Top Signs You Are NOT a Bullrider and/or Cowboy

So My Cowboy (MC) and I recently went to a local benefit bullriding to watch Golden Child (GC) get on a bull for the first time. Well ok, he’s been on some practice bulls, but this was the 1^st bull at an event. Granted, a small-time benefit bullriding doesn’t have near the quality of bulls as a PBR event, but ya gotta start somewhere. One thing I noted about this event (as well as other small time functions I’ve been to)–there’s nothing like a small-time rodeo to bring out all the wannabe bullriders and cowboys.

So instead of writing a year-end wrap-up blog (I’ll try to get to this before February!), I decided to write up my Top 5 Signs You’re NOT a Badass Bullrider and Top 5 Signs You’re NOT a real cowboy. We’ll start with the bullriders…

Top 5 Signs you’re really NOT the badass bullrider that you proclaim to be:

5.  You wear your chaps the whole time you’re at an event…way after you’ve bucked off and there’s no chance of you getting to the short go.

Appropriate use of chaps:

      

Look wannabe’s– it’s not hard….If you have no chance of getting into the short-go, ditch your chaps & help out your friends who still have a shot at short-round money:

Crazy Lil Annie says: I know an additional use of chaps, but I don’t know if one would call it “appropriate”.

P.S. awwwwwwwwwwww, EL JAY!

4. Your jeans are clean and starched to perfection at the event

Do you see starch lines on the jeans in the above pictures?  (yes, I’m giving you another chance to stare at the above pictures—you’re welcome). And here’s another example:

Nope, no extra starch there…

3.  You rode one time in a small-time bullriding event , so you call yourself a pro.  Seriously, I’m not super impressed that you won the Hicksville County Fair bullriding back in 2008.

CLA says: I think I’ve been to Hicksville. Got a cousin or two that lives there.

2.  You’re more interested in the after-party and the buckle bunnies than the riding itself.  This needs no explanation. We’ve all seen these guys at the after-parties skulking around hoping to find a buckle bunny that’s so drunk she believes he rode that night.

CLA: why come you gotta knock the after party?! And please, I’ve probably been that drunk.

1. You spend 98% of your bullriding career talking on twitter and FB about how much of a badass you are and brag about your oh-so-awful injuries from the night before but try to play it off like it’s nothing (though you keep going on and on about it).

THIS is a real bullrider after breaking both legs, splintering his spine, and running low on painkiller. Note that he’s not complaining but showing off the cookies a fan brought to him in the hospital:

Here’s what a guy looks like who’s exhausted & tired of his crutches. Please note he’s not complaining…just trying to catch a quick nap.

CLA says: f*cking crutches.

You wannabe’s talking smack about your injuries need to take some lessons in humility and quit whining. You’re not even a fraction as tough as Golden Child.

And here’s yet another real cowboy making the best of things. He’s not complaining even though his hip is super jacked up in this picture:

CLA says: I…nevermind. Moving on…

Top 5 Signs You Are NOT a Real Cowboy:

5.  Your jeans are clean at the end of any given day.

This is the same as #4 above.  See below for a picture of what a real cowboy looks like as the day ends:

4. You don’t like Chris Ledoux and/or can’t quote Lonesome Dove.

CLA says: “A man who wouldn’t cheat for a poke don’t want one bad enough!”

3. You wear spurs everywhere you go…even to the bar…especially to the bar (so you can pick up buckle bunnies)

(Appropriate use of spurs)

2. You don’t have good manner manners—saying yes ma’am and no sir, opening doors, etc.  I absolutely guarantee you that if you’ve ever met a real cowboy, they addressed you as ma’am/sir.

And lastly, my biggest pet peeve that wannabe’s never get right:

1.     You don’t understand when to wear a felt hat and when a straw hat is appropriate.

Note that they are all wearing straw hats here (except for Harve, but he’s special, what can we say?). That’s because this event was at the end of May in Texas.

Here are pictures of cowboys at winter events:

Note the felt hats. Get it?

Some cowboys, as well as wannabe’s, don’t get this & go without hats:

PLEASE put your helmet/hat back on Mike!

