yadda - yadda - yadda - the end.

No, no...it is not REALLY the end of the blog.

I am sure you are all as sick of hearing about horse shopping as I was of actually horse shopping, and as I am of writing about it here now.  So it is the end of that.

But before we move on...

I know that half of you are saying:

- "I can't believe she actually bought the funky cross - what a loser"

While the other half are saying:

- "I can't believe she actually bought the funky cross - what fun"

And 100% of you are probably wondering by now, if you were to meet me in real life and watched me riding around the arena - would you laugh and point, just point and back away slowly in horror, observe quietly then mock me on UDBB, perhaps choose to ride your own horse at a later time so as to avoid death by collision...

Or maybe...does Dressage Curmudgeon weigh 400lbs, are her half passes actually leg yeilds, does she really bounce alarmingly during extended trot, do the funky bobbing chicken thing during her changes, and lack the ability to count to 4, 4x in a row?

There are so many possibilities, so many things you are probably pondering... and on closer inspection, they all boil down to one thing...

You are asking yourself  "am I going to waste my time reading the training journal of someone who actually - really - sucks". 

And I am here today to help you to decide whether or not you want to blow your lunchhour with me, rather than hearing muffin recipe secrets of the woman in the cubicle next door, or whatever the hot topics may be in your office during breaks.

(I am hearing about why she chooses to eat kraft dinner for lunch right now...innnteresting.  Now - she is discussing belly dancing...oh, there is a visual I could live without). 

To accomplish this... I will also share with you THE END of the story, big picture.  As in... how Ms. V turned out.

(Oh, now she is on about the movie "Alive" for some strange reason - you remember, the one where the plane crashed, and the soccer players ate each other.  NO, no NO... they didn't eat each other in a sexy way, seriously, you are a sicko.  They probably all shit their pants when the plane was crashing, I know I would - so that is the last thing you would want to do to any of them...)

Anyway... to help with your decision...I bring you... a video.  Of Ms. V and me - the one and only video I will ever post.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6lVREQxr6k

I think it is only fair since so many of you have committed serious time and effort to following my somewhat lucid ramblings - there have been close to 65,000 visitors to the blog even though it is about dressage AND is completely free of porn - who would have thought it possible?

In return, I ask only three things:

1.  That the first person who feels the overwhelming need to comment on my lack of a helmet - takes my heartfelt invitation to fuck right off. Go discuss muffins and kraft dinner.

(In fact I do always wear a helmet, but the coach at the time insisted that in a sales video, lack of a helmet shows that you are not afraid of dying if your ride without one.  Apparently a "selling point").

2.  That as time goes by and I post tales of my trials and tribulations working with my 4 year old / 5 year old / 6 year old... every time someone who has not clued in to the fact that this HAS ALREADY HAPPENED suggests that I sell my horse, try a new saddle, consult horse communicator, drink vodka, have her teeth checked, smoke weed, take up Rumoli - whatever... that it will be the responsibility of you, my dear readers,  to point them to this video.

I can't be on here 24/7 explaining the meaning of "retrospecive".  And I am not climbing aboard the way-back machine to try any of these innovative solutions.  So thanks, but no thanks.

(In fact, I am thinking of designing a t-shirt or badge that I can send out as a prize to the first one who says "WATCH THE VIDEO, ASSHOLE" to the offending parties). 

(No, no no..the t-shirt itself would not say WATCH THE VIDEO, ASSHOLE.  Although it does have a catchy ring to it.  It would say something pithy about being a dressage curmudgeon.  )

 I am telling you, if we just go back in time to 2006 and whack her in the head with a parelli stick thingy, all your problems will be solved!

Thirdly - if you feel the need to critique - knock yourself out. I am not afraid to take my turn. As the quote goes.."There is nothing more exhilarating than pointing out the shortcomings of others, is there?" 

Of course there isn't.  Otherwise... none of us would be here reading, would we?