Honky Tonk Badonkadonk

It is safe to say I like to get my groove on. And I am open to a variety of musical beats. A little blues, a little classic rock, a little dance. And I am not afraid to get my country on now and then.

Back in the day, I may have spent some nights here and there at the biggest country bar in the SE so I could

shake my honkytonkbadonkadonk

wear skin tight jeans, halter top, and cowboy hat

dance on top of speakers

behave like a lady.

I had a friend that was a bouncer there...and well, that just makes it all the better.

And since I love to dance, some of those two-steppers can literally, sweep you off your feet.
Oh, those dancers, bring it here to JennyMac.

And on occasion what goes hand in hand with country bars is a whole lotta' drinking going on. Typically, I don't do anything to impede my moves, but here is what happens sometimes when you do shots at a country bar.

After kicking up my heels with glee, someone says we should ride the bull. Of course there is a mechanical bull in this harem of harlots.

Hmmmm. Doesn't that sound like a great idea? Of course it does, and bring us one more round.

Not savvy with the electronic rodeo stylings, I carefully observe those who dare go before me. The Bullmaster who is driving the speed of this thing is a mean old S.O.B. And the parade of clowns being dropped on their honky tonk badonkadonks left, right, and center made me both giggle and fearful.

Bullmaster was a bit nicer to the girls but I saw some gals do a faceplant, and its not pretty. And, oh, wouldn't you know it, a gratuitous breast popping out during certain face plants as well. I think the Bullmaster sought his targets carefully. Don't let the surprise show on your face.

So when my turn comes along, my most serious vow is not to get thrown off. So I grip in, and the Bullmaster is now saying gentlemanly things onto his microphone like "HOW FAST AND HARD DO YOU WANT IT". Altar boys need not apply for the Bullmaster job. As he speeds up, I shout SLOWER. He complies. SLOWER. He complies. And then he asks me to spank the Bull.

So, I comply if only to win his good graces and placate him enough that he refrains from kicking it up a notch thereby flinging my body to the filthy mats below. And after a short bit, my turn was over. And I managed to stay on that bucking bronco. I thought, WOW. I ROCKED THAT BULL. Step aside, whilst I fetch my BAD ASS belt buckle to wear the remainder of the night.

And then I saw a girl ride that bull with her feet up on the horns. I said, "Oh, I want to do that." Yes, alcohol + alcohol = great aspirations.

Now boarding first class! Oh, JennyMac, please feel free to stay seated in the terminal.

And then the strippers came. And quite a number of them. They also got on the bull. I think they did quite a bit more than spanking. They were wearing bikinis. And they were climbing on that thing like it was Dirk Diggler. WHEW, glad I was in the front of that line.

Later, I see Bullmaster at the bar. He asks if I am going to get back on the bull. Ummm, if you dip it in hydrochloric acid first.

He laughed. And said, "You'll be back."

And I thought I might. Until I saw the pictures my friends took. Here I thought I was quite a sultry little bullriding novice. I thought the pics would have captured my sassy flair and gleaming eye.

This is actually quite comparable to the actual look on my face in the photos.


There was no sultry flair. No gleaming eye. Just a date with the doctor since the photos captured a girl seriously about to lose her shat.

That's what I get for being sassy.

I went into semi-retirement of bull riding after that night.