I am not busting no broncs

Hey there I'm Robert MacEwan the author of Ideal Absolutes. If you're new to macewan.org, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed.

My wife seems to think real men bust their asses busting broncos. Well… not me. Just because she grew up in the frontier watching rodeo clowns and steer wrestling doesn’t mean I’m getting a quarter horse and entering rodeo competitions as a hobby any time soon. But I do see her fascination with the sport. I think the term “rodeo” is all-inclusive as a sport. Shows you how much I know.

The Wrangler National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas looks like it would be more fun than imaginable. NFR Tickets would make the perfect birthday present. Premiere Rodeo! The competitors are some of the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association finest members. They’re putting their spines on the line for some big cash. I found out that the “rodeo dirt” used in the arena is special to the Finals Competition. It’s stored at UNLV and used only for the shit-kicking-big-bronc-busting thrill ride that will be the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo. The closest I guess I’ll get is my new pair of Wrangler jeans but I’d go to Vegas in a split second if I could beg, borrow, or steal a ride. Well, actually, if the purpose was to take my wife, I guess it would be prudent to buy a plane ticket. I don’t see her as hobo hitching a freight car ride material.