Braindead.

So. Completely. Comatose. Seriously people, if ever my nose was in danger it would be now, from the imminent threat of hitting my keyboard. My intestines seem to have decided that not only will I be utterly unable to consume coffee, now tea is getting a little too strong for me. Tea. This is the drink that genteel English ladies whose ribs were being crushed by corsets and thus were prone to fainting would drink. Not whiskey. Tea. I am old before my time. I've been greying since I was 15, and apparently my intestines are joining in the line of stuff to go early. Next will be something equally weird no doubt, like my toenails. Ooo, actually, my knuckles have been getting stiff and achy... but that's probably from my secret double life as a vinyl-catsuit-clad Woman of Mystery. Too much punching bad guys.

So that's enough random stream of consciousness for one afternoon when I'm supposed to be working, I suppose.