…eggs for breakfast!

I have a sort of a sore throat.

I think I will get schwine flu.

And this has nothing to do with anything, but I suddenly have a terrible urge to write my will. A testament. Something, that my relatives will want to honour as my last dying wish. A sort of an epilogue of my life, a testament to my achievements and a celebration of giving and sharing. A last act of kindness, charity and love to those continuing their lives here on earth.

Here it comes. Tommi can have the Xbox. Vilkku can have iPhone.

In other not-news: Kentucky Fried Chickën.

About three years ago I went to KFC. It was a horrible and disgusting experience. However, today after a series of co-incidences and random events, I decided to go back and in a rather Samaritan way, give peace a chance.

It truly takes and idiot to never change their mind and now I can proudly say that I was wrong. They don’t serve disgusting and horrible food. They serve a shamelessly disgraceful abomination of anything ever intended to enter your mouth and spit acid in your eye as they prepare your self-inflicted torture mechanisms in a meat lump formerly known as Chicken.

I ate this much salt in a mouthful. (I realise you can’t see the gesture, but trust me, it is grandiose).

I might need that will in the end not because of getting hit by a blind bus driver or dying of some flu (which is, albeit sad, a fairly pathetic death, especially with the swine-prefix). I will need it because otherwise Tommi might take the iPhone and Vilkku keep the xBox…and we don’t want that now do we.