30 for 30 on the 30th Part 4

Counting down until my 30th birthday on June 30th with a 30 part series of random things some writer somewhere decided were important tests of my manhood.

Today's items:

Thing I should have: At least four good pairs of shoes: dressy, business casual, casual, exercise.

Dressy, Biz casual, Casual, Exercise

The sad thing about my shoes is that they accurately describe my entire wardrobe: dress clothes, clothes that aren't dressy but I pretend that they are, a bunch of gray casual shirts, and a bunch of older gray casual shirts I use for anything that takes physical activity (for the record the last 2 pairs of Chucks are actually from two different pairs).



Thing I should do: Ride a horse.

In 5th grade my class went on a trip to Camp High Hope.  At camp we did all the usual campy things, highlighted by the fact that this was the first time all the boys had to shower in a public shower together.  It being 5th grade, this was really one of our first pubic showers, as well.  Gross.

One of the activities at camp was to brush and ride a horse.  The camp guide led me to the steed, handed me a brush and told me to start using it.  No problem.  I've brushed things.  It's not that hard.

WHAM!

That fucker kicked me.  Right in the thigh next to the parts I had exposed to my friends in the shower for the first time earlier that day.  A horse kicking you hurts exactly as much as you would think.  Like hell.  

But it was camp and it was about learning lessons.  They stood me up, made sure my reproductive parts were still attached and marched me back up to that horse.  Brush in hand, I reached out to begin brushing again...

WHAM!

This time it was an attempted head shot that I narrowly ducked and took in the shoulder.  I literally had a hoof-print bruise on my shoulder for two weeks.  It looked like I got the Colts' log tattooed on my back.  It was awful.  I was a 5th grader getting my ass beat by a goddamn horse in front of my entire class.  You think bullies and wedgies are bad?  Imagine if a horse was the one shoving you in a locker.  With his legs.  By kicking you.  Maybe this visual didn't work like I expected.

Anyways, the camp counselors again made me approach the horse and eventually ride him.  So I have ridden a stupid horse. I hope you're happy now, stupid list of things I need to do to impress you.