Bull.

Stupid mechanical bull. Moreover, stupid short arms. That's right, my burgeoning career as a professional mechanical bull rider met a tragic early demise thanks to the two pathetic penguinesque appendages I call my arms.

Last Saturday night my carpetbagger roommate Jason, dear pal Betty Cash and I loaded into the Volvo and hied ourselves to beautiful if miniscule Coupland, Texas, to ride the only permanently installed mechanical bull in central Texas.

Coupland, Texas, is home to the appropriately titled Coupland Dancehall, owned and operated by Larry Kelso, a man of considerable character and facial hair.

This is Larry.



You'll hear more about him later this week. Right now, it's all about the bull.

This bull.


I'm not sure what sort of bull it is (although the Jesus fish on the back might suggest it's a papal bull…get it, papal bull? HA!) but it wasn't at all a gentleman…and I got thrown. Not even thrown really, I just sort of …fell off.

I got on, I got Johnny the Mechanical Bull Operator's solemn vow to give me the "pony ride" setting and then after 11 glorious seconds of: "Hold on!" "I CAN'T hold on!" "Use your arms!" "I DON'T HAVE ANY ARMS!" I toppled over the other side like a meatball.

Next time, I'm going to bring an orangutan.