A Pig Is Just A Pig

Most of the time, when you put lipstick, or pretty bows, or clothes on a pig, it might look different...but it is still a pig - unless of course it is a fat bike pig, in which case that is a GOOD kind of pig.  99.99% of the time there is no such thing is a good pig though...

I have come to the realization that my pig is called 'Butte'.  My recent adventure of getting shot in the mug by a paintball fat farm while mountain biking gave me a bit of clarity.  I have been putting lipstick on Butte since the 'bastards took our omelets day' (our second weekend in town).  As some of you might know, we have had several crazy episodes since then and we have continued to apply lipstick on said piggie....Granted, the lipstick has gone from being applied with a lipstick stick, to being applied with a paint brush, to being applied with a broom, and now being applied with a full on paint sprayer (urggh, again with the damn paint).  Each whacky unique experience has required more and more lipstick to the point where the paint sprayer has just sprayed the whole piggie such that it looks like a cartoon jalapeno piggie.

Unfortunately that has been a disservice to ourselves as we have continued to hold out hope that perhaps our experiences were just unique and that our experiences would get better as we plugged along during our sentence here.  

The money move would have been to just realize that it was one big giant piggie and that a piggie is a piggie is a piggie is a piggie.  If we would have embraced our inner piggie early on, there is a chance we could have seen the piggie for what it is.  A pig.  We should not have sugar coated the piggie, we should not have made the piggie into a mensa piggie, or foodie piggie, or a friendly piggie.  The reality is this pig is a wild boar!  So much for the money move huh? 

If we would have recognized the wild boar it would perhaps better prepared and better have managed our expectations but alas, the wild boar had to run us over a few times for us to come to terms with accepting the wild boar for being the wild piggie that it is.  Yes yes yes, we are ssssllllooooowwww learners but I prefer to look at it as being stupidly optimistic.  

So as our tenure in Butte starts to wind down, I raise my glass and toast the wild piggie and will make a concerted effort to no longer be fired up about piggie feces as it is flung around and happens to hit me.  Just remember if you live in piggie-ville, there is a good chance you will get hit with flying piggie dookie - it might be intentionally flung your way, or it could just be collateral dookie...either way, you gotta' learn to live with the 'eau de piggie'

I encourage you all to embrace your inner piggie....