We just got back from a long trip to Southern Ontario to visit our parents, and it was tiring but overall pretty good. The first Friday we were there, however, we had a really surreal experience at my mom’s house. It seems she and my older sister have become addicted to PBR — Professional Bull Riding. Every Friday they excitedly tune in to see their favourite riders (they know all their stats and history) and their favourite bulls (they know them all by sight and name and reputation) compete to see who can be the victor in just 8 seconds of time.

At first and I thought maybe they were joking, but they’re deadly serious. And so we watched PBR. We couldn’t decide if it was a serious sport, a scary event, or a source of hilarity — maybe a combination of all three. I’ve decided my favourite bull is Spinner Bait — good name. My mom’s favourite bull is Slick Willy, because a few weeks ago she had trouble reading his all-block-letter name on the TV screen and thought it was “Suck Willy,” and now every time he comes out to do battle she declares that “Suck Willy” is in the house. My sister likes Little Yellow Jacket, who is apparently the son of Little Red Jacket, one of the meanest bulls around.

They agree that the best rider is some guy named Rick who is from Canada, who sadly didn’t do well because he dislocated his shoulder at last week’s meet. Their backup for cheering is a set of twins who both ride, who have some sort of weirdly incongruent names like Ashley and Benton, that sound like they should be attending the opera or a wine tasting, instead of lashing up a bull’s testicles and going for a ride. Actually, I’m not too clear on the testicle thing, since my mom helpfully pointed out that some of the bulls (whom, by the way, she thinks are really cute) have clearly been castrated. I guess in that case, they’re just really mad all the time anyway, and don’t need any extra incentive.

Sir Monkeypants’ favourite part of the evening came when my mom said that she couldn’t believe “how much that bull is buckin’ that man” which led to lots of silly giggling on our parts — hee hee, she said “buckin’.”

I guess it’s not a bad way to spend a Friday night.