So, I'm sat on my bed, motionless and unmoving. My pulse is slow, my pupils are dilated normally, my breathing is at it's normal rate, as is my blinking rate. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck haven't moved yet, and my forehead remains relatively sweat-free. But thankfully, no cold chills have spilled over my body yet, either.
What you're witnessing now, dear readers, is not a reviewer preparing themselves to listen to Lady GaGa's hig...