The guzzling down of freezy Frappage* of a morn is oft accompanied by the following statement:
"OOOOH! BRAIN FREEZE!"
I'm no biological greybeard, but I'm faily certain of the location of my internals, and the way various bits and bobs are positioned. So when I have partaken of blizzardy beverages, I'm pretty certain the sipped slush slips slowly stomachwards like a norfolk tractor down me trachea.
At no point has any icebergy fluid diverted from my digestive system to chill cranial content.
If it did somehow defy gravity, these gormsters would not exclaim thus, for their superconductive supercooled cerebellum would process information at superspeed, and such statements stuffed! Instead, they turn into superfool cerebellends!
All that fluidal talk has made me rather thirsty. I'll just take a sip of me Mango And Passionfruit Frappe...
Gaaaah! Glacialment of encephelon!!
* the icy flavoursome treatage for those enamoured of the caffeine breathed upon by Ithaqua, not the rapeage of Basefuck status.
