Here's a word from our friendly sponsors at Tate's Ranch!
Howdy, folks, and welcome to the hard, hard life of a potato cowhand.
We are the "Ranch" in yer Ranch Dressing. If you've got the dips, we've got the chips. Here at Tate's Ranch, we hand-raise your potaters in free-roamin' envir'nments, providin' the greenest 'xperience they could poss'bly have. We're as green as a Grinch in a cabbage patch on Christmas. We're as green as a gecko bathin' in green beans. We're as green as a hippie with a recyclin' symbol tattooed to his o' her forehead. Green. Like money.
We even get yer potatoes nice, healthy exercise by chasing 'em around with a lasso.
So make sure that you're gettin' your potaters from Tate's ranch, where a happy potater, is a mashed potater.
A horrible commercial, I know, but I don't have too many other sponsors. At least they mentioned the Grinch and got me into the Christmas spirit! There's something I have to look forward to, since Thanksgiving will obviously not be the same without Mr. Lay and his family and friends. Oh well. I'm going to have to come to terms with this at some point! (Or deny it forever. But who's keeping track? *shrugs*)
Make with the science, already!
Height: the rip-snortin' 5'0" of a thoroughbred cowgirl.
Weight: a grand and mighty 124 lbs, and that was after eating like 3 tacos.
...now I want Ranch Dressing. Sheesh. If Mr. Lay was a cowboy, he'd serenade me by a campfire with a guitar and give me wildflowers he'd picked fresh on the job, not torment me with thoughts of Ranch flavored Ruffles. Well, this is the half-way mark. Not too much longer shall we be apart!
'Til next time, cowpoke,
Rini
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