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A Cowboy Needs a Horse

Have you ever heard of Big Week?

No, it is not the aerial bombing of the 1940s.

And no, it is not the Biggest Losers counterpart – Smallest Winner.

Where I am from, Big Week is Rodeo week. It is held every year toward the end of July and is supposedly the largest on the west coast.

Cowboy Needs a Horse

Now, I may have redneck tendencies, but I am no cowboy. Disney Sing-A-Long has contrived a list of requirements one has to ascertain to be designated a cowboy. A cowboy needs a horse, a hat, a pair of fancy boots, a set of shiny spurs, and a rope-o-o-o if he wants to be a cowboy. Let me calculate my haul of currently owned items…Carry the two, subtract the W, add pie, pumpkin preferably…Zero. That suggests my attire for such an event is exiguous in comparison to fellow attendees. I end up looking like a Hipster-Wannabe-Cowboy with a plaid shirt, skinny-FIT jeans (there is a difference), and some shoes. Meanwhile, I see men and women dressing to the nines in their western wardrobe. I’ve always wondered, wow, for a country guy (or girl) they sure look spiffy. I’ve wondered how they have kept their clothes so crisp and immaculate. I’ve come to the conclusion it is because they only wear the shit once a year. Now, my town has its fair share of rednecks, but we are more infamously known for our gang affairs. Local law enforcement is just not well versed in managing snapping Broadway gangsters. One would reckon that Jazz Hands 101 be a prerequisite to graduate the Police Academy. Regardless, fact of the matter is this town does not have that many country people. We do have a lot of pretenders. And none are The Great.

I know this to be a fact. I have friends who participate in these rodeo festivities. Friends who are only cowboys for 168 hours. While not the same amount of hours, I liken it to how long it felt when watching James Franco’s movie. It appears to be a lengthy carving of time, but put in perspective with the 8766 hours in a year, it’s rather brief. It does not prevent them from embodying their western clothes and jumping up on that “high horse.” Pun(s) intended. For one week they think they are some badass cowboy. Until I remind them, “You work at Carls Jr., you don’t listen to country music, and you’ve never even ridden a horse. The closest you’ve come to western is selling me a Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger. Now, which window do I pull up to? The second? Why do you have two windows, but only occupy one? I want to know what’s behind window number one.” Okay, I got carried away with that fabricated conversation, but the drift has been got.

HF

There are exceptions to this rule. Women. I do not care if you have never seen the stars above the city glow. If you want to slap on some daisy dukes, roll up your t-shirt, and rock some boots you go right ahead and do so. There are so many cheap jokes here, I’m talking five cent spittoon cigars worth, but I will take the high road, the one that leads off into the sunset. In a car.

What Say You?

I created this blog to become famous.

I have been blogging for a year and a half.

I’m not famous…Yet.Not Famous

I’m like Zach Stone. Well, not entirely. I’m not famous, but I’m not canceled. Meaning I have not eighty-sixed my aspiration. I have instead taken to WordPress to ask for some advice.

Facebook

  • Should I create a Facebook page for my blog?

I have analyzed the layout of several different blogs. Some have chosen to adopt the sociality offered by a Blog Facebook page. Others have crossed the desert plain and pick up their viewers mano a mano. I’ve done a mixture of both. I post my blogs on my personal Facebook and I frequent other blogs to spread the Good Will-you come and check out my blog. That way, it is the, “I scratch your back, you give me a foot massage,” ordeal. So far I have come across very few foot massagers. I tell them to not mind the calluses on the heel; that it adds character, but to no avail. I suppose I am curious as to how illustriously a Blog Facebook page contributes to the traffic of a blog?

Stumbleupon

  • Does Stumbleupon draw a crowd?

