Jeez louise, Greg!

Greg, it's Jen Jarett. (I'm putting my name at the beginning, because I'm under the impression that these notes are going to be read to you, and if you don't know who's saying stuff until the end, it will have to be read to you twice, and I'm not that great of a writer to warrant that.) So what's up? Oh, I kid. I've heard some of what's going on, and you sound like you're in worse shape than the day after we crashed that bn.com party that was held in the office, and we were all way too hungover to go into work and instead had breakfast at L'Express and went to Central Park and just lay in the grass and stared up at the clouds. You probably don't remember this at all, but I still have The Black Box, the All-New Cockpit Voice Recorder Accounts of In-flight Accidents that you gave me. I came back to my desk one day and it was sitting on my chair. I tried to figure out who might have given it to me, and you weren't at the top of the list because our friendship was pretty nascent, and you had so many friends already, I figured if you found such a gem, there's no way I would get it. When I found out you had given it to me, I was thrilled not only that you gave me something, but that you gave me something that so many people would have loved, but you knew just how much I would appreciate it. I can still remember you reading aloud from it, and the vigor with which you sang, "Whoop, whoop." (I'm not supposed to pretend that you don't have a dark, twisted, and wonderfully sarcastic sense of humor just because you're in the hospital, right?) I haven't opened the book since that day, but I've kept it all this time because it was a moment that made me really happy. And you haven't given me anything in so long, you have to get better so you can do so again. That's right, this is all about me. But even if I wasn't looking for another gift, I'd still want you to get better, so please do so, and soon. Love, me