A Ping and a Poke

Hey, y'all, I won! On the driving range, I hit the rusty iron steer with a golf ball and a 3-wood. What a clanging ping it made! I am quite sure I succeeded in this task because I was wearing my lucky shirt. But I'm a little confused as to how my "winning" equates to me BUYING DINNER for my compadres who were clearly not as competent as I to ding a steer. Fortunately, it was "3 for 1 fajitas" night at Santa Rita.

In other news . . .

A CORRECTION. Fragrant Liar must apologize profusely for the egregious error she made in her last post, Spooning Made Easy—lo those many moons ago. See, she completely misspoke when she said, "Is his little guy willing to stand down?" Fragrant Liar is on her knees, begging forgiveness from any male reader whose ego was harmed in the making of that statement. She hereby amends the sentence to read, "Is his Gargantua at rest?"

Oooh, don't mention it.
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