In my junior year of college I was still an animal science — pre-vet major so I was taking a required class called Farm Management because in Vermont you need to know how to farm, yo. In this class we all had to take a shift at the farm caring for the large animals. There was a cow rotation, a horse rotation, and a sheep rotation. We were not given an option of which animals we cared for, just a schedule planned out by our professor who also happened to be my advisor. My first rotation was the sheep. I showed up for my very first shift at 6:00am one September morning when the farm was in full swing inside, but not so much outside. I went down the hill to the sheep field and closed myself inside the fence to care for the 100 happy-go-lucky ewes … and the one ram.
The ram did not care for my arrival. He charged at me.
Luckily we had been taught in class to treat the ram like a bull and dodge him (and to show him absolutely no fear so he wouldn't charge us in the first place, but I can't help that he could smell my fear). I twirled to the ram's right side, spinning so that I would be facing the same direction as he was, took my dominant left hand (thank you, Mom, for making me left handed), and grabbed that ram's horn with all my strength. He shook his head as hard as he could to make me let go then started to try to kick at me with his front right foot. I nudged his side and didn't let go of the horn then kicked him back and yelled in my most aggressive voice, "NO!" I tried dragging him to the gate opening so that I could get out of the fenced area by myself but I needed both hands to undo the latch keeping the gate closed and as soon as I let go of the ram's horn he would try to charge me again. He got a few headbutts in before I gave up on this idea, grabbed his horn, and dropped the whole acting unscared thing, then started screaming "HEEEEEEEELP!" as louldly as I could.
There was no one around outside to hear me. Cows were cared for inside, far from the sheep field, and no one had arrived yet to care for the horses. I was completely alone with 100 ewes ready to be mounted and one very pissed off ram who didn't want any competition for his ladies.
Ten minutes in I saw the TA for our class smoking a cigarette at the top of the hill. She heard me screaming. She looked down the hill at me. She turned away and kept smoking her cigarette. She finished her cigarette. She sauntered down. She asked me what was wrong. I pointed at the ram. She didn't understand. I told her to open the gate and help me out of there. As soon as she opened the gate the ram charged at the gate so hard that he broke free from my hand. I ended up outside the gate and Miss "I Value a Good Morning Smoke More Than Helping Someone Who Might Be Dying" ended up inside the fenced area trying to dodge the ram.
[Insert nasty tirade that includes the words 'cuntiferous bitch got what she deserved' here.]
I dropped the class the next day. I hated rams from that day forward. Until Wednesday when I saw this commercial…
…and loudly giggled my tiny little head off. YAR. The ram is now good with me. Next time he should just ask for my gum, though.
Yesterday Earl was having a conversation in his comments about the funniest SNL skit ever after which a funny skit was never written. (I'm paraphrasing.) Anyway, the skit in question was when Lindsay Lohan was at dinner with Debbie Downer and family at a Disney resort restaurant when everyone lost their shit and couldn't stop laughing, making the skit 100 times funnier than it would have been otherwise. I give you that skit:
Do you remember that episode of Seinfeld, "The Parking Garage," where Kramer, George, Elaine, and Jerry all go to the mall together so Kramer can buy an air conditioner but no one remembers where they parked the car?
Yah, that actually happened to me yesterday except I had no friends with me and I was carrying around a 3-in-1 printer and a ream of paper instead. I refused to ask anyone for assistance of any sort, I refused to panic, and I refused to abandon my purchase, so I walked up and down and around in circles for 45 minutes, only to finally put common sense to the test and realize I didn't actually come up any floors when I entered the garage, so obviously my car was parked on the first floor.
I'm smart and stuff. Really. And yes, I do appreciate the irony. I feel slightly comforted that this happened to Jerry and the gang when they were in Jersey, out of their complete comfort zone.
And, yes, it is ok to laugh at me. I am, after all, here for your amusement.
Today's adventure: Camping out at the apartment waiting for the electric company to arrive and replace the meter that was removed from the apartment between the last tenant's occupancy and ours. The window of time given for them to arrive: 7:30am to 2:30pm. I'm bringing a coffee, a book, Chinese leftovers (tofu!), and a pillow.
The last thing the male flight attendant said to us before the plane finished taxiing to the gate in FRANCE (woot! i'm home!): "Please do us one favor by talking as loud as possible on your cell phones about things the rest of us don't care about." I chose not to call Dawg from the plane.
Something I have learned: I am incapable of having an intelligent verbal conversation after being basically mute for the last 8 days.
Something else I have learned: I am never leaving the kitties again. Never, ever, never. Until next weekend when Dawg and I (and half the blogosphere) go to TequilaCon. Poor kitties.
I guilt tripped the instructor: After asking for clarification about the laws of reporting child pornography found on computers I never asked another question in class. Yesterday during our "capture the flag" exercise the instructor came up to me and said, "you've been really quiet this week, how's everything going?" ::blink blink:: Sometimes I think I'm Truman from The Truman Show. This was one of those moments. It's not that I am egotistical, it just takes me by surprise when other people even bother to remember me.
Speaking of remembering, I was remembered at RagLan Road: I went into the gift shop at RR to look around for RR shot glasses (they don't have any! what kind of redonkulousness is that?!). I went to the counter to pay for the one item I did want to buy and the guy behind the counter said he remembered me from my last visit. Why am I so memorable if I am not Truman? What the hell? There are, like, one billion-ish people walking through that gift shop in a 6-month period of time and yet he remembers me?
There are always presents for me when I return: One cat food throw-up and one furball throw-up. I'm sure if I look a little harder I'll find a present from the third girl. So nice of them since I never bring them home anything! (I alllllllmost bought them cute Disney cat food dishes but I decided against it since they're plastic and the vet recommends not giving plastic to Allie who has kitty acne.)
Celebration will occur: TODAY IS ALLIE'S BIRTHDAY! Thank you to Catster for reminding me. I've remembered about 20 times in the last two months but the day kinda crept up on me. I need to go to the store and buy party supplies. Party kitty in the house! (yes, Dawg and I will take photos.)
So for those of you who don't know… my poor Poppy had her flight delayed last night when trying to get from Chicago to her meeting of the minds that she is attending this weekend. Due to their inexcusable crass lateness… and fucked up habit of playing "Mary Has A Little Lamb" over the public address system… she will undoubtedly oversleep this morning, probably not have time to blog, and possibly end up missing breakfast.
Have you ever had breakfast with Poppy? Well this is what its like for those of you who may not know what to expect…
Yeah. Don't be all jealous now… but I get to eat the cookies.
