I now have three jobs. I even missed survivor tonite for one of them. yup, that's how serious I am about this situation. I am working at a banquet center, doing freelance, and bartending. ahhhnd on top of it all, I am riding again. So much better than sitting in front of the computer ALL DAY in a cave or, on the couch. so. much. better.
For now.
When people ask "do you go to school?" my reply is "no. I'm a burned out graphic designer."

I worked both jobs today. The banquet Center in the morning, and the bar in the evening. When I got to the bar, the bartender on duty was one of the people I haden't met yet. As I walked towards the back of the bar, she asked "What can I get you" in a vocally accosting style. I introduced myself to her, and shook her hand. "JEEEEZUUUUUUUUUS!" I gasp. Because, beside sporting some massive camel toe (ooWh) she's also in possession of the world's WORST f'n handshake. The "next time I'll just pat you on the back" handshake.

I'm totally in on the whole "good-handshake" thing, and what it means. I believe that a woman should have a good handshake, however if I shake a woman's hand and it feels more like getting my hand trampled on by a FA-18 fighter jet full of elephants while landing, then I'll gasp- "JEEEEEEZUUUUUUUUUS!"

I thought she was a magician and that she turned her fingers in for some vise grips on the fly. It actually hurt.

After the introductions, she proceeded to sit at the bar and have more than a few Goldschlagger shots.
"haha, honey, don't shake! dont shake!, I already have enough gold in my system, B E L I E V E ME." she'd say as I poured them.
alright.
what you said.

synthetic feels good!

I got a saddle. I bought it at a used tack auction, it's a Weaver, 17.5 reg, synthetic. It's got alot of cushin, and it was only EIGHTY BUCKS!
sweet.

this is not my car well, it IS, but it's not my actual car, but a photoshopped version of what happend..where is the camera when you need it?!

uh.huh. I did this to my car sunday night. I DROVE RIGHT OVER THE STOPPIE THING! who does that???

it's been a while since I've owned a FORD, so it took me a minute to remember I still DO have AAA!
I had to have a towtruck come and lift me off of it!

lame

I was out working with the new excercising prospect "Cowboy" yesterday. After lunging him, the daughter (Natalie) got on him in a western saddle.
hmmm.
He looked like he was limping on his front inside leg...
yup. he was giving to it.

"alright, Nat. he's lame. we should probably call it quits."

She jumped off, and I suggested to her not to turn him out the next day.
I'm not sure if her horse lame before, (she's so cute) because of the way she acted when I told her...(but then again, she HAS to know.)
Then her mom came into the barn and I told her that Cowboy was lame, right away she asked: "should I call the vet?"

I told her a little about what it is, and how important it was that he doesn't get turned out in the mud because he can really hurt himself, to check him at a walk today to see if it was any better, or if it was worse.

Did he go lame because he didn't want to be ridden? he was looking fine on the lunge...beside being stiff
or did he go lame because of me lunging him? The areana area of their barn is only a little bigger than a 20m circle, could it be the bending?

I wish I had a good trainer to ask for advice. Beside getting food for thought about this kind of stuff, I want to ask questions about hunter/jumper stuff, it's different than the dressage, and I don't want to have Natalie's trainer who she talks lessons from once a week, telling them that something I said is bull. I was going to sit in on her lesson, but I have to work. ugh.
I think I'm going to try and find a place to take a hunter lesson once a week. Maybe that would be the easiest thing to do.
however, FINDING a good hunter coach around HERE is another story...

"34B AL-RIGHT?!"

A friend of mine recently purchased a bar, on the west side of Youngstown where I have revived the career formerly known as bartender. I've also been working at a banquet center (long hours, pretty easy work) where I am also getting bartending shifts. I really need to write about that, because that is worth writing about~ I think all the employees are DRUNK by the end of the night
but anyway.
I was working the afternoon bar shift today and serving glasses of wine to a 50 something year old man that is a regular to the bar. He's a little bit perverted, but he's nice enough...and getting even nicer with every glass of wine I give him.
By the third glass:
Guy at bar: "you know, like carnivals and festivals and such?"
me: "yeah, carnivals. I've been to a carnival or two."
GAB: " well, I used to guess things, like weight... and women's bust sizes."

I am standing there behind the bar, and it only takes a millisecond to hone in on where this is going...

(this is coming after an exhausting two week of new-job-people-finding-out-how-old-I-ACTUALLY-am, and directly off of a conversation where as, I tell him how old I am which in turn, somehow entitles him to get more PERSONAL.)

me: "no. dude. you don't guess women's bra sizes at carnivals. not even in vegas, man." (I HATE this crap.)
DAB: "uh, lemme see, I bet I can guess yours! Um...lemme see....."
he instantly starts naming numbers outloud...

me: (O.M.G. this motherfucker is staring at my boobs in my shirt, using some LAME ASS excuse to stare at my boobs in my shirt. he's LOOKING hard at my BOOBS! Here, could ya move yur drink so that I can mount this bar and giddyup into my coveted bendover move so that you can evaluate my ASS?!. jerk. your game is wack, jack.)
he's still calling out numbers. "36C!...36D!..."
me: " alright, man, you're all wrong."
he was relentless.
me: "34B AL-RIGHT?!"

I'm so embarrassed. I feel like I've just given my first lap dance. I never felt this way about this stuff when I was younger, but of course those were cute college boys guessing back then

So, after I successfully changed the subject, he started reeling it in again. He was telling me about how the young boys aren't respectful, and how the older gentlemen will take women out to dinner on dates, and more malarke.
he finally got the wine balls to ask me if I ever dated an older man.
(ouggh. no way. oooh.)
me: "I like em young." (WELL??? What else was I going to say??)
DAB: "Why not, you never know..."
me: "ohh, I got a really emotional father complex." (not really)

THAT"S what else I could have said, because IT worked.

If there's one thing I like being a woman, it's catching a guy glancing at my boobs.
A non-chalant regular ordinary guy thing.
If there's one thing I hate about being a woman, it's having some drunk fucker size me up -blatently. For a dollar tip.