This is not a new tactic for me. I have posted my blogs on Stumbleupon to help speed the traffic of my blog. Last year, it worked well. In every circumstance, I was gaining fifteen to twenty more views from Stumbleupon. I think they are on to my self-promotion though. Since 2013, I have probably had anywhere from fifteen to twenty views from Stumbleupon altogether. I know these Stumbleupon views do not bestow a consistent fan base, but they look oh-so-pretty on the bar chart. Just ask the ladies, or men. Do they want a 10-15 view length bar? Or do they way a 100-200 view length bar? Cosmetics are important in the world of blogging. I am curious as to what other people’s strategy is for approaching Stumbleupon. Have you found it worth your while or has it wiled away your worth?

  • Should I change my blog name?

The name Titillating Thoughts has done me well during my blogging lifespan, but perhaps it’s time to give it a stronger pulse. I want my blogs pulse to relate to, “I’m overweight and I just ran twenty minutes, I may die right now.” That’s a powerful, erratic pulse. The methods in which to achieve this would be to come up an easily searchable, catchy name that relates to my posts. My honest thoughts on this are:

  1. Hilarity Ensues OR The Ensuing Hilarity OR Am I Funny Yet?
  2. The Funny Pseudologist OR A Silly Pseudologist OR The Honest Pseudologist
  3. The Face of Facetious OR The Face in FacetiousModel

Those are some of my top contenders at this point in time. I am unsure if it is possible to keep this blog, but change the name, but if so, those are some possibilities. What say you?

  • Is buying a domain name worth it?

Is it…Is it really?

Is This The Real Life…Is This Just Fantasy?

Simpson beer

As a young tike, I remember watching The Simpsons. I was always intrigued when Homer would stroll into Moe’s Tavern and order a beer. Moe would grab an icy mug and fill it up with Homer’s favorite Duff beer. The head of the beer flowing over the rim of the mug; exuding a succulent presentation. It always made Homer content to be downing the cold beverage. The foamy goodness of the beer head reminded me of the sugary texture of cotton candy (or “fairy floss” if you are from down under). I yearned for an opportunity to drown my taste buds in it. When the day arrived on my, ahem, TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY, ahem, I ordered a Newcastle Brown Ale at a local pub. The beer had a good head on it, and all my childhood memories of the Simpsons flooded my mind. I lifted the glass to my lips, feeling the condensation of the glass on the palm of my hand and the droplets of fizzled beer splashing about.  I tilted my head back and took a big gulp.

Yucky. Yeah, men say yucky.

My dream fell into ruins. It turns out that receiving head is not superlative in all scenarios. In fact, beer head is actually the worst part of a beer. Do I blame The Simpsons for such a travesty? No. I blame A&W Root Beer. The frothy foam that I indulged in as a child did not transcend with the alcoholic beverage. Damn you A&W…But four or five more of these Newcastles and I’ll forgive you.

This may be more common than not. I build up an experience in my mind and when it does not translate into reality, disappointment ensues. To list a few of my other disappointing sights to mouth translations:

Hunny

  • Winnie the Pooh’s “Hunny” vs. Honey

When I was five or six, I use to go over to my cousins house and play in the backyard. There was a shelf attached to one of the fences in the backyard, and on it rested a pot quite similar to that of Winnie the Pooh’s. I remember we tried a bunch of acrobatic circus-foolery in order to achieve the pot. After a few years went by, our height improved, our acrobatics did not, but we were able to reach the “Hunny” pot. We opened it up, and it was just an unused planter pot. I mean, we should have known. It didn’t say “Hunny”, and what were we expecting to find from a pot that had been left outside for two to three years to brace the weather? I don’t know. What I do know, is that when I finally did get a good look at honey, it looked nothing like the scrumpdeliciousness that Winnie the Pooh coveted. I felt like Eeyore; hope for the world had ceased to be.

TMNT Pizza

  •     Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Pizza vs. Pizza

Okay. I do not have much to say on this one. Pizza is pizza, and it is exquisite, but I am still searching for the pizza that pranced around in my dreams. I imagine someone who makes that sloppy-cheesy-yums-the-word pizza, could open up a pizza store called “Cowabunga!” I’d go there…frequently.

