Friday, April 6, 2012

I'm officially stupid. Now with illustrations!

Now, I'm no rocket scientist, but I have always been of at least average intelligence.
I was cocky smart enough to say things like, "People should have to pass a test before they are allowed to reproduce."

Thank goodness no one is requiring that I take a test now, since having kids, because I am certain that I would earn an F and a well-deserved mocking.
At least I am not alone in this den of stupidity. I know that Brock would go down with me. Most likely I would be on some sort of coma inducing allergy medication and he would have the good sense to cheat off of my paper.

*explosion noises*

I could (and do) tell you of all the ways that I have mournfully discovered my apparent loss of brain power, but today I am going to focus on my equine handling abilities and knowledge.

There are two basic ways of handling horses:
1.) Safe
2.) Stupid

If you combine my horse experience with Brock's, we have accumulated a grand total of 72 years of equine related knowledge. Neither of us would ever claim to be an expert, but we are (were) both basically proficient around our four legged friends. Yet somehow, within the last few weeks, both my husband and I went from 'knowledgable' to 'well past ignorant to the point of drooling and perhaps singing songs about Unicorns under our breath'.

Maybe it is because we haven't had our personal horses on the property in more than two years.
Maybe it is because we are no longer human, but in fact some sort of robot-zombie-parent, programmed to feed and bathe the children, clean the kitchen and watch American Idol while dreaming of brains.
Maybe it is because we need a vacation. Without the Things. With margaritas and all the sleep we desire.
Maybe it is because we are now primarily handling ponies which are fairly non-threatening considering that they come up to my belt buckle, carry toddlers on their backs and have had their balls chopped off.

Whatever the reason may be, I have two three 'cases in point' to argue in favor of our new found ignoramus.

I'm also drinking right now, because it seemed like the right thing to do in light of this information.

First Offense/ Exhibit A:
The ponies were both using any hard surface they could find to scratch themselves. I brightly deduced that it was because it has been 70+ degrees all March and they were shedding their winter coats. I also know that bathing animals helps in the shedding process, so I decided to be of assistance to both ponies and kindly bath them. (Spoiler alert: the ponies like baths almost as much as Smelly Cat, who bit Brock during his last bath....)It was last weekend.... both boys were napping... Brock was home... I knew what I wanted to do.

*Bow Chicka NOW NOW*

I wanted to complete a motherflipping project without having to watch two preschoolers at the same time.

Like a Temptress, I was all, "Hey Brock. Can you stand and hold the ponies while I bath them?"
He pretended to ignore me, so I naturally yelled his name repeatedly until he responded.

This is what transpired:
Brock was reading the Hunger Games and did not want to be bothered, which is all my fault. You see, I have concocted this fantasy in which Brock and I read novels at the same time and then we have something to talk about other than who pooped their pants at the grocery store. The problem is that Brock is not much of a reader. I, on the other hand, devour books. Sometimes I read multiple novels in one week. Through an act of sheer determination (okay, I threatened to go to the movie without him) Brock is almost finished with the first novel of The Hunger Games trilogy (meanwhile I finished all of them and have also completed another book). By the time he gets to book three, he will try to hold a discussion about Katniss and it will be 2014. I will have read 167 other books, thus having forgotten all about The Hunger Games, and I will look at him blankly and ask him WHY ON EARTH he is telling me about catnip. Someone will have to remind me that I predicted this.

ANYWAY, Brock decided to comply with my delicate request and attempted to assist me by continuing to read with his book in one hand and holding the pony with one hand; with about 3 feet of rope between himself and the pony. The pony who did not want anything to do with that water hose that was directed at his hairy body and was in full on pony flight mode. He was running back and forth in a semi circle around Brock, frightened of the water and rearing up like a miniature Lipizzaner stallion. I therefore was unable to bath said grimy, itchy pony.

Unfortunately, this is not an exaggeration, but instead an exact image
of my current life.

I looked at Brock, mustered up all the snark that I could and said, "Can you stop acting like a stupid 12 year old girl who is afraid of horses and Hold The Damned Pony LIKE A MAN?"
He just glared at me. Then {I believe that} he knew that he was acting like a moron and held the pony correctly while I bathed both of those little bastards until they shone and glistened like a freshly polished toilet in the bathroom that no one uses.
I may have accidentally squirted Brock with the hose in the pony washing process. Whoopsies.

Second Offense/ Exhibit B:

What you need to know before I go into this is that I AM NOT A TEACHER. FOR MANY REASONS. I tried to give a horribly annoying Junior High girl lessons on my horse and few years back and it was all I could do not to push her sack of potatoes body off the saddle and yell "GO HOME! MY HORSE AND I BOTH THINK THAT YOU ARE STUPID!" (ENGAGE YOUR CORE, PEOPLE!) Instead, I seethed inwardly and silently willed my horse to buck her off of his back so that she would run away in fear, never to return again. See? Do not ask me to teach your children. Did I mention that I was (of course) doing this for free? Double bonus points for me!

