The "Counter-Canter"

A horse is a horse-person's best friend. We all know this universal truth (sorry not sorry dear significant others). Being the best friends they are, and being that best friends also have tax liabilities, horses should count as their own taxable entities, which makes them people. And how do people best get to know each other? FOOD!

Thusly, I was overjoyed to learn today about the practice of inviting our horses into the kitchen to partake in the culinary experience of friendship.

Since horses haven't grown opposable hooves since my last blog post, they don't have much to offer in the kitchen. However, the time-honored "counter-canter" is one of the best ways they have been able to serve humanity.

Horses tend to be on the larger size, at least when compared to their human counterparts, so there isn't usually much floor space in the kitchen for them to work. That's why some genius in 1642 suggested that horses be relegated to the kitchen counter. Once atop the counter, there is plenty of space for a horse to canter. And let me tell you... horses and their counter-canter have been the primary workforce behind the production of pizza dough and squashed wine grapes for the last 376 years.

This alone explains why they are our best friends.

Hot Blooded Horses - surprising update

I was doing some more searching, and it turns out that there was a band who recorded a song about Hot Blooded horses, which very much validates all of my findings about them.

Hot Blooded Horses

Well, I can say that I'm offended, to say the least.

I previously wrote an entire post about warm blooded verses cold blooded horses, and nobody even bothered to tell me that there is a such thing as hot blooded horses.  I never!

As soon as I learned about their existence, I went to bing.com to learn all about what all the non-hype was about.  I just HAD to check it and see:

Normal non-freak horses' body temperature runs up to 101° Fahrenheit, but hot blooded horses' temperature runs at a feverish hundred-and-three.

I'm just gonna lay this on the line: Hot-blooded horses move SO FINE.  Honey, that's something you oughta know.  Like you don't have to read my mind to know that I have it in mind.

You might not know that they are also loving creatures.  A hot blooded horse would totally meet up for a secret rendezvous - probably involving a trail ride, or some carrots.

And for you dressage aficionados, hot blooded horses do more than dance.  Again, check it and see!

Often they look more mature than they are, so if you're looking to buy one, make sure to call the seller's bluff on its age - even though you can't make a profit by selling a horse as older than it really is.  But at the same time they sell really fast so make sure your timing is right.

Here are some other quick facts:
They maintain their heat through the night, every night.
With minimal lateral flexion, their physique will look so tight.
They will definitely drive you wild.
Temperature remains "hot blooded" whether you're old or a child.
In order to be a happy owner of a hot blood, you must be a little bit high.
Surprisingly, they can be a little bit shy.
If hot blooded horses are for you, they will make you sing; it's a sweet sweet thing.

This dude loves hot blooded horses.

That's about it.

I saw a dead horse today

It was very sad.

Prancing Pony Practice (bonus!)

Official Blogger Meetup #7 - Prancing with Ponies

Did you miss my blogposts about Blogger Meetup #5 and #6?  Same here. But today we are blessed with my account of #7. (Stay tuned to miss Meetups #8-11!)

The best part was getting to meet yet another long-time Blogger! I had heard many tales, and borne witness to many hilarious groups texts, yet had not met Kathy in the flesh. I promptly arrived at her house after missing dinner and missing the first hour of FEITV due to my newfound dedication to the best equestrian sport: prancing.

Often incorrectly associated with vaulting, equestrian prancing is the most eXtreme sport that you've probably never heard of.

Here we see an awkward screenshot of Dr. Strange not doing a very good job at prancing. He doesn't look very much like a fancy pony, and he has lost his horse.

I, on the other hand, am VERY good at prancing with ponies:

So basically, I was two hours late to our meetup because I was busily prancing.

When I finally showed face, I was GREATLY OFFENDED that they had ALL been watching pony prancing WITHOUT ME (my therapist is encouraging me to talk openly about my feelings). But it was all good after Kathy brought out some delicious mint cookie ice cream. Thanks Kathy!

Kathy was also with us, visiting from "America's #1 City, 66.6 years running!" according to Satan's Digest, an elite sub-terranian publication that's been going strong for 2 mellinia. That city happens to be San Diego. It was great to see you Kathy!

Kathy, Kathy, and Kathy made up the rest of the group that evening. The centrifuge of experiences shared between so many great minds is really a privilege to be around. For example, Kathy brought up the clever practice of drugging lesson horses instead of properly training them to not buck off small children. Brilliant! A trainer she had once worked for does this every day and the results are perfection – not a single child ever thrown to the ground. Just imagine the confidence that instills in young riders! If I had ridden a doped up horse as a child, it would have taight me the confidence to persevere in my aspirations and never take the easy way out.

One confounding fact I learned from Kathy this evening is that FEI does not allow riders to enjoy performance enhancing drugs. What?! Normally that rule would make sense - Tour de France is all about the rider's performance. But with equestrian sports, the rider just flops about while their horse does all the hard work. Trust me on that, I would know. So it doesn't really matter if we riders take performance enhancing drugs because we don't actually perform! Rules are dumb.

Speaking of rules, I should take a moment to precisely explain the precarious sport of prancing. Basically, a repugnant peasant places your pony on a clothes line and pivots him or her around in a pretty prancing approximation of a parabola. You then prance into the paddock like you're a pretty pony, and pursue your pretty pony as if to proclaim that you are the prettier pony. (Get "all up" in its pretty face like you're juding its haircut - that has the propensity to please the panel of prancing judges.) This whole thing is primarily a pretty pony prance-off. The judges then assess the prettiest prancing, and place a prize ribbon on the pranciest pony, which, of course, is me.

Oh... Kathy, I forgot to ask while we were all together... can you help me assess how many dapples this horse has? Asking for a friend.