 Barney

  • Barney Birthday Cake vs. Cake

This one is the most obscure of all the ones mentioned. I use to own a videotape of Barney’s birthday. It was a colorful VHS tape. Purple or orange…It doesn’t matter. What matters, is that they made a layered cake on the video. While, I know the kids did not smooth it out to perfection as it was shown in the video, the cake still looked delicious. Since then, I have seen better cakes. Cake Boss anyone? Buddy is amazing. But still…The the cake in that video is burned into my head and was another item that I searched for as a child.

I can’t be the only one who would love a Simpson beer and Ninja turtle pizza followed by a Barney cake with “Hunny” filling for dessert.

Do you have food or other items that you are still searching for from your favorite shows?

Call Me Mr.

On Friday, I received some exciting news.

I have been offered a teaching position at a high school.

Interaction between teacher and children, funny class in schoolI am thinking he just asked who wants candy. Otherwise, that is way too many hands.

After believing that I would be dining in the soup kitchen, and working on my 300 line, “Tonight, we dine in Hell,” I will no longer need such devices. It is a fantastical sensation. To put down my hedge trimmers and no longer need to lock down my landscape position in front of Home Depot. It is a relief. Plus, I was not corralling the highest amount of praise for my Sonic the Hedgehog lawn design. I guess interest in Sonic died with Sega. I’d mow a Mario, but it is not in my drawing repertoire, in fact nothing else is. That, and it would most likely end in a racial depiction of an Italian with a crooked moustache. Nobody wants that.

By becoming a teacher, I receive a contract. It is a one year contract that dictates what I will be required to do. Teach, obviously.

I am treating it like I am an unrestricted free agent. People do not just happen across a gem like me, alright? The Alexandrite. Game time was fast approaching, and they realized they had a gap to fill in the roster. Enter me. I go in and sign this contract today. I have it all thought out. I’m taking my agent with me to negotiate a good deal.

Hint: I am the agent.

Hint #2: I’ll be accepting the first number they throw at me.

Also, like any good free agent, before I sign, I want to be courted too. I want to feel the love. In the teaching world, courted equates to someone holding the door open for you once. Secondly, I want a signing bonus. And by a signing bonus, I mean high fives throughout the office. Are low fives back in? Hugs, maybe? I’ll choose my targets wisely. Ladies…

In truth, I am excited. This is a great opportunity for me to begin the career of my choice. The past five years have come to fruition and I am now a full-pledged teacher.

Oorah! Or whatever the Marine equivalent is for teaching? Apple!…?

The Big 5-0

This post is the big 5-0. In the human cycle, it would be subjected the caducity of life. Even if fifty is the new forty, this blog would be predicated as over the hill. Fortunately, this is a blog. Its hilly elevated excursion is only in its infancy. The first fifty can equate to my inaugural speech. Fifty posts may be a smidgen too long for an inaugural speech, but I am taking a page out of President William Henry Harrison’s book. Well, minus the death only a month later. And as the grandson of William Henry Harrison and the twenty-third president of the United States, Benjamin Harrison said, “Great blogs never go out, they go on.” And yes, he said blogs. He was an avant-garde. But enough about old dead white guys.

Before I continue, let’s commence our flashback portion of this post. Yes, it seems every monumental post number requires a flashback. You know, so my new followers can witness my sagacity and my veterans can reminisce in it. Here are four of my favorite posts that received no affection:

Backspaced – An interesting idea about the backspace button.

Taintalizing – Three thoughts. Titillating as always.

In With the Old; Out With the New – Breasts, Ice Cream, and Cheetahs. It’s got it all.

I Hear the Train A’Coming – The double B’s…Bathroom and Bowling.

Now then, I was going to create a video blog to commemorate this day and show my appreciation to those who have supported this blog, but I’m not. I believe that written word holds more power than that which is verbally mentioned. And I am not in a position to create a meaningful video. So here is my thank you speech.

