SAVE A HORSE AND RIDE A COWBOY - COUNTRY MUSIC HAS A NEW CONVERT.

ONCE IN A WHILE, I WILL KEEP MY POSTS LIGHTHEARTED AND NOT DISCUSS FEMALE ISSUES. IN THIS ECONOMIC CLIMATE, WE CAN ALL USE A LITTLE LEVITY IN OUR LIFE. INSPIRED BY A COUNTRY SONG TITLE, I DESCRIBE MY WEEKEND USING THE TITLE OF SONGS.
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While destined for a night of debauchery with my girls, I attempt to convert my crew of die-hard Hip-Hop/R&B heads to country music by telling them about a song titled "SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY."

When they return quizzical stares, I begin to gyrate like I am riding a cowboy with an imaginary lasso in my hand to illustrate the innuendo of the song title. When the light bulb finally turns on in their brains, they laugh in unison uproariously.

My girl Liz blurts out "she will ride a peacock.. it's been so long."(Poor Birdie - No Pun Intended!!) I respond it's been so long for me "my coochie is like a crypt, you might find cobwebs with spiders crawling out that MOFO." Slouching my back and peering down at my punani, I pat it with the palm of my hand and ask "baby girl you still alive, you alright down there."

Getting my lean on and cruising the streets of NYC with my girls on the way to the club, we hang out the car window, taunting men by bellowing in a mock country accent "SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY."

IN DA CLUB, prancing like we own the piece, because SHAWTY IS DA SHIT. Lookin' mean, sporting a mini-dress with peep-toe STILETTOES, MY SWAGGA' KINDA GHETTO, I am ROCKIN' THAT SHIT. In fact, my entire crew is STYLIN'. We survey the scene, looking for BIG THINGS POPPIN'. We are just some I.N.D.E.P.E.N.D.E.N.T. AROUND THE WAY GIRLS living the GLAMOROUS and SINGLE LIFE. I peep only a few SCRUBS, looking like life is an EVERYDAY STRUGGLE, and I intend to keep "to the left, to the left" as far as I can of these fellows. I AIN'T SAYING I AM A GOLD DIGGA, BUT I AIN'T MESSING WITH NO BROKE NIGGA.

We find a crew BALLIN' and ready to POP DEM BOTTLES, so we FOLLOW THEIR LEAD and sit down.

I want to DROP IT LIKE IT'S HOT, so I go and DIP IT LOW, like Christina Milian, causing men to scurry to the dance floor, even one chic. I tell her I KISSED A GIRL AND I "DIDN'T" LIKE IT.

This guy steps to me and say EXCUSE ME MISS. I tell him my name, he says his name is CHARLIE, LAST NAME WILSON. When the DJ PLAYS A LOVE SONG, he begins to grind on my body. Even though it FEELS SO GOOD, like Remy Ma say, I push him off and I say I'm not tryin' to MAKE LOVE IN THIS CLUB, and he replies I don't see nothing wrong with a little BUMP AND GRIND.

I suggestively stare at the BARTENDER, getting the hint, he asks can I BUY YOU A DRINK. After I get my drink on, I walk off, leaving him CHOPPED AND SCREWED. I bet he said CAN'T BELIEVE IT like the T-Pain track the DJ was spinning.

Gazing at the dance floor, I see SISTA BIG BONES putting a hurting on this scrawny brother, and he looks like he AIN'T GONNA BUMP NO MORE WITH NO BIG FAT WOMAN.....DAMN SHE DID A DIP AND ALMOST BROKE HIS HIP!!!!

Next to SISTA BIG BONES, my girl is on the dance floor, looking like she is going HALF ON A BABY with some dude.

Shortly after my friend's SENSUAL SEDUCTION on the dance floor, she tells me it's GETTING LATE like Floetry and she GOTTA GET HIM HOME WITH HER TONIGHT. Whispering in my ear, she needs some SEXUAL HEALING and wants to be a NAUGHTY GIRL like Beyonce. I know she damn sure going to SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY tonight.

Normally, my friend is not a PROMISCUOUS GIRL, but sometimes that BODY IS CALLIN' and I WONDER IF I TAKE YOU HOME ...... is the last thing on your mind when MY NECK, MY BACK, MY......needs to be tapped.

The next morning, the ringing of the phone awakes me from a very sweet dream. Groggily, I answer "hello" and my girl yells through the receiver "LAST NIGHT I SAVED A PONY, RODE A COWBOY, damn sure didn't sing a FALSETTO and definitely didn't SWEAT IT OUT, SWEAT IT OUT, SWEAT IT OUT."

After I hang up the phone, I go back to the stallion in my dreams and start to TOUCH MY BODY. In terms of pleasure, sometimes you have to CATER TO YOU with ME, MYSELF AND I.