Princess of Irony

I'll take a cup of black stallion please?

Issue Date: Wednesday, Mar. 12, 2003

I am feeling a bit of a loss today. The one thing that has been a daily constant in my life for over the past decade is not with me. The Cup is a horrid creature, but one that travels this daily path I trod as my constant companion. It is an old 34 oz. (NOT 32 mind you) Chevron give-away cup from the South Side Chevron in Nacogdoches, TX. I got that cup the freshman year of my college experience, and it has been with me daily ever since.

Today, however, I was too busy looking at Mister�s mouth and thinking how much I would rather stay at home curled up in his lap to realize that I was walking off and leaving The Cup behind.

The Cup used to be filled constantly with exotic treats such as Dr. Pepper and Lorena�s Pink Lemonade, but more often than not, it was just filled with ice water. It makes me thirsty to just think about it.

Texas is a hot place, and one must stay hydrated, otherwise have the misfortune of a mouth that tastes like you�ve been eating crackers and sand.

The Cup is insulated and can keep anything cold all day long*. There is, I am sorry to say, a crack down the outside of the cup. I put it on the roof of my sexy-chic-mobile one-day and pulled out of my parking space without retrieving it before it could hit the pavement with a sickening Crack! I was mortified.

*All day long unless you are in the East Texas sun� in the middle of July� on an old John Deere tractor bush hogging the pasture. Don�t ask.

The crackers and sand reference above makes me want to crunch up saltines in my mouth and then whistle. Readers Note: Do this outside unless you have a flock of parrots or non-rabid squirrels living in your home. They will clean it up for you.

Today is slightly muggy and a little warm. Here it comes ya�ll� Spring. I can feel it. I do like to drive when not going to work, but the stretch of road that I travel to get to the office gets so green in the spring and summer that it hurts my eyes. Either that or the beauty gets to me & I blame the weepiness on pollen or some such shit.

I travel thru horse country on a daily basis and I have developed this fantasy life where I am the lady of a manor on one of the horse farms that I drive past. There is this monster black stallion (part draft horse I think because of the fetlocks and size, he�s no Percheron tho) that is kept in a large grassy pasture on the north side of the road. In my fantasy he comes to me with just a whistle and I can ride him bareback with no bridle, just the gentle coaxing my voice and the pressure of my thighs make him respond.

My my, aren�t we a bit bodice ripper with our descriptions today?

Well, hell, if I�m gonna go there, might as well go all the way.

At midnight along the crest of the hill, in the blue light of the full moon, I would ride this stallion with my eyes closed and my face turned towards the wind. Arms outspread (a la� Kevin Costner �Dances With Wolves� style� (Shut up.)) welcoming the night and the cool relief from the day.

Hmmm.

Anyway, Mister and I were coming out this way to go to a concert for his birthday back in February and I pointed out the stallion to him. He was sweet enough to stop on our way home so I could get out, call the stallion over (he came to me! Woo hoo!), blow in his nostrils* and take a picture.

*No, I�m not some big dork, going around blowing in strange horses' nostrils for no reason. That is how they get to know you.

That was very cool.

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