I'm currently sitting at my desk at work. This computer does not have WoW installed. I'm not even supposed to have administrative privileges on my work computer (except I do now, as it turns out that I'm a bit smarter than my work's IT guys). Sitting hidden under my desk, mere inches away, are two blue boxes. One is large, and appears to have frost dripping from it. It is a collector's edition (girlfriend wanted the pet). It dwarfs the smaller box, my regular edition of Wrath of the Lich King. Anyone at my office could come by and see me at any time, so I cannot open the boxes to read the instruction booklet and admire the art book, nor may I indulge my desire to gently stroke the edges of the boxes while fantasizing about killing slightly larger boars.
Right now, ten buttloads of people are playing Wrath, crashing world, instance, and ventrillo servers worldwide. I am not one of them.
This may be the least productive work day this country has seen for 2 years.
Luckily, I have some personal days left for this year from my job (my job has excellent benefits).
If you ask my co-workers, they'll tell you that I recently developed a personal emergency that I must leave work for the afternoon to deal with. I also, I regretted to inform them, will be unable to make it into work tomorrow due to this private personal matter.
I've received many well wishes from those who assume my private, personal matter is tragic in nature.
I can now verify for you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am going to hell.