Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

First, a refresher on "Losers Club Goes to the PBR." This is, pehaps, the most loserclubish of all loserclub histories.

Year one, Mom loses her glasses. And gets so frenzied trying to find them that she works herself into a fever. Glasses are found and she winds up spending the time between the "Meet the Riders" event and the actual bucking at a Barnes and Noble taking a "sink bath" to cool down and refresh after sweating off all of her makeup.

Year two, Mom and I are driving down to Worcester, MA from Brattleboro, VT. The weather forecast doesn't look good, but what the heck. By Greenfield, it's snowing. By the time we get on the Pike, it's icing. By the time we get to Palmer, it's whiteout conditions. To this day I still have flashbacks to being behind the wheel, unable to tell where the sky ends and the road begins.

Year three we get smart. (ha!) We rent a hotel room in Worcester so we can get up early, go to the Meet the Riders event and then spend the afternoon relaxing. Except that we get over to Meet the Riders and find out that it was held two hours earlier because the hotel double booked the ballroom. Despair ensues. But no matter, someone on the inside tells us that the cowboys come back to the hotel after the event to blow off some steam. So after the event, we too go back to the hotel. Mom meets Justin McBride, the night's winner and one of the biggest all-time champs. Mom gets so excited that she starts dry heaving in the cab.

All of this to fill you in on this year's Loser Club.

Parents and Big Bro were to be driving up to Mohegan Sun. Me and Mr. Zips were to be meeting them in CT. Much money was spent on tickets.

So I am bitter that there will be an empty seat next to me. But I did my best to put a cheerful face on it and had decided that I would use this opportunity to Git Me a Husband. After all, those boys may not be too bright and they might be *just a tad* too religious. But they sure are good lookin'. And rich. And in damn fine shape. (They buck bulls for gods' sake!)

Too bad that this is the most loserclubish of all mostloserclubbish years. Because this year, Mom and Dad are sick. Not just sniffle sick. Full on, knock-down-drag-out sick. And contagious. And so they're likely not going to make the drive up to Mohegan. And, even if they do, I'm not sure I could chance catching what they've got. Because (if I haven't mentioned) I start my new job in two weeks and I'm moving in four.

Of course, the irony is that if Mr. Zips hadn't timed things the way he did, this could have been an AWESOME weekend. An evening filled with adrenaline. A paid-for hotel room for the two of us.

Buckin A.