And mother always told me, be careful of who you love.

Are you feeling okay?

Are you having that feeling where you're not sure your legs are still attached to your body, where you'd might as well be floating at the knees? The feeling that there's a disco ball hanging from your rib cage and your innards are dancing 'til the cows come home? Where you're convinced your conscious thought is mingling somewhere around Alpha Centauri?

These symptoms lead to one diagnosis. An incurable disease where those subjected live in a constant state of utter bliss. But don't be fooled! This is one of the most vile of diagnoses! Little do they know, this disease cuts off connections between the brain's thinking division and acting division. It turns your heart into a ticking time bomb of emotions and causes hyper-active tearducts. In fact, it's been proven that once the precurser symptoms appear (chronic smiling, singing in the shower, love for fellow mankind), it's too late to save the patient.

Plausible treatments show no positive results. Seperation (even for a short duration) from the original source of the virus only brings on cold sweats and hives. Attempting to sever the connection between the original source and the patient with false information can cause violent and often fatal heart attacks.

In it's final stages, the disease affects the muscles in the body and paralyzes them. The lips remain in constant pucker and the arms outstretched. One leg is bent back at the knee, this disorder is known as the "foot pop," occurring in healthy subjects as a sign of pleasure. Doctors can no longer do anything for the patient, except feed him or her jello and tea (an odd craving caused by this syndrome, no scientific explaination has been fathomed).

Yes, this diagnosis is by far the worst. Medical experts around the world agree, it's the worst news to bring to a family. In our medical textbooks, they even have a few suggested phrases - as breaking the news to those surviving the victim is too difficult.

"Mrs. and Mr. [insert surname here], I'm sorry to inform you that our worst fears have been confirmed. Your son/daughter is suffering a severe case of infatuation. Our greatest concern at this point is that it will develop into a chronic, vegetative state of lovestruckitis. [Wait for sobbing to subside]. There, there - we're doing all that we can, I promise."

Define, "okay."

San Francisco '08