CLA says: make it stop.

And others skip the traditions and wear hard hats (while riding):

And lastly, hatbands are acceptable any time of year….but only if you’re cool enough:

Actually I don’t really know or care about hatbands…I just love this picture of JB Mauney and thought ya’ll would enjoy it too!

Hope you enjoyed this…part of my inspiration for this blog came from watching PBR the past 2 nights on YouTube. Some of the fans at the event are dressed in their interpretation of what a cowboy is–leaving me to shake my head.  A lot of them look utterly ridiculous. Sooooo I think this blog is my Public Service Announcement to the poorly dressed wannabe cowboys at Madison Square Garden this weekend.

Adventures of Platinum Annie – the Ranch Hand….Ole!

(Popgun from the Ruthless Pistol Ranch.)

I was so proud that My Cowboy and I got the 2 young bulls loaded pretty easily this morning and got them to the vet and back without too much drama. I was finally starting to think I may be getting the hang of this ranch hand stuff. And THEN My Cowboy (MC) had to go and say “hey, let’s drive those bulls up and pen them before we go eat.” I started having flashbacks to a few months ago when we attempted to do the same thing and I failed MISERABLY at it.

So I mentally steeled myself and off we went to drive the bulls up to the pen. The bulls were in a 2 acre enclosure that has a big stock pond in it (just some background info here). Long story short…after several failed attempts–the bulls kept basically running a circle around the pond, we split up. MC walked and I drove the mule and we tried to cut them off. That didn’t work. I don’t drive as aggressively as MC would like me too apparently. So then he came and grabbed the wheel & started driving over bumps really fast. I didn’t saw anything, just gave him a look. He said “hey, if you don’t like how I drive, you can just get out.”

Soooo…..there I am, in the middle of the pasture in my cheap Walmart flats that are covered in bullshit. I’m wearing my bright red sweater and wishing for some midol & a heating pad. Sorry, I know that’s way TMI, but  those that work with male animals will understand why I mentioned this. Soooo anywho…..I saw Death again (see my facebook post about Crazy Jack). Only this time Death was several bulls. Instead of hightailing it anywhere else but where I was, I froze. Mentally I was thinking up my backup plan–to jump in the stock tank and start swimming. Mind you, I don’t know how to swim. But that’s the only plan B I could come up with on short notice.

Popgun is the lead bull running at me and I’m sitting here thinking “I can’t believe I’m going to die in cheap Walmart flats…I hope Crazy Annie drives down here and puts me in some 5″ heels before they do the autopsy.”  I feebly put up my hands out in front of me and said something brilliant like “Shoo….bad bull, bad bullies….”  And you know what? They went around me! Yay!!!  I’m a GREAT matador right?  Ole!!! OK, so MC’s driving behind the bulls turning them off course so they didn’t run me down *might* have had something to do with my escape from Death. But let me have my moment please.  MC also wasn’t too thrilled about all this because he wanted me to turn the bulls around and head them towards the pen. Yeah right.

Anyway, he then tells me to hop in the mule, so I did. I didn’t argue about his driving this time. We then had a *great* discussion about our strategy. Right. MC really just spouted off stuff I didn’t understand or couldn’t hear over the pounding of my own heart and the mule’s motor. Somehow, and I don’t even remember how, I ended up on foot again.  And again the bulls headed in their circle around the stock pond towards me.

This time I asked myself, “WWSD?–What Would Shorty Do?” (Shorty Gorham is a professional bullfighter for any of you who may not be familiar with PBR. He’s my fave!)  I started waving my hands back and forth and talking smack to Popgun. I was also moving side to side with that little sideways 2 step that bullfighters and idiots like me like to do. MC said I almost looked like I knew what I was doing….for a couple of seconds. High praise.

Popgun and crew still got by me that time, but I was getting the hang of it. I was also getting ticked and cranky from the pms. So the next time they came around, I had my hands on my hips (mad-mama style) and yelled at the bulls. They stood there and looked at me like I was an alien from another planet. I told them they needed to behave or I was going to have them on the grill tonight for dinner with a glass of wine. I boldly told them I wasn’t taking anymore of their crap.

