I'm a Cowboy, on the Steel Horse I Ride...

In case you haven't noticed, I've started using song titles/lyrics as my blog titles. Pretty fun, don't you think? (I guess seeing as how nobody reads this, I can do whatever in the hell I want!)

Anyway, today I was thinking about bad decisions. We're still steaming over the poor call in the UCLA/A&M game last weekend, and it got me thinkin'. We all make bad decisions in our lives. Whether it's going with a college major because it was what someone else thought was best or taking that "one last tequila shot," we've all been there. Thankfully, none of my major life decisions have been horrible. I married the greatest man in the world, I have a good job (although I am still figuring out what I want to be when I grow up...but aren't we all?) and I've never killed a puppy or harassed a hobo. I'd say I'm doing pretty good.

But alas, gentle reader, I am far from perfect and have made plenty of poor choices. In the interest of keeping this light-hearted, I won't go into the really bad ones (like the college boyfriend I stayed with despite the fact he thought TheProfessor and I were lesbians. Gayle and Oprah - I totally feel your pain).

That said without further ado, here is number one (in what may or may not be an ongoing reminder of my bad decisions in the fashion arena).

1. The cowgirl skirt I made - and wore to school - in pre-school. I wanted one so badly (I looked at that damn Sears catalog page every day), but my grandma refused to buy one (reason #459,890 she is the smartest woman I know).

(Click here for more Sears awesomeness. Thanks, Alinsane!)

But did I, in all my five-year-old wisdom, take "no" for an answer? Oh, hell no. I opted to make my own (this was before all those studies came out that said scissors and needles were dangerous for kids).

The finished product was absolutely hideous (I wish I had a photo, but trust me...it was bad. I mean, really bad). The skirt was so bad, in fact, that when the 18-year-old teacher asked me...through obvious laughter...if I made it, I answered with what was probably my first lie ever.

"No, I didn't make it. My grandma did."

Sorry, grandma.