You think this post is going to be about football now, don’t you? No, no…think again, Readers, THINK AGAIN. This is more or less a conversation between me and the BFF last weekend:

Me: I found me a cowboy!!!

Her: Like a real live one?

Me: Um, yes. Not the kind the plays football on my TV. The kind that wears hats, buckles and…BOOTS! Not, you know, helmets and spandex.

So basically, CLSL has gone country. Not that it was THAT much of a stretch, really. I already have someone telling me I sound like the talking pothole on the Geico commercial. Whatevs, he’s from Jersey and likes the Eagles. Therefore, doesn’t count. A little background (as if you don’t already know enough about me), I grew up in a hardcore farming, ranching and rodeo family. Bull riders, barrel racers, team ropers. Lots of cows. Mainly bull riders. I flirted with the idea of barrel racing when I was much, much younger. But I’ve not been on a horse in probably 20 years. About as country as I’ve gotten over those years is attending Eli Young Band shows at Gilley’s in Dallas and helping my mom feed horses the last time I was home. The year I grew out of my rodeo phase is coincidentally around the same time I grew ginormously into hockey. Much to the chagrin of my mother. Having said that…apparently there’s still hope she’ll get the daughter she’s always wanted.

Fireworks! Confetti! Big shiny trucks!

Readers you know I went to Vegas this past weekend. I failed to mention (quite possibly on purpose) is it was actually for the PBR World Finals. That would be pro bull riding, not Pabst Blue Ribbon…seriously. Let me rephrase that, I went to Vegas to see my family…my family went to Vegas for The PBR. My dad is totally a bull rider groupie. It’s awesome. I had no intention of actually attending any of the rounds. I just wanted to drink. A lot. Then sleep that off and go drink some more. (I did that too, don’t you worry…apparently I like Jack now?). After arriving on Thursday I found out there are AFTER PARTIES each night. My dad goes “would you be interested in going to that?” Silly father, have we met? Where do you think I got my drinking gene from!?

So the rest of the story goes something like this: Girl goes to the first after party. Girl drinks. Girl meets hot cowboy (again, the real kind!). Girl drinks more. Girl really likes hot cowboy. Hot cowboy seems to like girl and is ridiculously charming (though her Mama taught her better about them cowboys). Girl all of the sudden decides to go to bull riding next night. Girl drinks some more. Girl finds out that YES, she does like bull riding. Now she is HOOKED. The end.

Not really.

They don't need no stinking red cape

But seriously, bull riding is the shit. I was tremendously entertained that Sean Willingham comes out of the chute to “Ice Cream Paint Job” (I’ll forgive him the fact it was stuck in my head for FOUR DAYS…PS I love him). The PBR calls bull riding “the toughest sport on earth”. That ain’t no lie. I grew up around this crap and still tend to forget how ridiculously dangerous it is. As if the bull rider himself isn’t cookoo panties enough, the bullfighters are downright masochists. And I’m not talking about the kind that come in red capes and gold get-ups. You know them as rodeo clowns. Ain’t gonna lie to you…IT’S ALL KINDA HOT. These boys have grown up doing this, rodeo is TRULY a way of life. They probably mounted (haha, mounted) their first bull before their voices changed. Their fathers did it. Their grandfathers did it. And trust me, rodeo wives put up with massive bullshit (no pun intended). Not only do they suffer WEEKS of separation, but also? Buckle bunnies are much worse than any puck bunny I’ve ever met.

Million dollar cowboy

So I guess you can take the girl out of the country and she can do EVERYTHING in her power for two decades to rid herself of the country, but…it don’t work. Can’t take the country out of the girl and it might just slap her in the face one night wearing a black felt hat and Southern smile.

Poor Miles Austin, he’s gotta make room for “the real live kind” now. Bless his heart.

P.S. To your left you will find 2009 World Champion Kody Lostroh. Ladies, I TOLD YOU SO. I fancy myself a Luke Snyder and Willingham girl, though. When the Ladies… are up for a hump day hotties rodeo version (should it not have already been done)…call me. I got this.

All pics are from ESPN.com’s Rodeo and Professional Bull Riding section cause by golly they actually have one…who knew?!

That's me! Number 19! I'VE HAD IT FOR A YEAR.

Home safe home from nasty and humid Orlando. Very, very happy to back in Los Angeles. I did jack nothing for Halloween, as I’m having a terrible time adjusting to both the time difference and now the time change. I did make it out to Santa Monica to hang with the Cowboys peeps yesterday, tis been awhile. I’ve decided that 10 a.m. games + bloody marys have taken 3rd place in my ultimate list of soul mates (right after peanut butter + chocolate and me + Taylor Lautner will be when he’s legal…as mentioned before). Anyhow, the Cowboys peeps? Yeah, they’ve decided I’m some sort of oracle thanks to the fact I’ve had a Miles Austin jersey for a year. Have I mentioned I’ve had my jersey for a year? Cause I’ve totally had my jersey for a year. They want to know who I’m buying next, Bennett? Ogletree? What they fail to realize is I put SO MUCH EFFORT into this relationship that I’m tired, fool. I just want to sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labor. You can’t force amazingness, yo.

A funny thing happened whilst walking into a movie theatre yesterday. As I was finding a seat in a sold out auditorium of “This Is It” I swear to Jebus I got the loudest SHOUT OUT ever for my jersey. This dude was like “Wow, Miles Austin…NICE!” I was like “I know.”

So that was a first. Dearest Miles, I’m invisible most of the time to folks…so between me getting a shout out and you getting your own post on Kissing Suzy Kolber, dude, it’s safe to say…YOU HAVE MADE IT.

Speaking of amazingness. And luck. I WON A PS3 LAST WEEK! True story! This makes me happy for multitudes of reasons. I owned a PS3 at one point in time, but I lost it in the Heinous Split of 2008. So here I’ve sat with Blu Rays and no way to play them and a burning itch to finally learn how to play Madden. Not only that, but I use to be pretty bad ass at the EA NHL game. Now you can bring it on, bitches.

There was totes something else I was going to say, but I don’t remember what. Plenty of posts coming this week if I’m not coming down with the pig flu. And I don’t have time for the pig flu, cause I have the Vegas in THREE DAYS!

Before I forget, I have to send a shout out to the bartenders of and highly recommend High Voltage, the sports bar at Marriott World Center in Orlando. Those guys were the shit, despite the fact one was a Philly fan. They were so cool to me, the only girl and only person in a jersey for almost four hours Sunday before last. Three beers and two Miles Austin TDs later I was everyone’s BFF. Especially the guys from Buffalo sitting next to me who kept offering to give TO back and the table of Patriots fans behind me who tried to get my attention for two hours and finally cracked me with “everyone knows Romo is just an ugly version of Brady”. That one got me.