a travel Tale by Kaya
My ass is sore. Normally that statement would be
followed by a wild, drunken story of how I ended up
spending the night in prison with my new "friends".
However, my ass is sore from a horse.
Normally *that*
statement would be followed by a wild, drunken story
of how I ended up spending the night in the stable
with my new "friends".
Anyways...I went horseback riding for the first time. This activity should be 1 and 1/2
hours long. For about this amount of time, riding is fantastic. Any
time longer is sheer pain. (My ride was 8 hours... 8
minus 1.5, let's see... minus, carry the one, divide
by the reciprocal, square root the remainder,
cosine... Whatever. As you can see, we rode too long)
After I got over the animal-rights side of dominating
this massive animal (and began to appreciate the S&M
side of it... have you watched equestrian events...
dominatrix riders, wearing leather boots, whipping the
ass of this muscular beast?) I got into my 'Marlboro
Man' mentality. I named my horse “Beige Lightening.”
And later, “Old General”, as he slowed down. (Don't
miss the obvious allusion to the car in The Dukes of
Hazard). Then I began to gallop, (actually, the horse
does most of the galloping) and yeee-freakin-hah! It
was great! Racing through the trees, one arm holding
on for dear life, the other waving my visor in the
air... (so maybe I was more like a 'Virginia Slims'
man). Anyhow, you barely notice how hard your ass is
being slammed into the saddle. (Note the 'country
lingo'... “saddle”.) As the day wore on and our butts
became more chaffed, the novelty of galloping wore
off. We rode home in the darkness, under the
beautiful stars.
Now for the dark side of riding horses throughn the woods: Checking
your hairy buddy for ticks. Keep in mind what parts
of his body he can’t check for himself. Oooh man. I
have got to find a different sport to get into the
Olympics.... is Lambada an event yet?
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