Lo and behold, they actually shuffled off to the pen!!!!!!!!!! Do I totally rock or what???? Ok, ok, so *maybe* the bulls were just friggin’ exhausted from so many trips around the stock pond and *maybe* it had something to do with MC behind them shuffling them along.  But let’s let me have another moment. Ole!

MC ran up and slammed the pen’s gate after the last one shuffled over there and I thought “I wonder if hydrocodone AND alcohol would kill me?” Oh wait? Did I write that out loud? I mean, I thought “Gosh, MC and I are working hard and learning how to work as a team finally.” Right. Honestly, I actually thought “How soon can I get out of this place? I want my heating pad! But not til after lunch. MC owes me lunch for all this work by golly!”

MC still had to sort the bulls in the pens but I just sat on another trailer and supervised. And by supervised, I mean I just watched with my phone ready to dial 911 if the bulls ran him over. I was so done.

In the end, I finally got my “free lunch” and headed home. I am now relaxing with a glass of wine, a heating pad and some cookie dough. Don’t judge.

Rehab Ranch goes to San Antonio

Has it really been a month since we posted? Shame on us, CrazylilAnnie!!! We’ve been “researching” and “gathering data” to provide ya’ll with more stories. Yeah, that’s my story and I’m gonna stick with it!

Soooooo…..a little over a week ago I saw a tweet from #PBR that said yada-yada retweet to win tickets to San Antonio yada-yada-yada. So I randomly thought “Eh, what the heck. I’ll never win….they know who I am!” But I re-tweeted it anyway and went along my merry way. Well lo and behold, I find out the next day that I’ve won tickets to see the PBR (last) Saturday night in San Antonio. Mind you, I had no prior thoughts of venturing to San Antonio. My Cowboy was off in Wyoming, and I had planned to organize my bedroom closet and do other responsible (read: boring) grown-up stuff all weekend. Weeellllll….that all changed in the blink of an eye. By the time I really got to talk to CrazylilAnnie, she’d pretty much already booked us a room at the host hotel. #greatminds This is one of the many reasons I love her so much.  So I head to SA Friday afternoon and hang with non-PBR friends for the evening and rest up for the ensuing shenanigans.

On Saturday (while waiting for CLA) I go to an autograph signing where Golden Child is…  This is kind of a funny situation. I walk up going “Can I have your autograph???”  Since I’ve been dating his dad for quite awhile now, it’s just funny to think of GC as someone people want autographs from. Now don’t get me wrong, he works hard and can’t wait to get back on next year and prove he’s still got it…but it’s weird to me nonetheless. I guess when you’ve folded 10 loads of laundry for someone, you kinda get over that popularity/notoriety sorta thing.  But I chat with him and talk about catching up with him and his girlfriend–the First Lady–later.  Now you may wonder why I call her the First Lady–it’s totally my way of tipping my hat to her out of respect. She stuck by GC when he was injured and did EVERYTHING for him. And I mean EVERYTHING. She is the ultimate in girlfriends. She’s totally got the grace and beauty of Jackie O.—but with a can of whup-ass up her sleeve at all times. You gotta love/respect that in a girl! Anyway, Golden Child and I finish chatting and I go back to my friends’ house to wait for CLA to arrive.

After driving here in the rain the WHOLE way on the Highway from Hell (aka 35), I had a Shiner Bock waiting for her. After resting at my friends’ casa a few minutes, we headed downtown.  We barely have time to check in and get ready before it was time to head to the ATT Center. We decided we might drink while at the event so we were going to be responsible and take a cab. CLA–I think this is a sign we should never ever try to be responsible when attending a PBR event.   I’ll fill ya’ll in on that in a minute.

