Alas, no Tanto is at hand. Only lack of tools keeps me from ritual Seppuku. That is how bored I am. Meetings drone on and on and on and on and on...
I have stabbed myself in the arm with my pen, just to stir my slowing beating heart. My brain is so catatonic I have to remind myself to breathe.
The presenter's soporific mutterings leave me daydreaming of beating him senseless with an aluminum alloy Louisville Slugger. A video of the proceedings would turn any jury in my favor, providing they could stay awake long enough to reach a verdict.
The heat in the room is unbearable. I wish I was hungover. At least then I could vomit all over the table and have an excuse to leave the room.
Is it tempting fate to hope for a mild cardiac infarction?