Vegas, burning bright

September '09, I got a nice little horse for free. Didn't pay a sweet dime for him. He was a 4 year old ex-racehorse, Thoroughbred, standing 15.1hh and cute as a button. I was told he was unrideable, that I couldn't even tack him up, as he was such a nutter. Not so! He was fully tacked up twenty minutes after the trailer was out the driveway and ridden walk/trot/canter three days later.

In a gory situation that I won't go into detail about, he rapidly lost weight and condition and, to put it bluntly, started to look like hell. So, my boss from the barn where I work hooked up the trailer after I started crying at work one day, drove me to the barn where my horse was, loaded him into the trailer, and brought him to what is now 'home'. That was December 9th 2009. It's been a long journey, but he is finally looking like a normal horse! It is time to start working him to build muscle in the right places, and get him going as a nice little hunter.

The photo above/right is him on Dec.10th 2009, immediately after arriving at the new barn.

The photo above/left is him on May 10th 2010. A world of difference.

Incentive- do you understand that word?

I had very good reason to send off a rip-roaring bitch of an e-mail to somebody I hate, anyway, the other day. It felt so good to get it off my chest, despite the threat of calling the cops. And somehow being made into the villain in the situation, even though SHE is the one with NO respect for boundaries or other people. Not to mention she's a pug-fugly slut.

In a nut shell, I told her if she didn't respect some boundaries, as an added incentive (and here, I insulted her by asking if she understood the word) I would rip out her own hair and use it to throttle her if she didn't.

Well. She talked to our 'mutual friend' and threatened to call the cops. But didn't. It would be my luck to get the same one who did my psychological evaluation this time- he would follow routine, then drop me off at home, laughing. Looove the bicycle cop. Awesome dude. Oh, yeah- she was all like, "I have an IQ of 132, I don't have to put up with this shit!"

(Not that IQ is relevant, but mine is 146).

I don't care what IQ you have. You can have an IQ of 209 and still be a dumb bitch.

So peace. If I see her at the bar. She won't have eyeballs left with which to see.

I'm not normally a violent person, but my limits have been tried, tested and pushed to the max. And I'm DONE taking crap from disrespectful, pushy people who take advantage of your niceness. I'm not naive- I KNOW what's going on. Don't act like I'm stupid... thats the worst part of all this. Either she thinks I'm stupid and wouldn't know, or she just doesn't care and is every bit as disrespectful and whore-y as I thought.

(Did I mention she's pug-fugly?)