November 13, 2007

A Life Saved by Panties

So I had this party I had to go to Saturday night, a Country Western theme, as I wrote of last. I had to go stag as my husband was teaching this weekend. No, I did not wear a hat! I don’t own a cowboy hat, although I will say the thought did cross my mind as I am rather fond of them. But it did seem ridiculous to splurge on something I’d wear but one time. Jeans, the shirt that Bones chose, and black boots were my attire.

At this function, they’d rented a bull. One of those fake riding bulls that were real big in the movies in the early 80s. I gather they still have them around somewhere if the chairwomen of this function were able to find one to rent.

Jumping to the end of this story for a second, as I was leaving the party, around 10:30, people were still partying, many were gathered around the bull and I heard a group of them chanting as I left, “Bou! Bou! Bou! Bou!” trying to get me to ride.

Now folks, I’ve done some stupid stuff. I’m game to do some things others would not... I will make a fool of myself and laugh. But… let me state up front, I am extraordinarily in touch with my mortality. Breaking my very sober neck on a bull is not high on my list of ‘things I want to do before I die’. As a matter of fact… it’s not on there.

At all.

I graciously declined their offer and left.

Back to the middle of the party, dinner had been served, much drinking had been taking place, I’d paid the bills (I’m the school Treasurer), and I made my way to the bull as I heard that there were crazy people actually riding the bull.

Crazy people who were pretty lit.

I came upon one of the Dads whose wife is a friend of mine. He’s a big guy, big in every way, and makes me appear to be hobbit sized. He could palm a frickin’ basketball. He looks like a big Viking to me… with his beard and twinkly blue eyes. His wife is an absolute doll and is quickly becoming one of my favorite people.

Viking husband was holding wonderful wife’s purse. I asked him what he was doing and he told me his wonderful wife was in line to ride the bull.

I said, “Really? Holy crap. I’m sticking around for this…”

He said, “Are you going to ride?”

Me: Hell no. It hurts when you fall and when you’re 42, it hurts for DAYS.

So we waited and waited, evidently she was signing a release, when she came back to us and said, ‘I changed my mind.’

I told her I was looking forward to it as I’d not seen anyone ride yet… and she told me of women riding that I’d missed, where some almost fell out of their tops.

That’s another thing not high on my list of ‘things to do before I die’… fall out of my top in front of anyone, let alone parents of children my kids go to school with. And the principal.

Not that I have enough to fall out of a top… but still.

Finally the wonderful wife said to me, “You know, I really shouldn’t anyway. I did have back surgery a couple years ago…”

Now keep in mind, everyone was very HAPPY as this point of the party. Well, except for me. I was just ‘happy’ since I haven’t had a serious drink in 17 years.

I looked at her husband and looked at her and said, “Look, I don’t mean for this to sound offensive, but… I can’t believe HE was going to LET you ride considering you’d had frickin’ back surgery.”

Yeah, I know, nobody tells me to do anything. But I’m telling you now, my husband would have put the screws to me if I’d had back surgery and was talking about riding the bull. The ensuing argument would absolutely NOT have been worth the ride… no matter how much I really really wanted to break my neck before I died.

A teacher had walked up and the wonderful wife said to me, ‘Well, actually, I was standing there and I realized, with my luck, my shirt would ride up and my pants would come down and my underwear would show’.

Me: *blink*

Teacher: Oh, t-back, huh?

Wife: Oh no. Granny panties. I didn’t want 3 inches of my granny panties showing to every parent in this school…

Me: *blink*

Teacher, laughing, : Oh absolutely.

Me, laughing: Let me get this straight, you aren’t riding the bull, not because you had back surgery a couple years ago, but because you don’t want 3 inches of your granny panties to show?

You know, modesty is a funny thing. I could not quit laughing. Modesty trumped common sense.

She is a frickin’ riot. I laughed the rest of the way home…

Posted by Boudicca at November 13, 2007 10:43 PM | TrackBack

Bou: You might want to ride a "bull" just once - just to say you did it. A fake bull isn't so bad. It's the real ones that you should stay away from! And before anyone approaches you with this, and while you still have some dignity left - never agree to playing donkey basketball. Those animals just aren't team players and they deliberately AIM to embarrass you!

You know what's worse than a stage mom? A rodeo dad. I know 'cause I had one! DON'T let your babies grow up to be cowboys!

Posted by: Peggy U at November 14, 2007 12:14 AM

Drunk peeps signing releases?

Music to a plaintiff's lawyers ears.

Posted by: Jim - PRS at November 14, 2007 04:26 AM

Now that would have been worth it. Bou riding a bull. You could have borrowed my cowboy hat. ;-)

Posted by: vw bug at November 14, 2007 06:12 AM

Peggy- I think it is pretty safe to say, I will never ride a mechanical bull or play donkey basketball. I mean, it could be stretch, but I don't think so!!!

Jim- Hunh. I didn't even think about that...

VW- Holy crap! I didn't even think about your having a hat. I'd have borrowed it!!

Posted by: Bou at November 14, 2007 07:19 AM

That reminds me of something I saw on PostSecret the other day. Someone sent in a postcard stating something to the effect of "I clean my apartment because I'm afraid of what peeps like Gil Grissom'll find in case I'm murdered."

I have been dying to ride a mechanical bull for as long as I could remember, and don't care what kind of underwear I'd be wearing [funny, I just bought a bunch of new ones yesterday], but we don't seem to have any of those in New York.

Posted by: Erica at November 14, 2007 07:33 AM

What? Y'all don't have mechanical bulls at all of your parties there? Out here, that's required. Hey - I just thought of a new movie title. "Boudicca: Urban Cowgirl" I wonder if John Travolta is available.

Posted by: Dash at November 14, 2007 09:08 AM

You might find this video amusing.

In this case, the bull ride operator had to resort to Dirty Tactics in order to get his ride back!

Posted by: Elisson at November 14, 2007 10:54 AM

Um... I wouldn't ride the stupid thing because...even if I didn't fall off, I'd be sore for a week. And yes, if my husband ever ever thought of doing something so ridiculous (he had back surgery about 10 years ago)... I'd make an unbelievable scene. Holy crap! I'm all about adults doing what they want - but I'm the one who would have to take care of him when he couldn't walk anymore!!! Sheesh!

I have to say though I'm laughing about the granny panties. *grin*

Posted by: Teresa at November 14, 2007 01:40 PM

Bou - When I was a kid, my dad created a mechanical bull by suspending an oil barrel between two posts by ropes and pulleys. Us kids would take turns riding and operating the ropes. Much fun trying to toss it around and throw the other kids off. In a rare display of thoughtfulness, Dad had dumped sawdust underneath the "bull" to soften the landings.

This is just one of the many ways he tried to get us involved in rodeo. The thing he never quite "got" about me and my horse was that a) Peanut (may he rest in peace) was the most obstinate, single-minded, and quite possibly retarded horse ever born and b) a 60-lb. kid is no match for an 1,100-lb. horse if the horse decides to do his own thing! Personally, I think Dad should have been pleased that I got that animal to run barrels at all. He was much happier cutting cows, and not interested in barrel racing. We never won any ribbons, but I was always happy when we made it through an event without incident! (Ever been in a parade when your horse decides to stop and take a whiz?)

Posted by: Peggy U at November 14, 2007 02:24 PM

"It hurts when you fall and when you’re 42, it hurts for DAYS."

Amen, sister!
Plus, apparently by age 42, your brain works hard enough to worry more about your health than your freakin' panties.


Posted by: Roses at November 17, 2007 09:41 PM