Somebody Call OSHA!

The boiler in my office building went kaput on Sunday, and it's colder than a witch's tit in here. Add to that my newly developed head cold, and you've got Tissuepalooza on my desk. These are unacceptable working conditions. And the radio station keeps playing 80s Chicago and Michael McDonald. How much torture am I expected to take?

Speaking of torture, Alias was amazing last night. [Note: If you've never watched Alias, this is going to make no sense to you, so skip to the next paragraph.] Sydney Bristow may be a physical bad-ass (shooting out a plane window then crawling to the parachutes to escape the crashing plane), but she's no mental match for Arvin Sloane. What an evil guy. Oh sure, we all thought Sloane was rattled, what with the being forced to kill his own wife because she knew too much. We thought he was a fool for trusting Jack and not realizing that the Bristows were double agents (and could Jack be a triple agent? who knows?). But no, he played us the whole time. He played the Alliance, Sydney, the CIA, everyone. And he used Sark to do it. Now, Anna Espinoza has assumed Francie's identity, just when Francie got a little happiness. Too bad she ended up witha bullet in her head on the floor of her very own restaurant. Sloane knows everything. But what's his agenda? Does he have it in for the Bristows or just the Alliance? Does he want the Rambaldi artifacts or does he want Irina Derevco? And what about Dixon? Will he ever forgive Sydney for letting him believe he was working for the good guys? Will the unwitting soldiers of SD-6 be folded into the CIA or arrested? And where will sodium pentathol come ito the mix? Sydney and Vaughn kissed! And it was good! Way to go, JJ Abrams.

Enough of the spy ranting. My nose is leaking and my fingers are little typing icicles.