Three is the lucky number.

It was Sunday night (yesterday). I have on my raggedy sweats and my hair is pulled back way tight with some obscure bumps and knots woven in on the surface.

I'll spare you some insignificant details but let's just say I definitely am not looking my best when a few of my guy friends burst into my door for visiting hours.

And as if my looks aren't enough to embarrass me, I'm also sprawled out at my desk, consumed in a copy of Chicken Soup: for the College Soul.

No one admits that they actually read that. (At least no one cool.) Crap.

Third embarrassment: I'm also crying at the story I'm reading about Chucky Mullins from Ole Miss, a football star turned paraplegic. And I mean totally bawling, totally weeping, for all my friends to see.

Just great.

I might as well have wet the bed.

Well.....ya.