I did it. I rode a horsie for the first time and lived to tell the tale! That's me over there with my riding companion, Santano. Born and bred in Italy. A real Italian Stallion. Take that, Rocky! As you know, I went out to my friend, Kristin's, horsie farm for the weekend for a home made Hungarian dinner and my first pony ride! She and her mama raise horses and teach lessons. Thus, my first ride and lesson.
Kristin herself gave me the lesson. First up. Helmet. Sure it's a bike helmet. And how can that save me from certain death? "Here lies Jimmy Aquino. He always wore a helmet. Except down there. That's why he died of Syphilis." Uh...not sure what that meant. Back to the horse ride. I use a whee step ladder to get up on Santano. "Where's the saddle?", I ask. "You're going bareback. There's a small blanket, if that makes you feel better.", Kristin replies.
Wow. She's a harsh teacher! I was afraid she was gonna beat me with the riding crop. As you can see, I was pretty scared. More of her, than of Santano bucking me. Santano was a gentle horse. He could sense if I was uncomfortable and would stop. Needless to say, he stopped a lot. Hey! I wasn't that uncomfortable! Kristin led us around and taught me how to use the reins and my legs. Pull to stop. Squeeze a bit to make him go faster. AAAHHHHHHHHH!!!! PULL REINS! Phew. That was a close one. After a couple of turns, Kristin let me steer him and control him myself. I got him to go faster, slow down, stop, turn and trot a bit to my command!
Finally! I was master of the horse. A true cowboy! Inspired by one of the greatest movies ever, Young Guns, I donned my kerchief, let my hair down and took Santano off for some bank robbing, raping and pillaging!
Suddenly, I realized that Santano was over 20 years old and couldn't run very far. And he realized I was barely controlling him and wasn't in the mood to succumb to my evil ways. My days as a bad ass desperado lasted all of 45 seconds. Sighing heavily, I dismounted Santano. Dreams crushed. I promised him that I'd sneak him out at night and we would run off together to a life on the range. Maybe live on a mountain. We could make a movie about it. Bareback Mountain. Okay, not all that original, but it seemed to make him smile. Either that or he just had a good poop.
We'll always have the trot, Santano. We'll always have the trot.
I'm heading out to Pennsylvania in a few hours to my friend, Kristin's farm. She and her mother have a horse farm and teach lessons. I have never been on a horse. Actually, I was on one when I was a wee young buck, but didn't ride by any means. I'm sure I was quickly taken off for fear that I would tame the wild beast and ride off into the sunset. Not because I was crying my eyes out. There's no crying in horseback riding! Kristin has promised me a free lesson if we arrive early enough. I must say, I'm a bit trepidatious. Mostly because I know how sore my nether regions will be after. If it's anything like the mechanical bull riding I did back in October, my lasso and spurs will be aching for days, if ya get my drift! 
Leila Arcieri. This former beauty queen sizzles the screen as a special government agent. Now, if they would have made the movie about her own mammoths, then it would have been better. Of course, if they were wooly, then that would just be gross. 
And, finally, the ugly. The weather last night. I went out briefly to the deli and got drenched! Glad I was still in the middle of watching Elizabeth I. Usually, my night ends with the ugly. I wake up and realize that Loosey is next to me. She's the neighborhood hooker with a heart of gold. And a face of Medusa. And a body of a crackhead. Oh yeah. She is a crackhead. Hey, there's that heart of gold though! 
Let the "Young Kirk" and "Young Spock" casting rumors begin! Maybe J.J. Abrams (pictured above) would stay loyal to his TV shows like Lost and Alias. He could feel bad for killing off Ian Somerhalder in the first season of Lost. He might be a good young Spock. Whaddya think? 
My newest gaming obsession. Lara Croft, Tomb Raider: Legend. After finishing The Godfather game last week and becoming The Don of New York City, I felt complacent. I rule NYC, but where to next? Then along comes Lara with her ample bosomed, tight short shorts wearing, guns blazing, grapple tossing, rock climbing, grenade throwing, artifact finding, cliff hanging, adventurous self. I have already been to Bolivia and Peru and am now currently in Japan. She is a world traveler indeed! Always well dressed. And yes, I know she's pixelated. 
But she isn't. 
You kids seem to like the stories I tell. What am I, Mother Goose? More like a Brother Grimm. Maybe a Grimm Goose? Anyway, inspired by Kevin Smith's blog, I attempted a 2 parter with My Vampire Porn Story. Perhaps it was the subject matter, but that one proved most popular. I may experiment more on that style with an even longer story or stories. Don't know how many parts these will be. Perhaps three. Perhaps eleventeen thousand million. One story that some of you know is the one on how I found my sister, Marsha. And if you don't know it, then you are in for a treat. I have it written down in my head. And on my head. If I ever shaved these long locks, you'd find about 7 novels in small print tattooed on my noggin. 