Sunday, March 8, 2009

Guest Blogger: The Girl

Last night, we had the privilege to surround ourselves with a sea of cowboys and people who wore clothes that weren't appropriate for their body shape and their age (clothes do have an age limit, but a lot of these people didn't catch that memo.) PBR's, Professional Bull Riders, came to our part of town, and being on the slippery slope to "redneck-ism", I lunged at the opportunity to attend this even every year it comes, dragging my grandma and momma with me.

What kind of things do you see when you go to a country themed activity? A sea of skin tight jeans (only 3 people WEREN'T in jeans, including my mom, a 4 year old in a plaid skirt, and a heavy lady in black stretch pants), flannel shirts, cowboy hats, belt buckles the size of Texas (make sure you take off your belt when going through security or else you'll set off the alarm like I did), chew rings (Copenhagen was a sponsor), wasted people who whoop and yell every time someone was riding the bulls (Jack Daniels was another sponsor), cowboy boots, wallets in everyone's back pockets, a Ford truck limousine, butt cracks, beer bellies, mullets, Ferra Fawcett hair, poster sized photographs of the bulls and riders, a dirt "Zamboni" a cowboy calender (mmm..), trailers of departing bulls, and even though MO is at least 2000 miles away from any border, the National Border Patrol was there.

While waiting in line, we learned some very knowledgeable tips. We learned that everyone and their dog tries to cut in front of my mom while in line. We learned that you should ALWAYS buy your tickets in advance. Mom even gave some dating tips.

However, the most valuable thing we learned is about the "Cleavage Clutch." This woman in front of us was wearing a skin tight pair of jeans (her jeans were so tight that you literally couldn't put a finger in her pockets), so she had to place her belongings somewhere else. No, not in a purse or even in her boyfriend's pockets. No, this lady had another idea; wear a skin tight low cut shirt and stick your CHAP STICK, CELL PHONE, MONEY, and your TICKET down your cleavage crack. Yup, it was something else. We saw her pull out her items and put them back in multiple times. This lady was pretty big up in the front, so we have no idea how she kept her belongings hid when you could literally see everything else she had because she was in a skin tight outfit. Now there's an idea that Prada or Gucci should be using.

The bull riding itself was good, minus the guy who got his head stepped on by the bull. The clown was hysterical and very good at entertaining. Did you know that at bull riding that the clown's most favorite fan gets a belt buckle? Maybe if we weren't sitting in the rafters I could have gotten that because, after all, I am in the market for one. The bulls all have names such as ZZ Top or Baby Blue, which sparked a conversation between my mom, me and my grandma; what would you name your bull? Mom's bull would be named Allan. Grandma Carol's was Albert, and mine was Monica.

Overall, the night was very enjoyable and was worth the $22 tickets and $10 parking.