What's up Groupthink. Won't you join me yet again for another edition of my yearly trade deadline flu? Yes, that's right. I've put on my best sick voice for my boss, I have half of a Veal Parmigiana sandwich and half of a Meatball sandwich in the fridge. The sodastream is full and the room is quiet because my boyfriend has either left for work or died of severe eyeroll-itis. I've got my tablet, phone, laptop plugged into various social media sites and two different TVs tuned to the 18 hours of total coverage on the two major sports networks.

So come, folks, feel free to ask me anything you want to about hockey trades or something to momentarily distract me from the relatively minor hockey trades that will happen today as I do my best to pretend that my life isn't deeply, deeply ridiculous.