Chunks . . . Three women were celebrating at a bar one evening, and left separately after a very late night of drinking. They next evening they met up again and related their tales of misery that the previous evening's toll had taken on them. The first gal starts off by telling her tale: "I drove straight home, walked into the house, and as soon as I got through the door, I blew chunks". To which the second gal chimed in, "You think that was drunk? I got in my car, drove out of the parking lot, and wrapped my car around the first tree I came across. I don't even have insurance!" And the third proclaimed, "I was by far the most drunk. I got home, I got in a big fight with my husband, knocked a candle over and burned the whole house down!" They all looked at each other for a moment, a bit chagrined. Then the first gal says: "Ladies, I don't think you understand. Chunks is my dog."