We get our awesome free tickets (thanks #PBR) and wander around for just a few minutes saying hi to familiar faces. After you go to a few of these events, you start picking out the regulars who attend. Which is cool. PBR fans are all pretty darn friendly so it’s fun to chat.  We eventually make our way to our seats and get ready for the evening’s competition. In all honesty, I don’t really remember much of the bullriding. Was anyone else even there besides JB Mauney and Asteroid?? I honestly don’t remember. I just remember JB picking Asteroid and LJ picking Bushwacker in the draft. I remember stating that I’ve been saying for 2 seasons now that LJ will be the first person to ride B-wack (since he’s matured…he HAS been ridden before, but it was when he was younger). CLA said “I wouldn’t know what to do if both of them rode tonight. I can’t even handle the thought…” (paraphrasing here). So it finally comes down to THE moment. About 3 seconds into the ride, I KNEW JB had him. I just had a gut feeling. CLA and I were both on our feet screaming like crazy women (ok, maybe we ARE crazy women). When we heard the buzzer, we turned to each other and both squealed “Oh my God, I can’t believe it! He really did it!!!!”  It was magical. Unfortunately LJ didn’t fare as well, but hey, I stand by my prediction that if B-wack is ridden this year it will be by LJ. If he’s ridden next year, it will be by Golden Child. Mark my words.

So we exit the ATT Center in a state of euphoria and began the long trek to the the line for taxis. Wouldn’t you know it, just as we get close to the horribly long line (about a 100 deep), it starts to rain. Not just a nice little shower, but like a dam bursting forth. The taxi line was near this convention center building on the property and there was a bit of an overhang so we clung to the side of the building. For over an hour. An hour and 15 minutes of pure misery–diluted only by a large dose of fear as we watched lightning get closer and saw the wind blow the rain sideways.  But alas, we eventually got our drowned-rat little bodies into a taxi and headed to the hotel. Of course, our hair and make-up was ruined, but NOT our spirits. Ya’ll know us too well for that. So what do we do?

We go up to our room, spend quality time with the hair dryer, re-apply makeup and put on dry clothes. Then we marched back down to the hotel bar where everyone (and I mean EVERYONE that had any connection to PBR–fan, employee, etc.) was at and we proceeded to party like the rock stars we are. This is where we connected with other Rehab Ranchers and felt like we were back at the Ranch just hanging out. We spent most of our time with Lucky Charms and the wonderful/amazing/beautiful Sunny, his girlfriend (whom I adore if you can’t tell).  GC and First Lady saw us and came to check on us and make sure we hadn’t drowned in the rain. So we hung with them for awhile too.

But poor CLA had Random Guy hitting on her. At first it was cool, cuz he was kind of cute. But you know how after you talk to someone for a bit, you start thinking “No chance in HELLLL buckaroo!!!” So she spent a lot of her evening trying to get rid of him. While she was busy trying to untangle herself Random Guy, I made the horrible mistake of doing a Jaeger Bomb with LC and other various assorted people. BAD mistake. I had been drinking beer all night and was teetering over the edge of tipsy. This pushed me well over into the drunken range. But I was happy…other than exclaiming that I wished My Cowboy was here about every 5 minutes (I probably annoyed people w/that. Oops!)

Then the bartenders did something really mean. They closed the bar at 1 a.m. WHAT??? What’s that all about? Bars in Texas close at 2 a.m., everyone knows that. But never fear, some other PBR peeps had it covered. They had ordered some beer and invited us to party on the patio(there was a lull in the rainstorm) with them. Poor CLA just *thought* she’d get rid of Random Guy then. But noooooo….he followed her out on the patio and invited himself to the party. NOT cool. But we all hang out and still have a pretty good time. I think I saw NV at one point start to take off his shirt. But I could have just been daydreaming that—I’m really only used to seeing him (shirtless) utilizing the pool at the Ranch, so my alcohol-sogged brain very well could have imagined it all….

So after awhile (time became suspended for Drunk Me at this point) we move the party to La-La Land. CLA *finally* got rid of Random Guy at this point as he was not invited to La-La Land. We’re all just hanging out and chatting and having a good time here. I swear we weren’t being loud but apparently the walls of La-La Land were thin and hotel security came by to tell us to be quiet. So we continued chatting. This is when I started feeling ill. Damn the Jaegermeister!!! At this point, I had to go pay homage to the porcelain god at La La Land. After 10 minutes or so of paying my respects, I came out just in time to see more hotel security.  All serious, I look at CLA and she says “We have to go…” Being Drunk Me, I blankly ask “Where are we going?” Now if I had been even half way sober, I would have gone to my room. That’s what the smart girls did.

