So, this blog hasn’t even been up and running for two weeks, and I’m already not managing to stick to my goal (philosophy?) of writing at least one post a week. Oops. Clearly not off to a very good start.
It’s just that I’ve got so much going on at the moment – new city and all. Plus there’s the fact that after being expected to churn out fresh, original ideas and copy for eight hours a day, five days a week (sometimes more), I can’t say that the idea of sitting down in front of my computer when I get home and starting to hammer away on the keyboard really fills me with much excitement or enthusiasm. Plus, did I mention the fact that I’m pretty good at procrastinating?
Alas, I digress. The purpose of tonight’s post is to present the elusive “Rock ‘n Roll Cowboy” to you. Yes, I mentioned him in my last (and only) post, so I’m sure it at least piqued your curiosity. It didn’t? Oh, okay. Well, just go along with it…
So, ever since I was a little girl – I think around seven or eight years old – I’ve had a bit of a penchant for men with ponytails, in stonewashed jeans. I think this may have something to with a certain mullet-sporting Tennessean and his “Achy Breaky Heart”. Yes, you read correctly.
Yessss. Look at that attitude; that confidence; that sex appeal.
I don’t really remember how or why it happened; I just remember my stubby little fingers excitedly tearing away at the wrapping paper separating me from my BRC (that’s Billy Ray Cyrus to you). You see, after doing some pre-birthday snooping, I had discovered that my mom had bought me the Billy Ray Cyrus cassette (yep, I’m an 80s baby) for my birthday. Hells Yes!
And so the seed was planted.
Next up on the list was one Nick Slaughter. Tropical Heat anyone?
Yessss. Look at that....chest hair.
And then, another brunette…
Yessss. Look at that...sword. And the kaftan-smock. Mmmm...
“I am Duncan MacLeod, born four hundred years ago in the Highlands of Scotland. I am immortal and I am not alone. For centuries we have waited for the time of The Gathering, when the stroke of a sword and the fall of a head will release the power of The Quickening. In the end, there can be only one.”
It was then back to the blondes for a while…
Yessss. Look at that horse; that silky mane blowing in the wind... (Erm, I'm referring to Sully's, of course)
And, while I am aware that Sully was more Native American than cowboy, for the purposes of this post, that teeny detail will be overlooked.
So where does that leave me?
Well, seventeen years later, I somehow still seem to find myself drawn to members of the opposite sex who happen to sport ponytails (or longish hair at least), and pull off a pair of (preferably bleached and slightly ripped) jeans that would make a Calvin Klein model green with envy. Okay, okay – maybe I’m being slightly dramatic here, but all I’m saying, is that some things stick – and it seems this is a case in point.
Sure, the style of the jeans might’ve changed, and I admit that I did go through a phase when I felt myself drawn to U.S. Navy SEALs with bulging biceps and neatly clipped crew cuts (I blame JAG), but somehow I always seem to find my way back to Rock ‘n Roll Cowboy territory. And what a good territory that is.
So, with that, I leave you with two prime specimens of modern day cowboys who, literally, rock my world.
Sergio Pizzorno, surely one of the most beautiful men to have ever walked the planet. Sigh.
And then, for some visual and audio stimulation, a music video. Yay! Introducing the smokin’ hot (Tennessean again) Jaren Johnston, lead singer of American Bang.
Enjoy – I know I will.