Give Me Your Snot-encrusted, Phlegm-shooting, Aching Masses

Christ on a bike, I feel so utterly wrecked today, it feels as though The Maglev's hit me...got really stinking flu, aches and pains, and a cough that sounds like I've been on a twenty-a-day habit. I just can't get a lucky break health-wise...if I'm not green with food-posing, it's a buggered-up immune system, which I'm guessing is from overwork. Yeah, that's right, moi, overwork. Careful there...you're probably laughing so hard that you'll get a hernia. Misery loves company after all. Excuse me, while I wipe off the phlegm I just deposited on the screen. Ahem...Anyway, the new job's mindfuckingly tedious, interspersed with only moments of irrational exuberance whenever we hear the Australian Consul's answerphone kick in (G'day!) or the pop-rock hold music from some of the Scandinavian companies...it's all fun and games in the heady world of personal financial marketing! And another thing. Chopsticks. Mother-fucking Chopsticks. Of all the bastard songs that anyone could conceivably choose with which to torture people on the phone, why the fuck Chopsticks? Day in, day out, all I want to do is ram (with considerable force, I might add) a few pairs of chopsticks in every conceivable nook and cranny of the composer of that turd-encrusted sorry excuse for a ditty. (Deep breath, I'm already fragile enough, I don't want to go straining myself.) In happier news, I've found my new favourite drink of all time...in the entire world. It's Mongolian Yoghurt, a bizarre mish-mash of sheep's cheese, sour yoghurt, green raisins and hard-as-nails muesli. Believe it or not, I haven't lost my sanity (what little I have left) as well as several of my bodily functions (No, not those ones, get your mind out of the gutter.)