And for those who are not media junkies...

I instant message a lot with friends and a few co-workers during the day, using three different kinds of messengers. Considering I'm rocking the IM's all day, I start thinking like the smileys.

So...yet again, I have perpetuated the office rumors of my alleged pregnancy, albeit unwittingly. Just yesterday I posted about it, but each new day is a testament to this fact: the village idiots of New York City are largely employed by my company.

It turns out that I may have a stress fracture in my pelvis, from running at the gym too hard. (I know what you're thinking. Now, stop it.) I go this morning to get an X-ray, and they give me a copy of my X-ray, telling me, "That's yours. You keep it." Ok. Like I know what to do with it?

I went straight to work, because I was too far from home to drop it off. When I got in, the office quieted down several decibels. I couldn't fold the X-ray, so I'm standing there trying to figure out how to store it. Out of irritation, I finally lay it flat against the wall behind my chair, forgetting that name of the facility, including words like "X-Ray", "MRI", and "Ultrasound", is printed across the envelope. Guess which word grew three times its size in the eyes of everyone I work with?

Two of my co-workers immediately shot out of the room together, ready to have the biggest, baddest Gossip Showdown, like Page Six has never before seen. Richard Johnson, meet your match.

Let me tell you - my co-workers? They're Weapons of Mass Stupidity.