Placebo.

Wah, four days and nothing. Gone case liao lar.Meh. No, no, been busy, really. As title suggests, this is a Milo-Genre post. Done with what I had to, but not quite in a state of mind to entertain. Nothing quite as dreadful as what I normally would portent with that sort of language, though.

Think happy thoughts. Think cute, fluffy white sheep frolicking in rolling, sun-kissed meadows.And then roasting one over a spit to medium-rare perfection, spiced and seasoned to taste. As you shear off a good-sized chunk (none of those bullshit portions they serve you in restaurants and demand your first-born child for), feel the tug of imminent food against saw-edged stainless steel, initially yielding easily to your efforts, then taking a firmer grip against the metal as the pink, tender portion you love and can already almost taste, is reached. The meat falls onto the waiting ceramic with a satisfying thunk, and a bit of melted fat, jogged loose by your exertions, falls onto the glowing embers and hisses gently. In the distance, a movie cliche comes alive as you hear, then see a wolf silhouetted against the backdrop of a gibbous moon and stars, oh, stars; its head thrown back in silent protest against nothing in particular as the last dregs of wolfsong die on the breeze.

I have no idea why I did that, but yes, that sort of quaint little loveliness. TehUneducated...will be back.