I got a pedicure for the first time this weekend.  It was nice.  Had my toes painted bright pink, which I’ve never done before.  And while getting this delicious pedicure, I read the magazine Maxim for the first time.  I’ve gotta say, I’m half-tempted to get a subscription–it’s that good.  The articles are for the most part great.  They actually talk about things that interest me, which most magazines don’t.  In addition, there is really cute lingerie since it’s mainly a guy’s magazine.  Though since it is for men, I have to look in the back to find out where the lingerie can be bought, and they definitely don’t have the prices in there.

A note to the men who have read this month’s issue:  do not buy the necklace that they suggest you buy for your girlfriend unless she is about 80 years old, or she has the taste of a senior citizen.  Seriously.  I’m just helping you out.

In other news, I had planned on going to the Dunes Saturday afternoon, but that morphed into going to Brown County to go horseback riding.  They put me, the smallest person in the group, on the largest horse.  Seriously, it was half Clydesdale.  The stirrup was about face-height, and that was before they shortened it.  Good thing I’m flexible, or I never would have gotten up on the thing at all.  In addition to having my legs ridiculously far apart because of the giant horse, the saddle was perhaps the cheapest, most uncomfortable saddle ever in existence.  Two days later, it still hurts to sit down.  I think it bruised my bones.  I found myself really wishing that they had strapped a motorcycle seat to the horse instead of a saddle–what an improvement that would have been!
The horse was a stubborn one, and I had to keep a literal tight rein on it, otherwise it would have run far ahead of the group on the trail.  I found myself wishing I had worn my boots, which I would have if I had known we were going riding.  I also would have liked a handkerchief cause DANG, it was one dusty trail.  In all it was not the best horseback riding I’ve ever done.  The horse almost fell underneath me on the trail three times.  I couldn’t help but think, ‘How quickly can I pull my leg out from the stirrup?  Can I do it before the horse hits the ground?‘  Luckily, the horse and myself made it back safe and relatively sound.  I must have been in a sort of Billy Madison mood, because I found myself constantly referring to my horse as "Swan".  (Perhaps because he was so graceful?)

Yee-haw.  At least we’ll always have Maxim, right?

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