Who is Lizzy Hollar you ask? I’ve been described as sexy, sassy and a whole lot of country Wild! A cowgirl they call me. I work for American Cowboy Sports. I do rodeo. I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted a paycheck. Good thing I’m not on salary! The pay is only fair. Sleep is at a minimum. A Swiss Army knife is my best friend. If you are what you eat, my cowboy friends are cheap, fast and easy, just the way they like their sex. It’s the only sport I know you can BBQ your job at the end of the day…
I’ve met many a sexy cowboy on my travels, making my heart skip a bit or two. Hell, I’ve met plenty of sexy cowgirls, worthy of a head turn. Only a handful of these rodeo riders I’d call my best friends. I wouldn’t trade them for anything they’re too damn entertaining! When I break out a jug of Hillbilly Pop, there’s always one rodeo cowboy who brings on the stupid right quick. A sexy cowgirl, a hot little number, working a Hula-Hoop, has the others steppin and a fetchin. This type of behavior usually leads to rodeo sex. I hear lots of “Don’t! Stop! Don’t Stop!” “Take off the spurs dammit!” I prefer low, whisper in his ear and let him listen to my sighs: stealth.
My very close friends, they’re all different in ages, looks, personalities, intelligence and their feelings about me. They’d all like me to be “The catch of the day” but this cowgirl is on the “Catch and release program”. The older cowboys have learned the art of seduction. Once caught in their snare the sexy cowgirl can’t seem to escape. Even I enjoy my fruit ripened on the vine.
Traveling long distances alone, at times, I want to be the “Midnight special”. I hop on the Citizen’s Band Radio and see who’s floating on the airwaves. In my low, sultry and oh’ so sensual cowgirl voice, “I could use some rest stop assistance?” “Copy that Lizzy, see you in ten. I’ll put a rainbow in your jeans”. Many rodeo cowboys are excellent singles riders. I’m rarely disappointed.
Our rodeo clan, we try to travel together. When on the road the streets have no justice. The stars are pretty but it’s the CB radio that’s our compass. I’m ten-eight, ten-eighteen! Ten-four? The politically correct way to use it but mostly we make fun of the losers and decide what we want to eat since the “All Around Cowboy” of the day is footing the bill. If the gang chose steak, it’s nice to have come in second!
When I step onto the official rodeo arena, this rodeo cowgirl has no friends everyone is my competitor!
I can hear the announcer bellowing into the mic. “Welcome to the Kamiah Idaho Round-Up!” Taking a wad from my pouch of ‘Big League’ bubble-gum, putting it between my cheek and gum, attempting to keep the dust out of my big mouth, I snatch up my bull rope and bronc saddle.
“How ya’ll doing today folks! We have twenty-two cowboys competing in both singles events: saddle bronc and bull riding. And one very special cowgirl riding today, Lizzy Hollar. She’s not the dark horse, people look for her to place in the top three in bull riding. Broncs and Lizzy aren’t a good match yet. This sexy cowgirl has the legs for the event, weighing in a bit shy though. She gets the job done! Lizzy will be riding eighth in the line-up! “Luck of the draw” wasn’t with her today, she’s pulled Bo-Dandy!”
Lowering me into the bucking chute, where I know there’s a fifteen hundred pound of angry animal who’s gonna try to make me sprout wings long before my natural death. I cross the tightened bull rope over the palm of my right hand. Behind my wrist and over my right palm again. An attempt to keep my ass attached. “Coming out of bucking chute number two Lizzy Hollar!” Settling my hat firmly down on my head, “May the good lord take a liken to me just not too soon” I whisper. Yelling over the crowd “TURN EM’ OUT!” After eight seconds if I only have to dust off my boots I’ve done it right.
Dangerous dies; reckless kills. There is a fine line between the two it’s called Win!
There’s usually a dance after a rodeo which I never go. The sexy cowgirls with their tops cut down to there and their jeans so tight I swear if they sneezed they would split in two! Cowboys, wearing Silk shirts and jeans almost as tight, polished boots and their newly won buckles. Rodeo riders dress to impress. I’m partial to the men over forty. Rodeo to the bone and ooze delight. This is where the cowgirl is off duty and the woman comes out. Light me up and melt me down…
There’s no price tag on my secrets but everyone has something they wish to hide. Some of these sexy cowboys I call friends are also lumberjacks. Competing in both rodeo and lumberjacking. A different focus but just as competitive. Double the effort; double the pay! I like the idea! Maybe I’ll find me a lumberJack to teach me how to be a lumber-Jill! Hmm, maybe I already have? On a fishing trip I saw two of them on the front page of the local newspaper in Vancouver log rolling. Traditional cowboys would consider them traders to the sport of rodeo! Lumberjilling is definitely one of the irons in my fire.
My line of work is dangerous to be sure. People die all the time how many can say they got run over by their dream.
If I didn’t cowgirl, dirt would be something swept off the floor. Clean clothes every twenty-four hours? A bed, bath, three meals a day? Sounds pretty good right? I can get all this in jail! This is not part of rodeo…