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The Petting Zoo for Broken Hearts

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This post isn't really about horses. There comes a time in every reject's life when a well-intentioned someone tells them it's time to get back on the proverbial horse. And that makes a lot of sense. Unless you're terrified of horses. Maybe once upon a time one kicked you. Or your very own Mr. Ed told you he couldn't bear the idea of spending time with you, that you bothered him. That you just didn't understand the rules and, mymymy, aren't you silly? Maybe the horse you had invested your blood, sweat and tears in decided he wanted to try his luck with a mare half his age. Maybe he just threw you off and left you in the dust, a little sore and a lot worse for wear. Maybe you have some good reasons for being skittish. You're not the only one, either. There's an entire world full of people hiding in their houses to avoid the mere idea of even making equine eye contact. Enter the Petting Zoo for Broken Hearts — a safe place wher

Sugar We're Goin' Down

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Or  "I'm just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a [blog]" Once upon a time, there was a youngish-but-not-too-young girl who was oddly comfortable in her skin for the first time in years. That skin was more plentiful than most peoples', and filled out quite a bit from the bad luck of her genetic code and a predisposition to love cookies more than the average Jane. But mostly she was fine with that. She was good at her work, worked hard at being good and never thought much about if she was too much like everyone else. She was a near-sighted, neurotic nerd. She was a voracious reader and movie lover. She was herself and it seemed to be working for her. She was doing OK. Then she met someone and he wasn't a bad dude really. Just sort of odd. But he liked to compare her to his previous lady friends. And for the first time she felt like everything she did needed to support the thesis that she was not like every other female he'd

There's a Penny on the Floor

Or, I Fondly Recall One Night When I Was 17 and Awesome (For my high school physics teacher. Sorry I got a 94 on that test. No, there was no problem at home. I was just having a moment.) I am thinking about moments. I am thinking about one specific moment. Maybe it's the weather. The time of year. The event I just saw advertised that's celebrating the 20-year anniversary of an album I bought when I was a senior in high school. But I have moments on my mind. This moment isn't about the aforementioned album and its band, though. It's about another band. Same local flavor. Same collection of yinzers. Their shows today attract the same women with giant hair drinking Coors Light or wine coolers or pink cocktails. They have teenagers or college students now, kids as old as they were when they saw This Band the first time around. They make poor decisions about leather clothing. They totter to the bar on heels higher than they should probably wear these days. The young