So, I had talked with the neighbors and arranged to use their round pen. Then Wednesday arrived and I randomly decided that it was time for the lesson. I put Thing 2 down for his nap and set up the monitor on the fence post so that I could hear his demands. Then I looked down at my outfit and shrugged. So what if I was wearing an ankle length flowy boho skirt and my slightly high heeled B.O.C. boots? I had taken all the effort to get dressed once, and the fact that I was not in yoga pants, or better yet, my bathrobe, equals SUCCESS to me. And the ponies are parade broke. Never mind that I looked like the type of lady who would wear a flappy dress and possibly a cape around a herd of flight animals in a windstorm, thus producing a chain reaction of snorts, pull backs and bolts that all went unnoticed by her' because she would be too busy talking with wild abandon (and with a crazed look in her eyes) about how much she loved rescuing Arabian horses while pointing at a Fjord pony and holding a yapping, angry, shaking chihuahua.

I am about 100 pounds, a bad perm and one tiny violent dog away from this....
What the hell has happened to me?

Someone just shoot me now.

So, anyway, I looked like a green horn, but worse than that, I was acting like one. I didn't have a plan of action, but I did have a long and tangled lunge line that I feebly attempted attaching to a very confused Blizzard, who apparently is unaccustomed to lunge lines. I also had an obstinate Thing 1, who is famous for insisting "I CAN DO IT MYSELF!" when he is on the back of the pony.

Did I mention that I hate teaching? There are so so so many reasons, but it is primarily because: I am lazy, I suck at it and I would rather be reading and/or eating while I watch the pool boy clean the drain. We don't have a pool. Nothing is going like I planned .....

Thankfully, my neighbor was witness to my one woman shit show and promptly stepped in and took over the instruction. He apologized and I was all, "Oh please. Just please do it and thank you." Thing 1 succeeded in both reining the pony and pissing off the pony while Thing 2 woke up and was screaming in the monitor..... and we all called it a day.

"Looking good, Buckaroo!" yelled the crazy lady in the giant skirt
from behind her flash photography.....

Which leads us to EXHIBIT C, when both ponies ran away last night.

All I am going to say is that it was exclusively Brock's fault because I warned him multiple times about letting the ponies graze in the yard. EVERYONE KNOWS that if you let an equine loose in your yard to graze that they must be wearing a halter and lead rope. If they are not, then they think that they are brumbies (if you do not know what a bumby is, please watch The Man From Snowy River) and they RUN AWAY, never to be captured again (until they want grain). But after about 40 minutes and with the help of some friendly neighbors, we caught the wild ponies and returned them to their prison pen.

Are we having fun yet?
And here we go again. Good bye brain cells. Good bye pride. It was nice while it lasted.

Maybe we need to buy a house in the suburbs and stick with inanimate bouncy horses.

People in the suburbs like guns, right?

Gotta go, someone pooped.

Peace, Love, Shitty Ponies and Stupid Animal Owners,


  1. This is probably the most entertaining pony story I have heard that did NOT involve porn. I love you guys so hard!

    1. Well, you know that I love you too. I'm glad you enjoyed it, even without the porn. I worked really hard on those pictures just for all of you, especially since I haven't been present online lately. :)

  2. Wait. Does that mean you aren't going to teach my kids how to ride those ponies when we come out to visit? Then again, by the time I make that happen, they will be full grown horses and our kids will be teenagers. Eh, then we'll just send them out to get into trouble while we sit and drink. I like that plan.

    Great cartoons. I love the one of Brock reading while holding the loose lead. Priceless.

    1. Can't everyone just go fishing? I know nothing about fishing and would therefore be relieved from any teaching duties. I like that plan.

      Thanks- it seriously is exactly what happened. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME, MISTY? I was supposed to have a butler.....

  3. Hahaha ponies are evil. The smaller they are, the closer they are to the devil... Which of course explains why my 17hh warmblood is deathly scared petrified out of his mind of anything under about 14hh.
    Just paint the ponies like ghosts and witches and prostitutes (true story!) for Halloween and they'll lose all dignity and behave for at least 2-3 days...

    1. When they ran away the other night we received help from a girl on a horse; a horse which was spooking and snorting at the ponies.
      Other than the running away, these two are actually super duper sweet. We had a really grumpy pony before, but his bad attitude just made me laugh and I loved him for it. A bad attitude on a 1,000 lb horse is a lot less charming.... lol!

  4. I hate ponies - Satan's spawn, every one of them. Every once in a while I fancy myself a horse trainer - and on my good days, I'm pretty good. But just when I think I'm the horse whisperer, those fucking beasts make me look like an ass. Every. Single. Time. Keeps one humble, you know?

    And that part about the hose and your husband? My husbands a horse trainer too and I can't tell you the number of times I've "accidentally" hit him with an icy blast. Serves him right for trying to tell me what to do. Plus, not gonna lie, wet jeans do wonderful things for the man's posterior :).

    1. Ha! I actually think mules are worse because, like ponies, they are super smart, stubborn and crafty, but with bigger ears and teeth. :)

      Wet Wranglers.... hmmmmmm. Nice.