Meat Head and the Chicken Fandanglies

It's not every day a gal gets a bag of meat in the mail … but it really should be.

God bless the great state of Oklahoma and one of its finest inhabitants, Mr. Woodrow, for sending some venison jerky to yours truly. All I can show you is the sack because I done ate up every last bit of it.


Dee.Lish.Us.

I have some jerk pork jerky marinating as we speak (or read and write) to return in kind, but it's going to be tough to beat his meat.

Heh.

W also provided me with directions, and thank goodness, because it's been quite a while since I've had any meat in my hands. Take that as you will, but I almost let my friend Al Bal set me up with someone who's described as "kind of a crack head, but he'd be a lot of fun."

I admit, I gave it a legitimate thought but I'm getting too old to be doing shiz like that any more. I am officially 28 years of age.

Thank you all for the birthday wishes; I got some amazing bleu cheese from Lorelai and a wonderful gift from the Pennsylvania judicial system when it dropped some charges against me on account of my being a "nice person." I swear to Joe. I can't make this stuff up.

This is not the time nor place to go into it—but according to a very reputable anonymous source with a great rack, not only is it OK to send thank-you notes to cops who arrest you in a kindly manner, it's also a darn good idea.

In the Comments section, tell me what you like about Pennsylvania.