Cowgirl Sass & Savvy

More from the boot box

 by Julie Carter

As short, funny stories fly by within hearing distance or fun responses to other stories I’ve written hit the email inbox,  I latch on to them and save them in a folder that I have named “The Boot Box.”

It is very similar to my method of keeping my personal receipts for the year right up to and through tax time. Afterwards, it’s a good excuse for a new pair of boots so you can have a boot box for the next year.

All in a name

Some interesting offerings in the “fun, odd or unusual names for businesses” came after I poked a little fun at ones I’d found driving around the country.

The “Crossroads Country Church, Purina and Evergreen Feed” offered a variety of necessities in Goldthwaite, Texas. In Belton, Texas, “Outlaw Bail Bonds, Steak and Sushi” made for a descriptive set of options for a likely customer.

Though not along the lines of multiple businesses under one name, some others that I was reminded of by readers: the “No Scum Allowed Saloon” in White Oaks, N.M., the former popular bar in Corona, N.M., called “Road to Ruin,” along with a couple Texas watering holes: the “Bloody Knuckles Bar” and the “Mud Pump Bar.”

Reported also was a butcher shop in a tiny village in England where signage offered a big photo of Elvis next to the name “Love Meat Tender.”

“Mabel Peabody's Beauty Parlor & Chainsaw Repair Night Club” showed some ingenuity in marketing as did a local plumber who had a slogan on the side of his vehicle that said, “In our business, a flush is better than a full house.”

A trash collection business offered up their best in “Satisfaction guaranteed or double your trash back.”

Why cowboys die young

One reader wrote in about his Mother, who he reported to be a “real hand” while his Dad was “a guitar picker with limited skills around livestock.”

One day the couple had penned some of their cattle among which was a two-year-old bull that warranted watching in caution while working around him. “My mother told my Dad twice to look out for him. My dad mouthed off and told my mom she was acting like some sort of paranoid dude woman.”

About that time the bull ran over the dad, hitting him from behind – one horn just missing his privates, bruised his hip and knocked him down. In the dance to do some serious harm, the bull then stepped on his hand.

“Mom beat the bull off with a post and the help of a good dog. Then she turned around and said, ‘Well rootin’-tootin’ cowboy, this dude girl is going home and you can brand them by yourself!’ ”

A young cowboy in his late teens was visiting with a friend of his, a sort of “mother” figure in his life and in his own basic way of discussing things, was telling her what he thought about girls and their makeup.

“They do all kinds of things to make themselves pretty,” he said. “But I think it just makes them look fake or like their faces are painted on.”

Stopping to catch a breath in his tirade on the ills of face paint and such, he looked at the lady and said, “You don’t spend a lot of time on that, do you,” in more of a statement than a question.

Adding insult to injury his next thought jumped into his mouth and fell out bluntly, “Do you mind not being young and beautiful anymore?”

One couldn’t help but admire his candor, even knowing that at the rate he was going, it was more than likely going to get him shot before he got much past the age of 25.

Julie can be reached for comment at jcarternm@live.com