This is going to be difficult. It is hard to thank everyone when I am loved by so many (Hey now, don’t burst my bubble).

The most important honors go to someone special who, without her encouragement, my blog would still be sorted among status updates and 140 character stories. That person is Rachelle. Thanks for supplying me with ideas and assisting me along my path back towards creative writing.

I would also like to thank those who have been avid readers of my blog and contributed towards it in the fashion of comments and likes. If I had a quarter for every comment you have left me I would be able to retire…In like, never. You see, $37.50 worth of comments over a six month span is pitiful. That’s alright, you guys are still a-okay in my book. I say that, but I am now observing you lot of commenter’s and expect improvements. The material I produce is gold fools. Wait, no, it is fool’s gold.  Forget it, let me just begin the thanking.

Thanks to:

Brother Jon  – A Mormon with a great sense of humor. Not that Mormon’s aren’t usually funny; I just needed an opening line. He has been a consistent supporter of my blog for the longest. His blog is equally entertaining and varies on subject matter.

RandomDeviations – She has been MIA for the past month and a half, but I will still give her a shout-out. Maybe she will return to the blogging scene, who knows.

Mooselicker – An awkward cat with outside ideas. I like it. He is not afraid to get smacked upside of the head in a game of playground foursquare because it lets him think outside the box. A solid contributor and reader of my blog.

xoEvelynOrtizHasSpoken – She is my number one commenter to this point. Thanks for reading and seeing the genius I see in me as well. Ha.

NyParrot – A relatively new follower, she is quickly moving up my commenter ranks and has interesting takes of her own.

Those listed above are my top commenter’s. If you do not see yourself on the list, know that you are not, but I hope for you to be soon and I still thank you for taking ten minutes of your time to better yourself by reading my material.

Uh-oh, there goes the music. I think it is time for me to wrap this up.

And what better way to wrap something up, than with a rap. Here is my attempt at rapping with my original content. Now you’ll know why I just write.

In With the Old; Out With the New.

Writing a blog everyday is easy. Trying to fill it with worthwhile content is a daunting task. It is an unneeded stress in my life, but a wanted one. It challenges my mental capacity by encouraging me to make note of my daily activities and convert them into the written word. Unfortunately, I am not always in that constant mindset and I forgot to remember what is commonly forgotten. In other words, I have no material for today. I should correct that. I have no new material for today. Instead I have little phrases I have made up over the past year and a few old ideas that I have refurbished. Without further ado, I present my phrases and ideas.

1) Girls with large breasts always complain about back problems. Does this mean that people who have back boobs complain about chest problems? I’m just curious. They say curiosity killed the cat, but I am not sure how that relates to us homo sapiens. Is it my fault the cat could not live up the stature of Curious George? It is weird, because I feel like the saying is trying to prevent us from being curious. It is almost as if it Taoism is seeking to reestablish itself in a modern day form. I say kill a cat, kill a kitten. Do what you have to do. Be curious.

2) I have been craving ice cream as of late. Ice cream is a delectable dish, but that is also the precise reason why it bothers me so. I hate dishes and the act of doing them. To liberate myself from the washing of dishes, I now eat ice cream from my belly button. The serving size is small, but you have not lived until you have tried Lint and Chip. Delicious.

3) The animal kingdom is full of unique animals. I have always been fascinated with the cheetah. They are the fastest land mammal and can travel upwards to seventy-five miles per hour. That is fast. I draw comparisons between the cheetah and a car. Imagine going seventy-five miles per hour in a car and hitting a tree. Did your imagination blank out? It should have, because you would be dead. Now, lets examine a cheetah running at seventy-five miles per hour speeds and taking a dive. Ouchie. If I had the ability to run up to seventy-five miles per hour, I would not. That seems highly dangerous. I caution cheetahs to do the same. I get it, you’re hungry, but slow down cheetah. Here, have a Cheeto.

That is all. I approbate this message.