As I type this I am eating a trim sandwich

Today I have eaten a dozen chippolatas. In other words, of our house's annual chippolata consumption, 50% can be accounted for by my greasy face.


Blarg.

Today is that start of BST, which I means I will have to wake up and go to work at 5 AM (in old money). I predict that this will be less fun than eating a lot of sausages. In the new republic we will Fall back twice a year, and just ignore the sun altogether.

In order to pass the time at work I decided to describe The Milk Challenge in these terms.

DC 10 Fort save vs. "The Chills"

DC 15 Will Save to keep drinking past the first twool

DC 25 Fort Save to avoid vomiting.

I predict that 90% of my readership lost me about halfway through this post and the remainder think it's stupid that I made a challenge entirely out of saving throws.

I'm going to bed.

It would explain the vowel sounds

Metric
Arcade Fire
Feist
Stars
New Pornographers

I think I'm turning Candian, I think I'm turning Canadian, I really think so.

Apparently it is Weights and Meausures Week.

In the Quick-e-mart where I violate my country's labour laws*, they sell three varities of milk, each in three sizes. Pints, litres, and two-liter bottles ("twools"). Skim milk has red caps, semi-skimmed green and full-fat blue. When I have strengthened my ring finger enough to play a G chord, I will write a song called Green Litres and tell everyone that it is about the Vietnam War.

*Also, my university's policy. I hope you're reading, Proletariat, because I still haven't received my membership card. Is it the accent? Because I can try to regain my habit of elidin' g sounds, if that would help.