It seems like I'm constantly telling people not to send out email warnings that are forwarded to them. Here's a good example of what could happen to someone who does...

She meant well. That's what Rose Lambert tells herself every morning when her e-mail folder begins to bulge with missives from around the globe, and she starts to slip again into her deep, private hell.

Six months ago, Lambert earnestly forwarded an e-mail to 100 friends and colleagues, warning of a health risk posed by HIV-tainted needles allegedly affixed to the underside of gas pump handles.

Horrified by the story -- which a colleague had sent her -- Lambert wanted to put out the word.

Now she's sorry she did.

The report turns out to be a hoax -- one of those urban legends that scatter like buckshot across the Internet. But Lambert, chief aide to Fairfax County Supervisor Gerald W. Hyland, didn't know that. And now her e-mail has spread faster than a head cold at a day-care center -- given added gravitas, perhaps, because her name and government title were forwarded right along with the warning.

She's heard from people as far away as East Asia, wading through as many as 30 e-mails a day and responding to each with an apology and a retraction.

"It's been the bane of my existence, my worst nightmare," said Lambert, adding that she's even fielded calls at home. "You wouldn't believe the response -- India. Australia. Washington State. They all want to know, 'Is it true?' I can tell you, after this experience, if the sky is ever falling, no one will hear it from me."

That's mild comfort for Lambert's boss, a patient man who groans, only half-jokingly, about the "infamous" e-mail that has turned his life upside down.

"I can't tell you how many calls I've received," said Hyland (D-Mount Vernon), whose name was listed in the e-mail as part of Lambert's job title. "I get them at my house. I get them at my office. I get them at the county board. . . . I wish I was kidding."

Lambert received the e-mail in December, a piece of scrap in the vast electronic junkyard that is the World Wide Web. Regrettably, she says now, she removed the letter's forwarding markers and unintentionally put her name at the bottom, making it appear that she was the author.

It took less than a day for Lambert to learn of her mistake: A county police officer on her e-mail list set her straight. She immediately e-mailed a correction.

No good.

"I guess it was too late," she explains in a form letter she e-mails daily to curious correspondents. "Now six months later, this is still circulating. Again, please accept my sincerest apology and do not forward this to anyone else."

But the inquiries keep coming. The fax machine churns. The phone rings so often that the receptionist screens Lambert's calls by asking, "Is this about the e-mail?"

Yesterday, there was a note from a woman in Southern California who said she saw a similar report on the local news. Two more e-mails appeared in Lambert's in-box as she was being interviewed for this article.

Why? Because the message -- which begins "SADLY, THIS IS NOT A JOKE!!!!!!!!!!" -- is still making the rounds. Yesterday, it made its way into the electronic mailboxes of 30 employees of Inova Health System.

With the exception of Lambert, no one would like the gas pump legend to vanish more than the Jacksonville, Fla., sheriff's department, where the warning allegedly originated. The department was deluged with inquiries -- about 1,200 last year after word started to spread in June.

"It was no fun," Deputy Sheriff John Turner said yesterday, expressing relief that "you're only the second call we've had this year."

As for Lambert, she's basically over the embarrassment. Now she just wants some peace.

"This is now the story of my life," she said, defeat in her tone. "I can't wait until it's over. I may have to die first."