i'm ok. you? well, not so much.

I received a package from Hockey Mom (thank you!). Included in it was a postcard bearing the timely advice: "The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you."

I think I've pretty well got my bases covered as long as I stay buddies with our ItGirl. Today I get an email at work and, instead of begging for my intimate favours, as do most of her missives, she informs me that she thinks she's broken her ankle again, or at least sprained it.

Sitting. At. Her. Desk.

Now this chick is either the most unfortunate person on the face of the earth (don't be buying any lottery tickets, baby, they'll likely spontaneously combust) or she's got some form of Munchausen Syndrome. I think, barring any sort of substantiating evidence, that I am going to believe that she's faking it completely.

Please dog, let it be true. I want to go visit her and I'm getting too scared to be in the same city ...