So, I just finished reading Wuthering Heights. Such a wonderful book!!! (Even if it isn't as great as Jane Eyre, it's still good readin'...) Here are some of my thoughts on the book...

1. Nearly everyone dies. But doesn't everyone die, anyway - at sometime...
2.Heathcliffe is the father-in-law from hell.
3.British chicks are weird - unless they are servants. Ellen - or Nelly - is someone that I would love to meet.Catherine needed Santa Clause. (Don't ask...or do. I'll explain...) Cathy needed some hard work and more hugs.
4.Hareton makes me laugh. But I still really, really like him. There is just something so weirdly funny about a little British boy who curses people in every breath...I know, that's awful...
5.If I had been left alone in a room with Linton, I would have blackened both of his eyes...and then laughed at him. He needed a good spanking.
6.What is up with these wicked people hanging puppies?
7.I would have thrown things at Joseph just to hear him curse me.
8.I wonder...Do people still run around on the moors in England? And...does anyone other than me think that it is funny that the main descriptor for any place in England is that it is "near London"? How is that clarifying anything anymore than just saying that it is in England?

I am going to read Georgia Scenes by Augustus Longstreet next. I have read some of this book before. It is one of the finest pieces of Southern Literature that I have ever read before. (The author was president of the University of South Carolina between the years of 1857 and 1861. That makes him okay in my book - even if he was born in Georgia. At least it was in Augusta, which makes it close enough to South Carolina.)

Hubby got me a copy of The Carolina Housewife. In case you didn't know, it is a cookbook published in 1847 in Charleston by the daughter of Edward Rutledge. It is really interesting to look at how people in the South cooked then...and compare it to today. Yankees don't know how to make grits...or collards...or fried chicken. Okay...so maybe more people make fried chicken than I would consider Southern. We'll let that one go...I guess.

I was drunk last night, dear mother. I was drunk the night before. And if you'll please forgive me...I'll never get drunk anymore.

I was thinking...have you ever been in a crowd where everyone is giving their "drunk stories"? They always become long, drawn-out tales...sometimes amusing...sometimes just boring as h-e-double hockey sticks... I don't have any personal drunk stories to add. So, what if I just made conversation by telling my cookie stories?

Here is my cookie story...
Omagah...This one time. I was just like eating cookies. And like this guy kept sending me more...right after I like finished one. And I couldn't like refuse them. SO I just kept like eating them. And then...I like ate so many. I like couldn't see where I was going. I like knocked into this like person. And they were like so angry. And like I didn't care...because I was like just singing La Cucaracha... And then I started to dance. (Insert loud, nervous laugh...and a slight pause...only to see who is listening.) I had like a few more cookies. And then I like passed out. I like vomited all over myself. Like I was saying..."Lord if you will let me get past this, I will never eat another cookie again."

Did you hear about the man who broke into really rich people's houses because he was under the influence of cotton candy? I wonder if it was regular cotton candy or ...FLUFFY STUFF!!!!