I was raised in the Garden State of New Jersey where horses, horse folk
and horse racing are second only to KY. I have many childhood memories
of competing and attending horse shows including the esteemed Devon
show. I well remember my mother and I driving behind our horse trailer
during the dark, foggy, wee hours of the morning during show days. Our
sky blue 69 Caddy convertable would weave back and forth on the road
while we did our lipstick, hair, and eye liner in the rear view mirror.
Off came our jeans and muddied boots and on went our black, hot wool
suits and spit polished riding boots. Don't forget the jewelry and
accessories. And they worry about cell phones there in Jersey? Pffft.
Whatever. Anyway, it's an interesting culture. What was is so curious,
is that the ladies wearing suits and skirts, adorned with gold jewery,
and carefully applied make up during shows and other outings are
unrecognizable at home. Most live on farms. Although they have hard
bodied young men to do all of the barn work and stalls, these women
wear shorts, bikini tops (even if you are 70), and Keds around the
barns and home as they brush and hose down horses, push wheel barrels
about the property, weed gardens, and toss a pieces of sandwhiches
to the barn cat and pet dog. It was funny now that I think about it
because I saw no transformation. No oxymoron. We sociaized in public
dressed to the hill using civil langauge and the best of manners. Same
lady we'd be having tea with, would've just been seen hours before knee
deep in mud, no make up (ah, except lipstick and mascara), hair frizzed
out ala some Cyndi Lauper hair-do, and cusing up a storm about all of
the endless sh*t she had to clean up each day. Why were we talking
horses? Oh yes, tatoos, tatoos. Yah, about that? I never saw one in
person until I left South Jersey and moved to Alabama and saw the rest
of the world. I had to keep my eyes from bugging out and staring if I
saw a woman with one. Oh my. If I came home with a tiny heart on my
hip, no doubt there would be an intervention from my mother and said
ladies. I shudder to think about it. Even my ferret didn't have a tatoo
by God!!! hehe. That's because there was no Marshalls yet (I don't
think).

On the subject of peni. Yes, I almost had a ferret penis right in my
very own hands! I was at a Christmas party that the Ferret Business of
Georgia held. They had a live auction broadcast on the internet. Lots
of fabuous items. The best of ferret bedding by Florence Love. A bottle
of genunine white lightening. And so much more. I didn't pay much
attention. Even though hottie Brad was the auctioneer. But when I heard
them call out a ferret penis (baculum)?? I love my mind. I looked to
Carpet Shark Scott with pleading eyes. He had no reaction. I hung on
the collar of his shirt, look up at him as sexy as possible, "oh
please, oh please". He barely blinked. I resorted to raising my voice
louder and louder, "Oh Scott pleaaaaaaaaase, I want a penis!!! OH
PLEASE, BUY ME THE PENIS". But no, my man, didn't step up for me. Did
not provide me with a ferret penis. And I've been wondering every
since, can I use this as a grounds for divorce do you think?

[Posted in FML 6640]