A rodeo is an awesome place. If you've never been to one, you should. I order you to go. ;) Why?
Imagine excitement. Attempted eight second rides on bucking and snorting bulls. Lassos flying through the air. Wild mustangs. Oh, and cowboys.
Scratch what I said. A rodeo is a very awesome place. ;)
True, it was a small rodeo, but my camera was squealing with delight over the wonderful photographic opportunities presented last evening. Namely, a time to really put my camera's shutter speed to the test.
Old Glory riding past...
You could not pay me enough money to get on one of those things. Sitting atop two thousand pounds of snorting, slinging, twisting cowhide is not my idea of the best time. (I apologize to the bull if I overestimated his weight...I am not very good at judging such things).
Skeery. Very skeery. I couldn't ride a scooter with one hand, much less an angry bull.
You will notice that the photos aren't as clear as I would like, but let me rush to my camera's defense on this point. I misjudged the weather last night and wore a thin sweater. Bad idea. The wind decided that I looked like a prime candidate for some chilling breezes and resulted in me shivering and shaking like there was no tomorrow.
A steady horse during the calf roping. And a blur that I think might have been his rider. It's hard to tell. *pauses to glare at hands that wouldn't stop shaking* Traitors. I kept wishing that someone would sit down on the right side near me and provide a windbreak of sorts when, lo and behold, a cowboy did sit down.
And immediately scooted further down the bleachers to sit with his friends, completely ruining my windbreak.
Chivalry at its best, I tell you, chivalry at its best. ;)
Ah, there we go. Not an illusion after all.
Getting ready to open the gates and let a li'l doggie out.
Had I but thought of it, this would have been the ideal event to volunteer my friends from my Valentine's Day escapade. Payback, if you will, for being forced to scramble under an electric fence.
Alas for belated brilliance.
Cowboy hats galore...
A cowboy sporting a white Stetson.*squeals*
Ahem. Pardon me while I go watch an old western. ;)
Time for the wild mustangs. Should be highly "bite your nails, cringe, and cover your eyes at the same time"
And the mustang's fury is unleashed. I wouldn't want to be the rider.
Uh-oh, this wild mustang appears to have lost its rider. (It seems to have lost its eyes as well, but I think that's just the photo). This one's name was...Whiplash. Or was it Skid Row? Something like that. The badness implied in the name elicited an awed "Ooooh" from me anyway.
I don't mean to brag, but I could do that. Easy. With one hand, too.
Don't believe me?
Well, just go out to your nearest car dealership, buy a nice new Mustang with cushioned seats (oh, and make sure it's automatic--I can't drive a stick shift), deliver it to my house, and I'll show you how simple it can be. ;)