HORSES. I’ll be the first to admit I find horses to be somewhat of a novice. I have a multitude of equestrannyian boots, two totally unnecessary horse lamps, and up until around sixth grade I thought Barnes & Noble was a horseback riding stable. Could you imagine? A commercial monopoly for dude ranches. Oh wait – Nickelodeon gak attacked that already (duh!):
Each week, I straped on my horse harness & escaped reality to hang out with the summer employees of Bar None Dude Ranch. Their high waisted Levi’s, matching denim vests, and their crafty, (mac &) cheezey plots surely gave Saved By The (Taco) Bell a run for their $$$.
*Side note: I love how Brad thought she was Haute Manure…
But it was this HAY DUDE that made me really want to saddle up:
First grade CAME early (if you catch my drift!) because every Saturday morning I got to watch rugged Ted in live action from beyond my bowl of Fruit Loops. He could mix his milk with my cocoa puffs any d(g)ay.
Surprisingly, I’ve only ever been horseback riding ONE time in my fashionasty life. But apparently, it’s considered HIGH FASHION to pose horses as acc(sex)ssories…
Butt, if you haven’t fully galloped out of ur fashionasty closet yet, fashionasties don’t need props. PROP, goes the weasel! The only prop that we need to pop is our own cherry top. Does that make sense? Not really, right?! That’s OK – half the time, I don’t even know what I’m writing. What I’m saying is that rather than fawning a horse nude-style, fashionasties should go the (s)extra 8 Mile & not only ride the horse, butt…
BECUM THE HORSE.
Be the Sea in ur own biscuit. The Lady in ur own Godiva!
© JAKE THOMPSON