On Sunday Suzanne, Donna, Kat and I crashed my work’s box at MSG for the Professional Bull Riders.
Granted, not as funny as the Truckee, CA rodeo I grew up going to where the opening prayer said “at the pearly gates God would say ‘welcome, cowboy your entry fee is paid’” but it was still hilariously filled with angry bulls, chaps, manure, Coors Light and foot-longs, all right here in the middle of Manhattan.
(I sadly look a lot like Melissa Etheridge in my Grandpa’s old pearl snap shirt.)
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