I Want to Be a Veterinarian
I want to be a veterinarian.
I want to be a veterinarian specializing in large animals.
I want to be a vet specializing in large animals, with an emphasis on equines.
I want to be an equine vet who specializes in reproduction.
I want to be an equine vet specializing in the comprehensive service of assisted equine reproduction, specifically artificial insemination as a viable alternative to natural breeding.
Why do I want this?
I want to do this because the longer I am married to The Bean, the more it becomes apparent that I have married someone who enjoys the finer things in life. I have married someone who likes nice suits and black tie affairs. He likes expensive liquor, and fine cigars, and formal business transactions. I have married someone who enjoys the smooth sound of a 7 series BMW, who likes the idea of getting into local politics, who enjoys expensive dinners where the meat is served with sides of nearly unpronounceable french-sounding sauces.
I have married a classy man.
I want to be an equine vet who specializes in AI, because one day The Bean will let down his guard and bring home some equally classy business associates.
Knowing how important this meeting is to him, I will have taken a day off of work and spent all day preparing. The house will be perfect, as will I. The Bean will usher them in to the front door (which might even be a foyer at that point), and I will glide forward to meet them. I will be by his side, well-dressed in an elegant black dress, features accentuated with tastefully applied makeup, hair pulled back in a smooth chignon. I will murmur all the right things in a quiet tone, welcoming them to our home, taking them past the elegant wall hangings and gleaming wood floors as we go down the hallway.
Together we will enter the dining room.
"Oh!" I'll say as we enter the room, raising a well-manicured, horrified hand to cover my mouth in astonished embarrassment. "Oh, heavens!"
I will rush forward, my heels making a smooth clicking sound against the floor as I gather the large cylinder from the corner of the table.
"I do apologize. Please forgive me, I really thought I had put away earlier. This is so embarrassing. "
I'll hug the object in my arms and give a self-deprecating laugh. "Murphy's law, right? Don't you just hate it when you accidentally leave a giant artificial horse vagina out on the table when company comes over? I am so sorry."
I'll stride to the doorway, dress rustling against my legs as I sweep past them with my arms wrapped around the smooth cylinder. As I pass by them, I'll collect myself and turn, completely poised. "Please forgive me gentlemen. I am neglecting my hostess duties. After I put this away back in the closet I'd be happy to bring you some wine. Red or white?"
I want to be a veterinarian specializing in large animals.
I want to be a vet specializing in large animals, with an emphasis on equines.
I want to be an equine vet who specializes in reproduction.
I want to be an equine vet specializing in the comprehensive service of assisted equine reproduction, specifically artificial insemination as a viable alternative to natural breeding.
Why do I want this?
I want to do this because the longer I am married to The Bean, the more it becomes apparent that I have married someone who enjoys the finer things in life. I have married someone who likes nice suits and black tie affairs. He likes expensive liquor, and fine cigars, and formal business transactions. I have married someone who enjoys the smooth sound of a 7 series BMW, who likes the idea of getting into local politics, who enjoys expensive dinners where the meat is served with sides of nearly unpronounceable french-sounding sauces.
I have married a classy man.
I want to be an equine vet who specializes in AI, because one day The Bean will let down his guard and bring home some equally classy business associates.
Knowing how important this meeting is to him, I will have taken a day off of work and spent all day preparing. The house will be perfect, as will I. The Bean will usher them in to the front door (which might even be a foyer at that point), and I will glide forward to meet them. I will be by his side, well-dressed in an elegant black dress, features accentuated with tastefully applied makeup, hair pulled back in a smooth chignon. I will murmur all the right things in a quiet tone, welcoming them to our home, taking them past the elegant wall hangings and gleaming wood floors as we go down the hallway.
Together we will enter the dining room.
"Oh!" I'll say as we enter the room, raising a well-manicured, horrified hand to cover my mouth in astonished embarrassment. "Oh, heavens!"
I will rush forward, my heels making a smooth clicking sound against the floor as I gather the large cylinder from the corner of the table.
"I do apologize. Please forgive me, I really thought I had put away earlier. This is so embarrassing. "
I'll hug the object in my arms and give a self-deprecating laugh. "Murphy's law, right? Don't you just hate it when you accidentally leave a giant artificial horse vagina out on the table when company comes over? I am so sorry."
I'll stride to the doorway, dress rustling against my legs as I sweep past them with my arms wrapped around the smooth cylinder. As I pass by them, I'll collect myself and turn, completely poised. "Please forgive me gentlemen. I am neglecting my hostess duties. After I put this away back in the closet I'd be happy to bring you some wine. Red or white?"
Labels: Married Life
posted by Becky at
3:55 PM
9 Comments:
When I worked in the breeding industry I once found myself in the sandwich line, on the phone with my boss. The woman in front of me was mortified when I said, and I quote, "Yes, her vulva is getting quite loose."
I also got pulled over with a box of semen in my car and had to explain.
AND I went to class once, forgetting about the placenta stains on my shirt (they were HOURS old by then!) When I finally realized why everyone was giving me horrified looks, I shrugged nonchalantly and said, "He finally pissed me off past my breaking point. I took care of it."
You know, one doesn't HAVE to be a vet to have worked with horse "baby batter". Save yourself the student loans.
My first time depressing the plunger, I was admonished: Are you trying to make a western pleasure horse? Just shoot it in there! We want eventers!
And trust me, when you spend many weeks collecting one or two stallions every other day, you come up with some really STRANGE product ideas. Most of them centered around how to make the AV more lifelike for the stallion (so he'll hurry the hell up, and get it on "first go").
You absolutely kill me.
Ha, ha, ha, ha!!! So funny... I can just picture it.
About 7 years ago I shared an office with two men. I had my mare at the vets office to be AI'd and I was speaking to him over the phone in my office about the quality of the sample we had received from the stallion barn, the difficulties with an older mare, and one term specifically kept coming up that was causing my associates to squirm, "urine pooling".
I still hear about it to this day.
Yeah you don't need to be a vet, we often have meals out where we talk about semen viability, import/export rules, cooled vs frozen. And what turns the studs on... do they like the mares that squirt, or the ones that squeal.
This is the world's greatest mental image.
LOL! I really needed that after my evening. You know, you will be nearish OSU...
I really needed this today.
PS. Can I be the babysitter lurking in the hallway with a camera to catch the expression on Joe's face?
We have a couple of family friends who used to have a small "breeding station" for horses, they stood several stallions. The female half of the couple was not a horse person by nature, she was always well dressed, and clean, every hair on her head was perfect, her makeup was perfect, she never had dirt or gunk under her nails.
One day, after her husband's assistant had gone for the day, he decided it was time to breed a difficult mare. He had his wife come out to the shed and told her to hold the mare still while he handled the stallion. Everything was going well and the stallion was almost finished when the mare decided to leave, and the wife ended up with semen all over her perfect face and hair. Of course her husband loved to tell the story at dinner parties , Thanksgiving dinner....whatever.
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