I’m a hypochondriac. Anyone who knows me knows that. It is a part of my life. When my boyfriend and I first started dating, he thought I was joking. He said he even thought my fear-of-contracting-every-illness was funny. Like I was doing a Seinfeld impression or something. But I don’t do impressions, just like I can’t do accents. Anyone who knows me knows that. Okay, I can do one accent and one impression. The only accent I’m capable of conjuring up is a mix between Chinese and Indian. And the only impression I can do is Marge Simpson. And that’s not even really an impression, it’s more like my real voice.

So when my man sent me this link today I started to feel my world closing in. Wifi - it’s going to start getting a worse reputation than some forms of sex. Which may be a good thing - for sex…at least.

Oh and SAVE THE DATE: NYC November 8th. I’m going to have a book party of sorts at Bluestockings. 7PM. More details soon. Sign up for my newsletter to stay in the loop!