If only the two of you were men, the fact that you keep fighting over me would be less sweet and more exciting… 
Hello, ladies! Just checking in to see how all the cool folk are doing.
Reynard Ridge- Looks like Findeight has the name for it…udder crust. Eeeew!
Chism…Get a tattoo of a Labrador Retriever. Then when you are 90, you just tell people it’s a Sharpei.
Good morning everyone! I am very proud of my night crew friends, all of your stories of overcoming hardship are just touching.
Hey guys, what’s up with the fact that I don’t have a nick name? You seem to be handing then out to other people, I guess I’m just not cool anymore?
And seriously even table, who would ever want to mess with pregnant mare urine? Is there something wrong that you aren’t sharing with us?
So I know there hasn’t been much planning for the rodeo but it is still on in NZ since I have floated my way into the South Pacific and my ice hunk is starting to melt. Time to swim the pregnant mare, foal, foalt, and fillygelding.
By the way, we should probably be extra careful with Oreo as I just found a message in a bottle that had blood spatter and said something about the pony from hell will kill you all signed O. A bit coincidental so I thought I’d pass the message on.
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-title”>quote:</div><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-content”>Originally posted by Cindeye:
Help. My horse keeps throwing me off and I don’t know what to do. My trainer says I should just get a $2000 kevlar helmet and get over it. Anyone else have this problem? </div></BLOCKQUOTE>
The helmet is a good start, but as Meandercreek said <BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-title”>quote:</div><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-content”> you should put him in one of those double bridles with a mule bit bridoon and cathedral curb with 18" shanks </div></BLOCKQUOTE>I think instead u need to put him in a double bridle with a double twisted wire gag along with a mikmar, with side reins, draw reins, a really short martingale and a figure eight nose band that pinches off his breathing. That oughtta teach him to get u off!!!@ 
Don’t forget the seditaves.
And remember NOT to jump beacuz you’ll pop a splint.
SillyHorse, While I appreciate your view that Jesse Helms and Judge Judy would be more than capable of riding my JAMAICAN Horse…but PLEASE UNDERSTAND: Only I can ride him as he IS VERRRY special! I am SURE that both Jesse Helms and Judge Judy would understand…don’t you think???
At any rate, I am thinking that IF they DO mind…then maybe I could just be in the parade that everyone is talking about…
Eggbutt, would you like to have my Beautiful Jamaican Horse with LOADS of THROONESS and EXPULSION (hopped up on chili and beans supplements) with sparklers in his mane be in your parade?
p.s. Doesn’t anyone want to critique my Horse’s THROONESS and EXPULSION??? Anyone???
Eggbutt: I sent you a PT too! You’ll be getting a double dose of Harry Potter in the next 10 minutes!
well, thats easy. we can have it in the middle of a corn field…and they can fly from nc to utah or north dakota and parachute in for us…
does anyone have a place in mind where there are a lot of people with mullets? cause tripods are much better when the competition is slim.
what is this BOSS you speak of? 
do we get to have bloody olivers?
what happened to oreo?
and who is supposed to be bringing me rescues for the bbq!?! my ice cream truck is almost fully converted into the bbq truck, and i’ll need some test subjects before prom!
Yup, while I cleaned my mare’s udder crust this weekend it was hard to stop laughing. That is until she threatened to kick me so I threatened to make her into the baby machine she has become on here. She backed down.
I really have a hanckerin’ for some BBQ. Can you believe I haven’t had any since the start of this thread?
Helen- At least if you ever take a clinic with GM and he asks how many beats are in each gait, you will have it easy.
Walk-3
Canter-3
Gallop-3
And you can be assured that your horse will ALWAYS be reaching under herself with her hind leg…or she will fall down.
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-title”>quote:</div><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-content”>On the dressage test thing, I duct tape a small gilt music stand to the crownpiece of my horse’s bridle. I think it just gives that touch of classy bling as well as being so practical. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>
What a great idea and right in style too! I’ll steal (oops I mean BORROW) one from the music department.