But Nikki replies “We’re going to Upstairs.” To which Drunk Me happily replies “Oh Ok!” This just turned out to be a smaller version of La-La Land. But by then our numbers had dwindled and the rain had begun again, so it was a Cozy Place. We moved our little party to the balcony of Cozy Place and proceeded to chat and drink more beer. At this point the rain was pounding and my head was spinning so I had to pull up a chair and just absorb all that was happening. GC had disappeared but then reappeared at some point. I couldn’t help but think how much he reminded me of his dad and then of course started that annoying “I wish My Cowboy was here…” (My apologies to all who had to hear that whiny crap). While I was watching the rain fall, I got dizzy and decided I needed to go worship the porcelain god in the Cozy Place. After another 10 minutes of paying my respects, I go back out on the balcony and try to remember what it felt like to be sober. This was about the time CLA looked at me and said “You can go home now…” Thank you baby Jesus!!!! I was outta there as quick as Drunk Me would allow. I managed to stumble into our room and after paying quick respects to our own porcelain god, I collapsed in my bed and let it spin me into unconsciousness. CLA was….somewhere at this time. She could’ve been right beside me screaming “Fire!” and I wouldn’t have heard.

So we eventually revive ourselves in time to check out of the Marriott Sunday morning around 11. My friend had texted me about a place called El Mirador on St. Mary’s and Caesar Chavez. It’s a nice little local/non-touristy Mexican place.  CLA ordered breakfast but I HAD to have queso and chips. And enchiladas. You can’t be in San Antonio and NOT eat these things at least once. It was AMAZING!!! And I even kept *most* of it down. Well, at least until we got back to my friends’ house.  After crashing at their place for a couple hours, CLA got back on the Highway from Hell while I went back to sleep. I eventually woke up around 4 p.m.-ish and hopped on the Highway from Hell for awhile myself.

We both made it home safe and sound. All in all, it was a fun trip! I’m not a big drinker, so before ya’ll start thinking I’m an alcoholic, let me tell you I only had ONE shot. I probably did have 6-8 beera, but it was over the course of 5-6 hours and on a full stomach. So yep, I was drunk, but I’m not a hard core drunkard I promise!

So here are the things I learned this past weekend:

• JB Mauney + Asteroid = 8 seconds of Perfection in Motion
• ATT Center sucks for letting all of us sit in a dangerous thunderstorm with very little cover.
• I really shouldn’t text/tweet when wigging out abut the weather. I *may* have been just a wee bit melodramatic.
• Jagermeister + Red Bull + Drunken Me = a toilet worshipping experience
• As much fun as it was, no more PBR without My Cowboy. All there is for me to do without him is drink…which leads to the above toilet worshipping. uggghh Never again!

50 Shades of Blue…

Tonight I was going to write a post about my weekend at Rehab Ranchette & Laundromat (& Diner & Entertainment Complex) with Crazy Lil Annie. However, I started my periodical mental debate over which is better–Wrangler or Cinch? Does Panhandle Slim play a role at all? And do we really care as long as we get to see starched blue denim stretched across some fine cowboy flesh?

Finally, I have created this post in order to help CLA…she’s not feeling well. Now while some friends might take their sick loved ones chicken soup, I’m doing my own version of Chicken Soup for the Soul…via this ode to 50 shades of denim–that’s way better for the soul, right?

First, let’s start with King George. He’s always been a Wranglers man:

<<Dreamy Sigh>>> We LOVE us some King George here at Rehab Ranch. And Wranglers have always looked amazing on him!

Crazy Little Annie: If it wasn’t for Texas…

Next up is a nice Wrangler shot I found on Wrangler’s FB page. Yummy! Did I say that out loud?

