Finally, I step in horse poop

Yesssss. This charlatan of a cowgirl finally made it to a real ranch. With real horseshit. (Hello oxymoron, you little devil!) And a miniature pony named Little Dude (who, it should be noted, was hung like a stallion). No Thanksgiving has even come within a HORSESHOE of this year's ranch escapade/wino binge in Sideways-country (Santa Ynez, CA). I drove Gator, the tractor. I played with two pugs, Samson and Delilah, each of whom were missing an eye. I ate fried turkey like a fat kid. I stuffed my face with my own dessert (how tacky!). I even rocked Guitar Hero (and darts, for that matter. By rocking darts I mean five got stuck in the wall). And we actually played horseshoes. And when was the last time you played horseshoes. Seriously.

The only thing missing was the ranchhand with a fu manchu and a bluetooth. Oh wait, he was there. Santa Ynez, I heart you.

Giddyup.