I think we should get my Dad to judge. He knows nothing about dressage but I might have a chance that way! 
OK, done doing searches in the database and looking at this while it’s searching. Now time to get to work before I end up loosing my job.
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-title”>quote:</div><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-content”>Originally posted by DeLapp512:
even table! ouch! a whole lot older than what? i’m 21. i’m a senior in college. duh. you can read my profile on here and figure that much out! duh duh duhd
how old are you then EVEN TABLE???
if your gonna call me a weird name, at least call me de lapp dancer. no detable, just cause you are my trainer…it took me a minute to realize you were talking to me…
RHF, i could be your partner. i do not have one, cause i missed this conversation, that silly work thing… </div></BLOCKQUOTE>
okay well i already slept withthe judge and the steward so i think we’ll be set~
dang it i just read your stupid BNT post and NOW im partnerless again well
Mother Chicken Muncher- did you sleep with the jump crew because as your BNT i highly suggest it(they may bring down a few rails for you) wink wink
IT’s true, I’ve now started to find that every thread I read, I think about all the stacks of great advice we’ve already dispensed for here. I should start charging, given I’m a BNT and all. But the other threads just don’t have that chewy smegma flavour. Sigh.
DeLapp, I have six Gypsy Vanners here for you to choose from. One is a very rare Vanner Tripod X and I’ve put him aside for you - I just know you’ll love him. He’s called Snorkel.
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-title”>quote:</div><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-content”>Originally posted by tbtula:
Any suggestions on what to use the “excess” blood for that is all over the back of my SUV, can we make some kind of drink with that? 
</div></BLOCKQUOTE>
Bloody Olivers?
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-title”>quote:</div><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-content”>Originally posted by vineyridge:
If Oreo is slaughtered a few days before he’s cooked and given a ride to the stove in an double decker aluminum cattle trailer, he will be well “ripened”, which in meat parlance is the equivalent of “well hung” fresh meat. It’s the aging process that goes on in a couple of days at the South’s 110 degree temperatures in that will tenderize Oreo for the banquet.
Now stallions don’t need to be ripened that way; they are stove ready, as it were. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>
Hmmpft. That’s what you think. Am well hung for sure, but nobody’s dinner beetches. Think again. 
I just talked to the girl scouts and they said they will sell the flax seed cookies, but the samoa’s have been made with smegma for years, so we can’t patent that one, sorry girls
Business first:
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-title”>quote:</div><div class=“ip-ubbcode-quote-content”>Okay, so even table (hehe) is my BNT. But I think she (at least I think it’s a she…) is holding me back. I’ve been training with her for 17 years…is it normal to still be working on learning how to post the trot or should I be cantering now? I just bought a Fresian foal and am planning on taking it to the next Olympics to compete in show jumping. I’m worried that eventable holding me back will prevent this from happenening. So what should I do? Fire her? I am going to go drown my sorrows with smegma coolers…thanks for your help… </div></BLOCKQUOTE>
Yes, we do have a plan. We are working at the pace that you can progress at. Unfortunately that is the trot. If you rode a canter, you might fall off and then I’d be out of pocket for legal fees etc.
To those who missed me at the prom, I was in the Lear jet parked out front, with two tripods and Johnny Depp. Yes, the one that was rocking. Or was it lurching?
WW&W is back and now 150 pages. We must try harder.
So, how do you use battery acid for improving form over fences?
Could it enlarge the trot for Dressage too?
:The Story of Kat the Horse:
Born when she was but a mere infant to a nest already neck high in greedy, grubbing, and needy children, Kat discovered at a very early age that she was small, much smaller than any of her siblings. It took great effort to stretch her bantam legs to reach the ground, and frequently her father yelled at her to ‘stand up’ only to find she WAS standing, and on tiptoe! She was head and neck below all she saw. Living under the feast table of life, she found herself frequently alone in a world populated by knees, careless knuckles and fleshy thighs, looking up at the receeding backsides of her parents and sisters, arms outstretched begging to be lifted into their world, yet never noticed. Invisible to all but the family pets, she lived a life apart from those she would call family.
