Breeders' Cup Report

Yesterday I set out, as all losers do, to rollerblade. My new roller rink is a parking lot, which that morning contained a certain... smell.

Horses! There were horses nearby! Nobody appreciates a good pile of manure on top of a good pile of hay like I do. I ran to the fence and cooed at a little Shetland, who was all, "Whatever." Because I am not so stupid as to stick my fingers through a small area in the general direction of a bored and pissy pony's mouth, I petted his flank with as much of my hand as I could. The Shetland, sensing the gentle touch of a fervent and lonely horselover, turned his head, fixed his big brown eyes on me, and was all, "Whatever."

An Appaloosa came over to see what all the fuss was about, and I beckoned her closer. "Hi, pony girl! Hello there!" She came to a halt, and turned a beautiful neck towards me, annnnnnd... pointedly gazed in the opposite direction.

Well, screw you too. I can get that every day of the week from my students, and they at least don't pee in the out-of-doors. That I know of. But today I got me the Breeders' Cup. I have NBC on right now; Notre Dame has a bye, which is just as well, because I'm starting to suspect this team is calibrated, week to week, solely to suck away my will to live.

Watch with me! Don't ask for handicapping advice! I don't know what I'm doing either!

Horsie lexicon here

two dollars down at: mb@blondechampagne.com