You know what makes for a really fun Christmas present?  Watching a dog accidentally step on the button and roll her own head up in the car window.

I'm just saying.

Since the show "Identity" started playing, I've gotten about a bazillion google hits for "how tall is Penn Jillette?"

Here we are together in Vegas. I'm 5'7" so I'm thinking that makes him right around 15'4".

Living in Oklahoma and being the owner of beagles, I get a lot of people (ok...men in camo hats and vests) asking if my dogs are huntin' dogs. 

I always laugh and shake my head, pointing to Moxie, whose belly is so round, her nipples nearly drag the floor, and tell them that unless a pizza is on the run, she's simply not interested. 

I've had a few of the guys shake their heads and give me the stink eye, telling me that hounds are MEANT to hunt and that's just that.  They imply that I'm mistreating my beagles by not training them to hunt and kill squirrels or bunnies or penguins...or whatever it is people hunt with beagles.

I know, though, by looking at Moxie that she'd much rather lay in front of the tv drooling on herself than run around outside baying at prey.  I mean, look:

Does she look like she's ready to do anything that requires moving fast? And, for that matter, she's terrified of frogs...how do you think she'd react to something as big and scary as a rabbit?

That's what I thought, too.

With that said, she has done some of her own brand of hunting lately that I, as a proud hound mother, have to share with the blogosphere. It proves that she's not ALL that lazy and does actually get out and use her genetic talents sometimes.

• Just the other day, Moxie successfully hunted down a pair of my panties. They were secretly hiding in the laundry basket and everything. And she found 'em! Good girl.
• Today she stealthily hunted down and consumed a piece of her own crap. And I couldn't be more proud.
• When I was in Dallas a couple weeks ago, she sniffed out and compltely ate a big hunk of concrete. I mean, really, who else can say THAT about their huntin' dog?
• And, right now, as I type this, she's found the ever-elusive and wild roll of wrapping paper and is showing it who's the uber huntress.

So, see? She IS a huntin' dog! And, boy, is momma proud of that!!

Um. Ahem.

There was a story on the news tonight about some clothing company somewhere (like how I only get half of the information needed to tell a real story?) that wants to start putting an obesity hotline phone number on the labels of their large-sized clothes.

Fine.  Whatevs.

BUT.  The newslady went on to say, "that means they would put it in women's clothing starting at size 12 and men's clothing with waistlines at 40"."

HUHWHATTHE?

Hi.  My comfy pants are size 12.  I have no problem with that...I know I have some pudge.  (heh. pudge)  But size 12 is NOT obese, thankyouverymuch.  I'm 5'7". According to all the charts, I could gain 15 more pounds and still be in a normal/healthy weight range.

So, dear clothing company who I don't know exactly who you are because I was busy eating my large Sonic Oreo Blast with a big fat mound of whipped cream on top and the sound of my slurping down those hundreds of calories made me miss the first part of the story...ahem...YOU MAY NOW BITE ME.

Hmph.

When I showed up in Texas this weekend, this is the t-shirt my brother was wearing.  Methinks we'll get along juuuust fine.

Last weekend, I went to a local steakhouse for dinner.  It was the kind of place that has dead animal heads on the walls and mounds of lawsuit-ready peanut shells on the floor.  After our meal, they gave us the 'if you call and do our survey, you'll get $3 off your next meal!' thing.  So, because it was utterly delish, a couple of days later I called to get my special code. 

The recording said something like they knew surveys suck, so they'd try to make this one quick and FUN!.  How they did that is to only ask 4 questions...and to have their voice person use a Texas(?) accent.  If you ask me, the girl on the recording went totally overboard on her excitment about landing this gig...but I digress.

The hillbilly-hick-cowgirl on the recording explained that, since they were FUN!, they would use a scale of peanuts to rate the service/food.  One peanut was bad...four peanuts were good.  You get the picture.

However, apparently, they didn't actually LISTEN to the recording after making it, because, um, when a girl with a bad hick accent says the word 'peanuts' over and over?  Mmmhmmm...sounds an awful lot like 'penis'. 

I could barely rank my experience because I was doing so using the FUN! Penis Scale.  Being one who wants to save $3, I braved my way through it and ranked the temperature of my food with four penis, but I couldn't stop giggling about it.

At the end, I got my code.  But...the kicker?  At the end of the recording, the hickchick said, "Thaaank ya fer doin' are survaay. We hope to see ya flickin' yer penis peanuts at Steakhouse again reeel soon."

Ahhhh, yes.  FUN! indeed.

Holy mother of Pete.

It's been so many days that I've had NO INTERNET that I'm juuuust about dead.  Yesterday I turned on a computer for the first time in about 2 weeks and it was nearly orgasmic.

*shudder*

Right now I'm on a connection that is iffy enough that I might throw this laptop against the wall if this doesn't post.  (And that wouldn't be good, seeing as it's not so much my computer.)  MY computer is stuffed deep away in the bowels of Hell my storage unit.  I'll be taking it (and a load of other crapola) to Texas tomorrow...one of a few remaining trips.

I know you all feel abandoned, unloved, shunned by your Queen Chase.  (heee!) But I still love you all.  And I will return soon. 

DAMN I have a lot of blogs to catch up on.  I'm terrified to sign into Bloglines. 

*shudder*

(not the good kind that time)