I Would Make A Terrible Goat Herder
I’m a traditionalist, Bitches. Meaning that certain traditions are very important in my life. And we have a tradition over here that includes drinking wine of some sorts while eating delicious food and gabbing about all the nonsense in the world.
Yep. That’s Sunday nights at our house with Bestie. And her presence has become quite important as I search my cloudy sangria induced brain fog for things to tell you about on monday mornings.
Today, I want to tell you why Bestie is sometimes a terrible person. Cause she can’t be the bestest all the time. That wouldn’t be fair. The conversation went something like this:
While watching Game of Thrones, a scene came on that featured a goat herder.
Bestie (B): “I want to be a goat herder.”
Cookie (C): ‘OMG! Me too. I love goats.”
B: “You know, goat herders have to eat goats.”
C: ” No? Can’t they just milk them and make cheese?”
B: “No. You have to eat them.”
C: “I couldn’t. Goats are my friends.”
B: “Dude, you need some new friends.”
C: “Clearly. Ones that don’t eat my other friends.”
Just then, a dragon flies over the goats, roasts them with his dragon fire and carries one off to eat. I sit there horrified, because I sorta liked the dragons too up to this point.
B: ” See? Dragons know what’s up for a goat.”
C: “You can’t eat goats. It’s like eating a duck. NOT ALLOWED.”
B: ” You’re just fucking lucky I haven’t eaten your dogs yet. I’ve got a tasty curry recipe they’d be delicious in.”
I just sat there. Horrified. Because you can’t eat animals that can be your friend.
And then I remembered that Bestie once ate Donkey, and said it was delicious. And a donkey is pretty much almost a horse, so no wonder she’d eat a goat. Because she’s a terrible person.
And I apparently would be a terrible goat herder.