Her lack of height was compensated by her ability to charm the birds out of the trees. Cats and dogs loved her–the proof of their fawning regard was layered like furry lasagna on her dust-bunny covered sleepers. Wild animals watched over her as she slept in the shoebox that served as her crib. Even the house spiders brought her lovingly trussed ‘gifts’ and ran upon her fingers in playful attempts to amuse her. By her 7th month of life she was nearly on her own, participating in family life only when her mother remembered her miniscule she-child. She would then look about the farm, in hen coop and hayloft (where mamma cats hid their young. And once having found her, she dragged her away from the accommodating goose nest, or pulled her off the bitch coonhound, nursing her pups and Kat, and put Kat through the stress of a bath and diaper change.
Only to forget her hours later in the stress of big family living.
Kat spent her teething years beneath the resident elderly gelding, gnawing with painfull gums on his hoofs and legs, until her teeth each emerged. Old Gelding didn’t mind, and never moved. He treated her as he would any young colt, pushing her away from danger, nipping her smartly when she mistakenly grabbed at things best left ungrabbed. Yet he also nibbled her cheek and fat belly to hear her laugh. He was the shade that kept the hot sun from burning her tender naked baby skin. His gentle tongue laved the dirt, tears, and snot off her face when she stubbed her toe trying to walk, or fell on her fat butt, biting her lip with both new teeth in the process.
The day she was able to reach his mane with her grubbly little fists was the day she no longer lived life ‘beneath’. Old Gelding marked that day by shoving the gate with his nose and taking her far outside the narrow back lot that had been their world for so long. He walked with care, ever aware of Kat’s yet unformed balance. Twice he had to pull her out of bushes and backyard tangles by her damp, dirty panties. Undaunted, she grasped his mane and hauled herself atop his back. Scratched and bruised she might be, but she knew with all her heart that it was there, high on Old Gelding that she would be, or make a stinky mess of her FOLs trying!
From that day Kat became a Horse. The elderly gelding served her well, lending his slightly arthritic legs to serve where her short, pudgy ones could not. On his back she knew limitless vision. His walk lent her wings to fly, his gimpy trot served to burp her thoroughly before bedtime. Astride her steadfast companion Kat was visible, nay, blatantly visible to her family, and her care became more frequent and she ‘weaned’ from the dog’s teats. She thrived on salad, and vegetables of every type, eschewing hamburgers and fried chicken, beef stew and leg of lamb. Sitting beneath the family table, she grazed on head of lettuce or baby carrots, snap beans and wild apples, whilst her family stuffed great wads of flesh, shoulder and loin muscle, with fat dripping past their lips. They feasted on the violently aborted, and cooked young of the faithful hens, slicking up the runnier parts with the sliced and fried flesh of a pig, who not 6 months earlier was cossetted and hugged, then dressed in doll clothes and pushed about in an old baby pram by two of Kat’s sisters.
In Kindergarten Kat was the shortest child ever enrolled, and great effort was necessary to prove her birthdate. During recess the boys picked on her relentlessly, pulling her wispy white braids and teasing her for her comical lack of height. However, once Old Gelding also accompanied her to morning session, she ruled the playground. Safe above braid-abusing hands and wicked sharp elbows, she found recess bearable and her Dick and Jane Reader palatable. She learned to share her apple and cookie with Old Gelding, and balanced her flattened milk carton on HIS head for the trip to the trashcan. The teacher did not mind as Old Gelding frequently dropped poop nuggets on her potted geraniums, and they had never looked better! With her status elevated, Kat no longer knew the wicked pinches and punches served only to the lowliest child. She was truly above all, and her self esteem, tho’ never inflated, was at least normal for her age.
Shall I continue?
RR- stop giving us ideas!
findeight - i believe that in order to make your business profitable, you need to add a shot of boss to your summer malts in order to give em a kick.
but i will help. just send me your 95 page pamphlet on your product…i’ll glue myself to the mailbox
