The Lone Democrat

Last night I did something completely out of character. I walked around looking at cows...for fun! Actually they were bulls, but whatever. The fam was headed to Riverbend to check out the bulls they'll be auctioning off today and to eat a ranch-worthy meal of steaks washed down with Mountain Dew and I figured I'd go along. You know, spend time with the siblings. Anyone who knows me knows when I was younger I had reoccuring dreams about cows (with blood dripping down their vampire teeth) eating people. Probably a product of my life-long fear of cows. And anyone who knows me knows I'm not really a farm/ranch/cowboy kind of person. Apparently that gene skipped me. So while Shay and Sidnee were eyeing the bulls with FFA trained skills and making a mental wish list, I was fretting about the mud getting on my boots and wondering who was stupid enough to climb in the pens to walk around with the giant, scary animals. Once they were satisfied they'd seen every last animal, we went back into the barn-that-looked-more-like-a-hotel-than-a-barn-cum-auction-area and got in line for the food (which, of course, was the real reason I came). The salad was delicious, the cheesecake to die for, and the steak...well...I came to the realization that despite my previous declarations, I could never eat a human being. No matter how hungry I was. The steak, though it smelled really good, was bleeding all over my paper plate and soaking through onto the plastic table covering. It wasn't really cooked at all, just browned on the outside, so that the inside was chewy and reminding me very much of the autopsy I'd witnessed. When you get right down to it, flesh all looks like flesh, no matter where it comes from. I tried to eat some, to be polite. I mean, I was surrounded by BIG beef people, all of whom looked like they could beat the crap out of me (and who no doubt could tell I was completely out of my element). But every bite I took made me feel like a cannibal. Unlike some carnivorous vampires (aka my brother), I can't handle the taste of blood. About half way through the dinner I realized a few things. Practically everyone there had a cowboy hat on and the same exact mustache, the ones that look like it's dripping onto their chins. I also realized the only guy I saw there that was remotely attractive was the only one not wearing cowboy gear. That's rather telling. And the third thing I realized? My little sister is smarter than practically everyone on our table. She was holding conversations with doctor so and so from Simplot and miss so and so from Altech. I didn't understand a single flipping word she said, so I started holding coversations in my head with imaginary people. And then the room started to smell like cow poo, so I looked around and noticed the farmhands, or whatever they perfer to be called, had walked in to get some dinner. No one else noticed the smell, I'm sure. To them it no doubt smells like money or washes them in waves of nostalgia. As for me, well, I was wearing Dolce and Gabbana perfume, thinking it would be funny if my reggae ringtone went off, and realizing I don't fit into any category whatsoever. Hmmmmm.....