Storms, Nauseating Fag Ends, and Chokecherries - Coming to a Porno Circus Near You!

Sweet fuck all to say. I just accidently popped on here and now I feel trapped that I actually logged in. I mean, it's almost 12:30, so it's too late for me to really get into talking about anything. I was just on good old crackbook, and accidently clicked off onto here and here I sit, broken-hearted..... Ate Taco Time, and really farted.
It's true, I ate TT tonight and it always turns my arse into some scary-ass burning sulfer factory of rank proportions. In other words, I don't think I'll be getting any tonight. My chances in the morning probably are nil too, unless I pass this burrito before then.
So today we both took the day off since Kelly starts school on Tuesday, grade one, and will now be a full-time student, so of course I have to make a bigger deal about this than probably needs to be, since I mourn it so, but anyway, we took the day off, and after taking 110 dollars of bottles, cans, and juice containers into the recycling place (remember going there hung over that one morning Margo, so we could get money to go buy some more booze, and almost puking as the fag ends (cig butts to all you non-British people) came pouring out of that one bottle?), and then we picked up subs and went for picnic at the park out of town. There, we went on the swinging bridge, hiked up huge hills in the forest, and picked gallons of chokecherries. So, tomorrow will include trying to make chokecherry syrup, along with canning beans and carrots, making bread and butter pickles, and cleaning the 10 (or so) ice cream pails of wild blueberries we picked the other day. Yup, just call us Tammy Wynette and Euple, or Loretta and Doo, or whatever the hell you want to call us - we are now offically old people. Or earthy people. I do subscribe to Harrowsmith and all...
Brutus, the new puppy, is doing great. However, he is very big. Very fat. Compared to the others, he's twice the size. So, he comes by it naturally. In the woods today, we encountered a wild cat, which I initially wanted to take home, until I became convinced he was going to attack us. I feel like the Angelina Jolie of the animal kingdom - I will be soon adopting animals from Africa, and wearing blood of ex-lovers around my neck, and stealing the famous wives of famous Canadians. However, since we have no famous Canadians, really, that leaves me to run off with Barbara Amiel, Mila Mulroney, or Mary Jo Eustace, but since her hubby left HER for Tori Spelling, well, that just makes her pathetic in a way.
So anyway, for the past 10 days or so, it's been colder than a witch's titty here. I mean, going down to 5 degrees at night, leaves already starting to change color, and all that jazz. But I still refuse to wear pants. Well, I mean, I wear SOMETHING over my knackers, because I ain't no streaker, but you know what I mean - shorts and Dawgs, every day, no matter how nipply it is outside.
So tonight when I went into Shoppers to buy a bottle of pop to accompany the TT, I couldn't resist getting the Method window cleaner. It's mint scented. I don't know if I ever shared here my love for Method products, but honey, that shit is da bomb, plain and simple. I can't wait to try it out. Because, as the last two sentences attest, I have no life.
And, since Margo gave me the gears when she was here because of my crazy anti-smoking stance on the blog, I need to share this - when we ate lunch in the park, we were at this one picnic area, and on the ground were a bunch of fag ends, and I had to forcibly stop myself from gagging whilst eating. So, I may crave smoking still, but littered butts make me hurl. I am an enigma, babies.....
Hey, let me throw this question out there - is anyone reading this a Methodist? And if so, what do Methodists believe, and what are your services like? (Too long for me to explain the whole background into this Methodism thing, but just curious).
Hey, Devo, let me ask you a question here - I see you are a Radiohead fan (right on, Mama). What was your impression of "Kid A"? I am curious.
Also, you are a Coldplay fan - I happened to love the last album but I know nobody else who did - what are your thoughts?
OH! I HAVEN'T DEBRIEFED (not literallly, you sick people) on the Carol Ann Harris book!!!!!!!
Well, whoop de dooo, on holidays I finally got my stubby sausaged-fingered hands (I really do have sausage fingers - it looks like a birth defect) on the book "Storms: My Life With Fleetwood Mac", written by Lindsey Buckingham's ex-girlfriend. She was with him from right before Rumours was released in 77 until 84 or so.
I savoured the book, and it was pretty good to get some juicy drug and sex filled tidbits about my heavenly family (because in heaven, it will be apparent that I was really the sixth member of the band). Anyway, I tried to leave my Stevie bias aside, but took a little of what she said with a grain of salt because I don't like to hear negative about my Stevie. However, it was more annoying how she would then try to make up for whatever ignorant thing she said with "but how could i compete with the sex godess of 70's rock who is super talented" over and over. Anyway, it was a good read, and documented Lindsey's abusive nature, but the ending was all rushed and I still don't quite get the break-up. She documents the relationship in 300 pages, but the breakup happens over the course of like a page or so. And so, that bugs me, and so does the way she keeps saying she is so squeaky clean and would never smoke weed or drink, but would do coke, but of course, everyone else is coked up more than her. But then, she and Lindsey break up when he's working on "GO Insane" and then he leaves a copy on her doorstep and it's full of songs that she thinks are about her and her drug use and then I think "maybe you WERE a cokehead" - I really believe Lindsey did slap the shit out of his women, because I know he did it to Stevie, but maybe she wasn't so innocent, because to read it, she's just so damn rational and straight, it's like Melissa Gilbert teaching poor blind Mary to insert a tampon without eyesight without breaking her hymen on a very special episode of Little House on the Prairie.
But I ignore it all - until the last 2 pages or so when she details the "huge career" she has in costume design for videos, which probably is the truth, but she says something about "coming full circle and working with Fleetwood Mac on the video for "Save Me" - Lindsey filmed his parts on a separate day when I wasn't there, which he thought best" and I suddenly think "Wait a minute, cokehead, 'Save Me' was from Behind the Mask, an actually pretty solid album from 1990 - WHEN LINDSEY WASN'T IN THE FUCKING BAND." That's right, he wasn't even in the band, do DUH, he wasn't in the fucking video. So right there, old Carol is just making up shit. Retarded..... and totally turned all the nuggets I read up to that point, and believe me, I stretched that read out for 2 weeks because I wanted to savor it, into potential hogwash. So I need to reread with a critical eye now and then decide how I feel.
Anyway, it's now 1:00 and I bet dollars to donuts my dad will call before 9 for a date to the farmer's market, so I better run.
xo
JT