Gal's Got Balls; or Pioneer Woman Wins

by cowboylands

Pioneer Woman is the reason I can’t lie when people ask if I am a real cowboy. I say no. There’s no getting around it.

  • I don’t live in the middle of nowhere (although there actually is plenty of alone time in NYC).
  • I can’t cut off calf nuts.
  • I don’t even eat calf nuts.
  • I don’t ride a horse anymore, not since a certain moment when my life flashed before my eyes and I hit the ground with the thought “I DO NOT HAVE TO RIDE WHAT PEOPLE TELL ME TO RIDE.”

I am a sorry-ass cowboy, but that’s okay, because the West is a big place, and there is plenty of room for fauxcowpokes like me. (Um, right, Ms. PW ma’am?)

On one LOL post, Pioneer Woman shows the sweetest-looking calf ever, as white as virgin snow. She has to show the awesomely gorgeous face of this animal, because just a click away are photos of a poor cow’s prolapsed uterus, as red as…well, blood.

It’s grisly, but, hey, that’s what happens when you have a herd of cattle. You do what you have to do, even if it entails stuffing a bovine’s reproductive organ back into place (a procedure that appeared to be successful). Kinda sorta wish I had the reproductive organs to be that good of a field vet.

It’s the beauty and the balls of the American West that I makes me visit every year, half eager to test my mettle, half scared to death I’ll never measure up. Of course, we never really measure up to such an awe-inspiring place, but Pioneer Woman and her family come close. Check out their shenanigans here.

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