Category Archives: goats

Look at that dog!

Standard

Last night was my small town’s annual Halloween parade. We go every year – local businesses open up to trick or treaters, and afterward there is a parade through town with firetrucks & marching bands and social clubs throwing candy to spectators. It’s something I have been doing since I was a kid, and it;s always fun. This year however, there was an added bonus.

In addition to the previously mentioned groups, individuals can walk in the parade and show off their costumes. you will see a lot of regular, store-bought costumes, along with some really creative ones. This year, the best I saw was a kid dressed as a Lego man. I don’t have a photo, because I was so mesmerized by how perfect it was that I forgot I had a camera.

One staple of these parades is dogs in costumes. You will see dogs dressed as Steelers, dogs as bumblebees, dogs as princesses. One year, there was a tiny Cinderella in a carriage being pulled by dogs. This year, there was a Cruella de Vil with a bunch of dalmatians. And being the dog lovers that we are, if you sit anywhere near us, you will hear repeated, excited cries of, “Look at that dog!”

Toward the end of this year’s parade, I saw a cute dog heading our way in a tutu and fairy wings. I pointed it out to the girl & her friend, knowing they would love it. But then it got a little closer and I noticed that Wait! That’s not a dog! And those of you that know me will understand how much it pleased me to see what it really was:

Yes, my friends – that is a goat. A Tutu Fairy Goat. The only thing that would have made it better for me would have been if it had fainted from my camera flash. Best goat ever.

And as a bonus, her’s my little Flamenco dancer:

And my insane son:

(he almost didn’t wear it bevcause it was supposed to rain and apparenty wearing one of those in the rain can cause drowning. Or something)

At Least I’m Not Talking About Shitting My Pants

Standard

OK, so I have a new Life’s Plan. I want to be a carny. Not one of those toothless, freaky carnies with their shyster games and dangerous rides. I want to be the kind that goes around to festivals and stuff with bouncy houses and petting zoos. I’m not doing it for the kids, though. Nope – I am planning on an adult attraction. With goats. Fainting Goats.

It has recently come to my attention that not enough people know about the fainting goats. I mentioned it to a couple people on Saturday and they had no idea what I was talking about. I was shocked! everyone should know about fainting goats, and I decided that there is clearly a huge empty hole in this country in the awesome animal knowledge area. So, I tested my theory and spent the weekend saying “fainting goat” to random people and no one knew what I was talking about.

I’m gonna be rich.

For those of you who don’t know about the fainting goats, they are goats that faint when you scare them. You chase them and throw your arms out and then they stiffen up and fall over, feet in the air. And then you laugh and laugh. Then a couple seconds later they get up and you do it again. Dude. Awesome!! Here’s the plan (but lets keep it to ourselves because I don’t want anyone stealing my idea): while the kids are bouncing in the houses and petting the stupid non-fainting goats, the adults will be chasing my super awesome goats.

And I don’t want to hear anything about cruelty to goats, either. The goats love it. Just like people like to be scared. We watch horror movies and go to haunted houses and that stuff is scary, right? Well, this is the goat version of toasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories around the campfire. But goats don’t know fuck all about toasting marshmallows and they can’t build campfires. Except maybe those evil goats – the minions of Satan ones. They might be able to start fires, I don’t know. But even if they can, a) fire-starting minion goats are not the kinds of goats I want in Gina’s Goat World, because I could totally not afford the insurance on that, and b) fire-starting minion goats have no time for fainting games, what with being so busy with al the soul-devouring and hand-basket distribution (dear goats, just leave mine by the door).

So since the non-minion goats can’t start fires, this is their version of scary stories. Someone chases them, they faint, then they get up and look at their goat friends all, “Duuuuuuude, good one!”

So I’m gonna get me a herd of fainting goats. Hey – what is a group of goats called? Herd? Pack? I don’t know and I’m too lazy to look it up, so I’m going to go with Nipple. A Nipple of Goats.

Anyway, once I get my Nipple of Non-Minion, Fainting Goats, I’m going to get really skinny. Because hello – if you have fainting goats in the back yard, I dare you not to chase them all day long. So I’ll chase them all day and night and then I’ll get really skinny because chasing goats for hours on end is WAY mre exercise than I have gotten in years, so it will just be a matter of time before I’ll be a skinny, malnourished-looking carny and not a big fat carny, and then I’ll be putting my big plan into action.

I’ll have a goat-chasing attraction that shows up at all the classiest redneck affairs. Someone suggested I set up next to the greased pigs, but I don’t know about that – I don’t want to get greasy swine flu on my lovely non-minion, fainting goats. Besides people who chase greased pigs are a whole different breed of people than non-minion fainting goat chasers – did I not just say “classiest redneck affairs?” Duh. Anyway, people will come from far and wide to chase my goats (ooo – that would make a good euphemism: “chase my goats, bitches!”), and I will hire my new BFFs who have now embraced the non-minion fainting goat craze wholeheartedly (you know who you are) and we will serve beer and sandwiches (greased pig sandwiches, obviously), and make tons of money and live happily ever after the end.