weiners and wallabies

At the Humpty show on Sunday night, there was a horse. It was an outdoor show, in a courtyard slash beer garden-y area. The horse spent the show behind me, doing tricks. And by tricks, I mean getting his wiener going. ON.CUE.

Yep, every time his owner gave the signal, his baby maker came out to play. Some people were like, wow, that horse is amazing

I was all, dude, I can make my husband do that by just showing him my boobs. In fact, I bet most of us sheilas have that superpower. Am I right? Although the power probably lessens with age and gravity

I totally wanted saddle up (when he wasn’t ‘excited’) and bust out a Glen Campbell tune – ’til I remembered I’mΒ allergic to the fuckers

So I had to settle for this little bubba. Altogether now….awwwwww!


I was signing a lady’s DVD after the show and she asked me to sign her Wallaby. She reached into her bag, and I was expecting her to pull out a stuffed animal. Wrong

How adorable is he?

I would so loved to have brought him home for the girls – that would have been an Easter present to beat – but the whole quarantine-thing is a bit of a kill-joy when it comes to smugglingΒ exporting native Australian animals

Plus, as anyone with more than one child knows – if there’s not one for each kid, don’t even bother. That poor Β little bugger will be fought over and ripped in half faster than you can say, “Yay, Mummy’s home!”

So basically, I saved his life

 

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