Didn't we speak already about this spelling issue?
In any case, I hear your cry of anguish, and will see what I can do.

griffin rummages through a large beat up wooden box with 'wedder' written on the front in crayon. The box holds paper sachets which contain powder. They look sort of like soup packets.
He ruffles through a line of them. They are all labelled 'boring'.
"No, no, no, no. Shit I saw it here yesterday."
He plucks out a sachet which has a skull and crossbones on the front, and a slight tear in the corner, which leaks a light drizzle of powder. The powder emits a faint hum as it falls, which if you listen carefully, is actually made up of weeping and mourning. griffin folds over the leaky corner and fixes it with a few inches of red electrician's tape, and puts it back into the box.
griffin peers at another labelled 'wet Sunday' and throws it back into the box. He pulls out a fist full of sachets and goes through them one at a time, casually tossing the rejects back into the box.
"Mild weekend" *flip*
"Overcast all weak, rainy all weakend" *toss*
"A few flakes, but no snow that sticks" *chuck*
"Drizzle, then fogge, then more drizzle" *toss*
"Windy with light rain" *flip*
griffin pauses, and strikes a pose. He strokes his chin in apparent contemplation, and if you didn't know better you'd imagine he was actually thinking. Something resembling a thought must somehow have found it's way into his skull, as he suddenly returns to the box with renewed vigour.
He sweeps aside several sachets painted black and marked "oh hell noes" aside. He lifts one labelled "globel warming" up to the light for inspection.
"Empty. Hmm, not sure of that's good or bad. Oh well."
He crumples the empty packet into a ball, and throws it to the wastebasket and misses by a mile. He returns to the box, and from the back right corner pulls out one with no label, merely a half inch of multi-coloured tinsel taped to the front.
"Yes, yes" he mutters. "This will do nicely."
griffin tears it open along the 'open other end' notice and holding the packet high in the air, he shakes it vigourously. Powder sprays everywhere, then disappears in a shimmery sparkly cloud of shimmery sparkly things, and a sound that goes 'bonk'.
Satisfied, griffin closes the lid on the box and wanders off to find more porn.