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]