My Cowboy Weekend, Part 2

What I wore: My cowboy boots, my cowboy hat, itty-bitty cut-off jean shorts, a red checkered shirt that I tied at my chest, and red briefs because the shorts were really short (no need to give it all away, or shock the womenfolk).

Yep, sluttiest cowboy in the back forty, that’s me. Howdy, y’all!

Seriously, though, Jazz wore his new black leather pants minus the side panels so you could see his bare legs from the top of his black boots to his hips and he has VERY nice legs. Plus he had on a brand new cowboy hat and a black leather vest. That’s it! I had to look equally molestable so we’d match. Obviously.

So we leave the house a little late and all aglow with satisfaction, heading over to Mr. Just a Quiet Weekend’s home for the not-a-party that didn’t have anything to do with cowboys or rodeos, wrapped gifts — with bows! — in our hands so he’d let us in.

Holy cannolis, there were cowboys everywhere!

I mean, by now, after a week’s worth of “What are you people up to?”, I knew most of what they’d said to me was utter crap and that there WAS a party planned for at least one day this weekend and it WOULD have something to do with cowboys.

I just didn’t expect to find a ranch worth’s of men in cowboy duds — and a tiny pony! — in Alec and Carter’s backyard. My face was like this for like an hour. Seriously. Just and maybe a little drool since someone obviously told them all to play up the sexy and see if you can keep the little blond blushing continuously.

Mission. Accomplished.

{ahem} There were a few cowgirls at this hoedown, so we cowboys were on our best behavior. I’m so kidding. Even the straight boys were getting a little bent for the attention it got them. Wiggle those Wranglers! {smack} Take off that shirt! {whistle} Whoa, nelly! Hands off the cowboy bear because those pecs are not party favors! {growl} I had to protect Jazz for a little while, but he liked that.

Most importantly, though, was the guest of honor. No, I don’t mean the birthday boy as Alec was busy fondling his gifts on the patio like a sultan surrounded by harem boys. I mean the pony I’m going to call Harry to protect some privacy. He was sort of grayish-brown with a whitish-gray mane and tail who enjoyed gentle rubs on his velvety nose. I spent a lot of time visiting with Harry. We bonded, being the cutest creatures in attendance, of course. We ate baby carrots together. He likes root beer too.

Then came the games portion of the event. What games do cowboys play at birthday parties?

To be continued…

My Cowboy Weekend, Part 1

First, some background:

Before The Plague Of Early July reduced so many of us to helpless snotballs of weakness unable to report to our jobs, Jazz, me, Alec and Carter had planned on attending a gay rodeo up in Michigan this past weekend.

Acres of gay cowboys, people!

{ahem} So I was rather excited.

Unfortunately, missing a week or two of work after the 4th of July holiday put Papa Bear’s business really behind. Current jobs were either near to or already overdue, and new jobs were delayed. So everyone was called in to help whenever they could give some time. Being declared a danger to society with any and all power tools — how was I supposed to know nail guns have such touchy triggers and can actually send a nail across the room and into the wall if someone doesn’t tell me that? — I spent a lot of time sanding or painting or taking out the trash.

Everybody’s been exhausted for weeks, but we’re pretty much caught up and those not usually working for Papa Bear have been released back into their natural habitats. However, money for some of us was a little too tight to take a vacation right now.

No more gay rodeo.

Part of what made the rodeo so perfect was that it fell on the same weekend as Alec’s birthday. We do birthdays big around these here parts, so I know I was looking forward to making Alec’s first one with us all just amazingly huge. But now there was no rodeo so what would we do for Alec’s birthday?

For starters, ask Alec what he wants to do.

“Just spend a nice, quiet weekend at home with Carter. Maybe catch a movie or something.”

Oh.

He did make a point of telling us that didn’t mean no gifts. “Bring gifts. I know where you live. I want gifts. With wrapping paper AND bows.” Now be gone, peasant, so I may enjoy the rest of my manicure in peace. (He didn’t say that, but you get the picture.) {bows low and backs away}

So now there’s no rodeo and no party. {sigh}

Except… People are whispering… I caught someone polishing his sexy black cowboy boots… And then someone who doesn’t even live in this COUNTRY knows something’s happening this weekend.

Something with cowboys.

So no rodeo, but maybe LOCAL gay cowboys? A surprise party? Wait. Who plans their own surprise party? And why can’t someone attending (me) know what’s going on? It’s not MY birthday, so why is it MY surprise?

What are you ebil mens up to?

And what should I wear?

To be continued…