Friday, August 28, 2015

That is not a thing. It can't be.

With Heather back in the States, she and I have taken up the tradition of talking on my lunch hour a couple of times a week.  These conversations are gold. Maybe I'll record one to share with our reader one day.  Because we're hilarious.

It was during one of these treasured conversations that my mind was effectively blown as I struggled to grasp what I was seeing on the lobby TV in my office building.  "Yeah, uh huh, it was... um... er, what?" I trailed off mid-conversation as the connection between my mouth and brain was temporarily severed.  In that moment, I was privileged to witness something oddly beautiful. A commercial for an animal acupuncturist.  That's not a typo, trust me, I even spelled checked it.  Animal acupuncturist.

I think I was disconnected from my body for about seven minutes.  I kid you not, there was a segment starring a horse with needles sticking out of it's hide.  I expected the next scene to show the equine relaxing on a massage table, wrapped in towels, with cucumbers on it's face.  I cannot oversell the surrealism in that moment.  Heather had to literally yell my name three separate times as she tried to telephonically smack me back to reality.

Animal acupuncture.  I checked my phone to make sure the date wasn't April 1.  There was no way that was a thing.  I was so confused as an actual animal acupuncturist testified of the healing powers he possessed.  The ability to rejuvenate a menagerie of vertebrates after a long, stressful day, or something.  I still don't get it.  I was in such disbelief I had Heather google the profession. She texted me the website: www.ivas.org, which is apparently the website for the International Veterinary Acupuncture Society, complete with a mission statement.

Animal acupuncture.  I still don't believe it.  It is not a thing.  It can't be.

"Horse Boarders," If That Is Your Real Name

There we were, minding our own business, driving from Centerville into Farmington, UT, a lovely little suburban road lined with lovely little suburban houses. I found myself following a pallet truck loaded with hay, which at first I did not consider odd, knowing that the "Farmington Days" parade was coming up, and would probably include horses.

We continued to follow this pallet truck a few blocks, being amused at the quaint little town we were visiting. The something unexpected happened - the truck took a turn into a driveway. A driveway that led to a home. A home with a sign in front that read "Horse Boarding."

This is Utah, you know. It's not like it's full of cities and huge apartments, so it's not TOTALLY out of the realm of possibility for someone to be boarding horses in their yard. The only problem was that this home was in a totally residential area. As I mentioned early, we were driving in a suburban area. Like, 5 or 6 houses to a block. We could not see any possible way for this house to have a yard big enough to contain A horse, much less MULTIPLE horses.

"What? What is happening here?" I wondered out loud. JJ looked at me, clearly just as baffled as I was. We tried to talk this through - maybe the driveway wound around to a larger backyard. That would be the only logical explanation. However, upon further examination (read: me driving around the block multiple times in utter disbelief) this did not prove to be the case. So what does this mean? Do they have an underground bunker where they keep other people's horses? Are they a secret butcher, and advertising as a "horse boarder" is a sick joke? Are they actually looking for someone to board THEIR horses? That is even more confusing.

Then, to add to my horror, I found a Facebook page documenting the obvious cases of human/alien interaction or possible post-apocalyptic evidence on Mars. On this extremely educational page, there was a clear photo of a STATUE OF A HORSE! This can mean only one thing. This home, this innocent-looking house in suburban Utah, is actually a portal to Mars. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT board your horses here! They will send them to Mars without proper protection, and your. horse. will. die. These people don't even care about using correct equine space protection, the bastards.