First day of Lent, 11.56 a.m. Plagued by Willy Wonka fantasies of plunging into a great pool of molten chocolate.
I drank weisse bier with Mark last night. A pedant in an ugly sweater complimented my correct pronunciation of of ‘weisse’, but I was probably just saying ‘Vice, uh, beer?’. When it comes to drinking, I am a big girl’s blouse, a big pink skipping rope, a wuss. After two measly pints, I had feverish dreams about drinking cool water all night long.