I watch the Triple Crown every year…from the no-hat-required, jeans-friendly couch in my house. My family texts off and on all day before the Kentucky Derby: after all, for those of us in Minnesota the Derby is the last sign that winter is truly over, because horse racing season has begun. It’s similar to Winter/Construction being the two seasons up here, except Race season is far less annoying traffic-wise.
Anyway, we make fun of the horrendous outfits (OH MY GOD Rutledge, really? How far the mighty Top Gear host hath fallen), the hats that could apply for their own zip code and MUST require a gallon of mint juleps just to step out the door (assuming a head that huge could get through a doorway), and the host (who apparently stole life-size My Little Pony hair to create that cotton candy pink thing on his head).
I know it sounds mean, but if you’re going to go to a multi-million dollar event wearing a hat that literally looks like you stole it from Strawberry Shortcake and be on camera, I have no sympathy.
This year, we discovered it’s possible I need a new prescription for my glasses.
ACTUAL horse’s name: DESTIN.
What I saw: DESITIN (for those of you without spawn or diaper-changing duties EVER in your life, Desitin is a baby butt cream).
I’m not kidding, the following texts flew from LA to Duluth, MN, to Minneapolis yesterday:
Me: That horse Destin? I keep seeing “Desitin instead and I think his name is BUTT CREAM.
Me: GO BUTT CREAM!
Mom: Run your butt off!!
Aunt: RUN BUTT CREAM RUN!
Aunt: What # was Butt Cream??
Race happens (NO TEXTING DURING THE RACE!)
Aunt: Poor Butt Cream came up from the rear…butt lost.*
Aunt: Butt Creme will get it in the end.
And that’s why I can’t ever go the Kentucky Derby in real life.
*For the record, Destin kicked himself into serious high gear on the final stretch and came from the back of the pack to 6th.
Go Butt Cream!
Dear porn surfers: I bet THIS wasn’t what you were looking for when you googled “butt cream” and, again, NO SYMPATHY. Mwahahahaha.