this, you'll forgive me. 

Hopefully I'll either make you laugh (with me or at me, take your pick) or piss you off. My life is pretty boring, but apparently what goes on in my head is not. 

Enjoy, or not, doesn't bother me. We'll see how my little experiment pans out. I love writing, and I like reading my own writing. It's like someone who likes hearing themselves talk, but you can click "x" if you don't care. Can life get better? I submit that it cannot!