Got a new horse. I’m not gonna lie. She’s more fun than patriarchy blaming. Her name is Iz. For those who give a fig about equine particulars, she’s a bloomy 10-year-old chestnut 15.3 Thoroughbred/Oldenburg cross who never puts a foot wrong. We’ll be doing the low hunters, Spinster Aunt Division. In this award-nominated video Iz demonstrates her delightful disposition.
Will this blog ever be its old self again? Well, the racket of the crickets has tapered off such that I can now hear the toads, which make a noise like a game show buzzer only louder and more interminable. I know of no sound more likely to hurl me into a frogicidal mania. The other night, dripping with sweat and sleep deprivation, I completely lost it and actually tried to brain one with a shovel (no need to call PETA; I missed). I’m on 2 hours of sleep right now. Something’s gotta give. It doesn’t look like the toads are gonna give, so I’ll probably just claw my own face off soon.
But blaming will resume nevertheless. I’ve recently seen some shit on TV that blew my entire lobe, and I can’t wait to complain about it on the Internet!