Pets, Crumpets And Trumpets

Perhaps Merely Metaphorical Trumpets
Although perhaps not, as your humble scribe is not entirely sure what kind of effects an organ has.
     If this sounds a little odd I apologise, all will be made clearer later in this post.
     First, pets.  As you surely know by now, Conrad is second-removed dad for Edna, the Wunderhund four-legged alarm system here at the Mansion.  She recognises an extensive category of words, including "octopus", which will be a benefit should she ever encounter one on her travels.
     "Flee the giant land-travelling carnivorous octopus, Edna!' we would shout, causing her to flee and live to see the next day*.
     Where was I?
     Oh, yes.  Another word that Edna recognises is "Walkies", the pronouncement of which causes her to run in excited circles.  Today I offered to take her walkies in the cold, wet rainy, grey Saturday afternoon.
     Now, I know you lot are utter skeptics, so here's the proof:

     One other thing that Edna likes is being in close proximity to, or actual contact with, yours truly, which is why she sulks when I compose the daily dose of scrivel that is BOOJUM! - unable to get close.  She usually resorts to the "How can you?" face, and again the evidence:

"Denied!"

Crumpets
If you follow the blog with any regularity, then you know Conrad's Enormous Anonymous Employer regularly promotes food products as supplied by third parties, and one of these was Warburton's Giant Crumpet.  I bought a pack on a whim, and was then perplexed and worried about their size.

Sighs of relief all round

     As you can see, they mostly fitted into the toaster.  I should have rotated them as the very top rim didn't toast properly.
     In other late-breaking news I have stocked up the dishwasher and set it going, done a laundry wash and put part in the tumble-drier, had breakfast and lunch, and washed dishes.  Whilst this might not be very interesting to you, to the average peasant of 1452 it would be an unbroken succession of miracles.

You What?
I have, in the past, had cause to chastise the Foobs and the Twits for their bizarre or inane suggestions about what I might like to check out on Facebook or Twitter.
     Take this from the Twits:

"NO!  No you can not."

     Conrad, having practically no sense of smell, is not a great one for wine.  I use it in Hungarian Goulash Soup, and once hit a fellow on the shins with a bottle of red.  Since I've won bottles of it at Pub Quiz** I will eventually drink it, but don't expect me to debate the merits of a Pinot with a Cabernet Suavignon.  My preferred tipple of choice is Morland's "Old Speckled Hen", if you must know.
     And then we have this:

Wow!  An Opus 370!  Totally outclasses the feeble Opus 360!

     I do remember having a look at a website that sold organs, a glimpse into a subculture not many know exists - like Subbuteo or Pylon-spotting - and these things are not cheap, in the order of thousands of pounds per organ.  They also have buttons that allow sound effects, hence the not-quite-certain mention of trumpets above.
     Please note that the model above is a "home practice" version, and with three manuals, pedals and an attached seat your lounge needs to be pretty large to accomodate it.  Probably best to soundproof thoroughly, too, before your neighbours and the council hit you with a Noise Abatement Order.

Because You Can Never Have Too Much Sodium Stearoyl 2 Lacytylate
Really, it's extremely safe, despite sounding as if it turns you into a quivering milk pudding.  It's a food additive, used to increase the volume of foodstuffs, especially yeasted goods.
     Why am I banging on about an ingredient that only sad lonely nerds well-informed people with a keen scientific interest would bother about?
     Because of THIS:

     I've scoffed all the Banana-flavoured Twinkies and am now down to the Classic version.
     Just so we're clear.

Television
Not that Conrad watches it for fun or entertainment, especially since the news tends to be unremittingly grim and could only be made worse by an infestation of giant land-travelling carnivorous octopii.  No, your humble scribe watches it because the adverts are occasional sources of artistic enlightenment, or the channel names and programmes inspire venomous delight.
     Today we had another potential track title for "Lift Rock For Idiots"***: "House of Alistair Frozen Deal", which satisfies one of the prime requirements for a LRFI track title, i.e. it makes no sense at all.
     Then there was the programme title "Everything £99!" as if this implies cheapness.  I don't know what they were selling except it had better be something like cars or bulk iron ore freighters or war-surplus B2 stealth bombers, because to your parsimonious author, £99 is not cheap.
     Another title struck my eye, on the Horror Channel: "Eyeborgs"

Do you see what they did there?

     The title is probably the most imaginative part of the fillum.
     Lastly I had Rugby League on in the background whilst compiling notes in my notebook - an entirely logical place to put them, non? - and made a note "Attempted murder legally sanctioned".  The television was on "Mute" yet you could still hear the thudding crunch as another bag of beef was assailed and crushed beneath a positive avalanche of man-meat.

What it takes to stop a Rugby League player

     There appears a considerable disparity between physical contact on the rugby pitch and that of the prima-donna football pitch.

All you need to immobilise a soccer player^.

There you have it, into the late afternoon and I've not typed another word of my potential NANOWRIMO entry, with the month nearly half gone!  Yes, shocking isn't it!  Nor can I start immediately after posting this as I have to drive down to Royton and get beer.  Shampoo!  I meant shampoo. Not beer.  Never beer.  Okay, sometimes beer, except not today^^.

* If next days exist in a future where land-travelling carnivorous octopii also exist.
** No gloating here.
*** My hypothetical band
^ "Allegedly"
^^ Unless they have some going cheap and then all bets are off.