You have a horse stuck where?
Why do people never take me seriously when I say I want a pony for my birthday? To be fair, people don’t often take me seriously, period. For my last birthday I asked for a yacht and I got flowers and a cheese grater.
I have learnt to swallow my tears.
The last time I told someone I wanted a pony , he brought me a plastic horse from a toy shop that was made in china, I can tell because the reins looked like they were made from actual seal or panda fur and was probably painted with asbestos! I may die... However, I love him, his name is Chester and he has pride of place on my coffee table whenever Greggles visits. (Otherwise he gets locked up in a cupboard far away from any guests – he too has learnt to swallow his little asbestos tears)!
But HIM I cannot ride because, well he’s hard, small, plastic and will injure my vagina should I attempt to do that Jump-up-on-the-saddle thing you always see in the movies, and I am NOT keen on visiting the emergency room and asking to have a horse’s head removed from my bits!
But alas, how awesome would it be to actually have a pony, or a mini horse. You could put a wee saddle on it, buy a sexy cowgirl outfit and ride / squat on it and try keep up with it while it tries to buck and throw you off because you’ve had too many Kit Kats in your life and it’s trying to save it’s own spine, while swinging your lasso around your head screaming “Lets Riddddddddddde!!!”
Man oh man, the fun I would have.
Until your horse grows up into a full horse because that’s what I assume mini horses do… eventually (God I hope so because squatting on a horse and running like you have a watermelon between your bum cheeks to make it LOOK like you’re riding on the thing is only going to give me wobbly legs.
If my horse grew big, that would be cool too. I could patrol our backyard, and I would technically be taller than the surrounding walls. I could peer into the next door neighbour’s yard, tip my cowboy hat and ask my sunbathing neighbor whether he has a permit for that Speedo.
Neighbour: “I do not, nor will I get a permit to wear a Speedo in my own yard!! And how are you so TALL?!”
Me: Well in that case sir! *leans over and hands him his citation scribbled on the back of the dstv guide*
Neighbour: *frowns* “You want me to pay you, in carrots.”
Me: “Sir Worthington-Comes-with-The-Thunder likes carrots and someone has to be punished for you waving your pork and beans around like that!”
…. Or is it apples they like? Fuck knows… I better do my research.
UPDATE: This is Greggles the giver of all things plastic and horsey. Ladies, this could work in your favour, nothing wrong with getting a bit of "plastic". He'd like to know since he's being featured in my blog will he get lots of girls to want to touch his meat and veg now?
Lets test the theory...
