Quick to the throat in this ink cartridge funeral;
I'm fucking phsyched. Show season is coming up and I could not be happier. I love my horse and I love my fucking sport. I can't explain it, there's absolutely nothing in the world that feels as good as jumping a clean round. Riding wasn't on my top list of priorities for a while, there, but I'm back in my routine of things. Bart's been throwing temper tantrums every time I leave after riding and kicking down walls. He knocked down TWO on separate occasions. I've never had anything, let alone an animal, love me that much. It's a bad circumstance, but nonetheless it's a really nice thing to know. He's my baby princess poo bear. I'm sorry for boring you guys, I'm just excited.
So Matt and I are ... well let's just say we're still alive.
Thursday's new shit is mildly dissapointing, but nonetheless we're seeing them at Irving and I'm ecstatic. I love them, every single thing about that band. I like them more than I liked N*SYNC as an 8 year old, and THAT's love.
So Matt and I are ... well let's just say we're still alive.
Thursday's new shit is mildly dissapointing, but nonetheless we're seeing them at Irving and I'm ecstatic. I love them, every single thing about that band. I like them more than I liked N*SYNC as an 8 year old, and THAT's love.