Good ol' JANE called me last night ... said she had horrible dreams the night before about the hurricane. She dreamt that Cholera (yes, good ol' Cholera) had infected our entire neighborhood. She spent the dream trying to take all the hand sanitizer she could and grease up her kids, her husband, herself, her house, to keep out all those unwanted contaminations.

I casually mentioned that I had encountered many of the Katrina victims at the grocery store - ironically, where she was headed - and she FLIPPED OUT. She said she couldn't go, she wouldn't go.

I called her on it and told her it was absolutely ridiculous to act like she was. I have no idea if she actually went or not, but I'm venturing to believe she's living in her plastic bubble listening to "Money For Nothing" on loop.