‘

I love creased Wrangers…and work boots.

Next up is one of my favorite PBR riders, the 2008 World Champion Guilherme Marchi.

*I* personally think he’s a World Champion Wrangler-wearer….but that’s just me.

Speaking of PBR riders who wear Wranglers, here’s a picture of Chris Shrivers and Mike White. Two PBR classics in classic blues:

So just when you’re starting to think “Wow! Who needs other jean choices?”  Meet Cinch jeans:

CLA: where is the like button for this picture?

‘Nuff said. This picture features CBR riders that Cinch sponsors.  CBR never looked so good!  (CLA: we need to get to a CBR event) But if you’re not convinced, meet Brendan Clark, PBR Bullrider from Australia who wears his sponsor Cinch with lots of pride:

And here’s me taking that picture of Brendan’s backside. Soooo busted!

Just in case you need any more convincing, here’s one more shot of Brendan’s sponsored product. Can this man streeetttccchhh or what?

And now for a round of “Guess what type of jeans these are?”

     

      

    

Okay, quit your drooling… (this is more of a stern note to self than an admonishment of ya’ll)

Anyway….what was I talking about? Oh yeah, are Wranglers or Cinch better? In the end, I guess I always come back to a more important question than Wrangler vs. Cinch. I always end up thinking “Does is really matter?”  I mean, can’t we just appreciate the diversity within the bluejean world? I think we can… At the end of the day, all that matters is that the 50 Shades of Blue fit the cowboys wearing them right. Don’t you agree?   >The End<

Okay, okay….I can’t resist. Here’s a parting shot. hehehe

Butt wait, Crazy Little Annie has something to add (shocking): this was nice to wakeup to. Most importantly, I no longer have to wait for the perfect op to use my curerent absolutely, positively favorite obsession picture:

 Oh freaking Canada. Is it Labor Day Weekend yet?

Happy National Tequila Day!

Happy National Tequila Day, readers! Crazy Little Annie loves her some tequila. Joe Nichols even wrote a song about it. You wanna hear it, here it go:

Though Kenny best sums up how I feel about it these days:

“When it comes to you
Oh, the damage I could do
It’s always your favorite sins
That do you in…”

*sigh* anyway…as much as I love a good tequila shot, it’s either gonna make my clothes fall of or I get fired up and cry. One never knows which way  it will go. But this sums it up well:

I think I am still missing bits and pieces from a night the RR gang spent out on the town a few weeks ago. The last time I did tequila, no less. Whoops.

Why we can’t be friends…

Crazy Little Annie : I have to add the one below to the one above…because they go together like peas and carrots. And neither of them remind me of anyone in particular. Nope. Not at all.

 

5 Signs…

6 Signs you may be addicted to Cowboy Erotica:

1. Your Amazon suggested recommendations include nothing but Cowboy Erotica.

2. You feel like you’re cheating on your cowboys when your read Cat’s Red, Hot & Blue Series instead of her Studs & Spurs.

3. Your husbands (or significant others or even your friends) say “…all you need is a Cat Johnson/Lorelei James book and you’ll be set.” (not that I’m picking on Dee & Shannon here…hehehe)

4. The person you have nicknamed 50 Shades wears boots and rides bulls (when not shirtless & trimming trees).

5. While researching Texas land legal documents from the 1850′s at work, you jot down potential names for Cat & Lorelei to use for their cowboys in the future and make a mental note to tweet the names to them later.

6. You name your newest cupcake invention Cowboy Cocksucker. (Shannon!)

You Know You’re Addicted to Cowboys When…

• Certain sounds turn you on–For example, spurs clinking as he walks across a room or the sound a Dodge Cummins engine makes when firing up,
• While you may not like dipping as a general rule, you’re glad that the Skoal ring gives you a semi-legit reason to stare at his butt
• Chaps…enough said.
• You feel torn between your loyalty to Wrangler butts and Cinch butts.
• <<<<insert your addiction here

Ok ya’ll, let’s play along. What turns you on about cowboy erotica or cowboys in general. Inquiring minds wanna know. So share away!