Orange you glad I didn't say yellow...

... or something to that effect.

My lips are stained orange from my fat free fruit-cicle (part of the depression diet*). While I loathe myself in these self pity moments, I can't help but think this one has sparklers coming out of its ass (the moment...not me...not the Popsicle**).

Aaron always eats the orange Popsicles so I don't have to, leaving me with my favorite fruity flavors. This is one of the reasons I married him, aside from his obviously curly hair and tight ass.

Screw it, two orange Popsicles left in the box, 54.03 days left in the depressive funk.

*The depression diet occurs when I am away from Aaron. I get really fit and only eat diet food because I feel bad for myself. I also work out a lot to kill the time. This is in contrast when we are reunited and celebrate our love with cupcakes.
**According to spellcheck, Popsicle has the P capitalized...yeah, I don't get it either.

Your love is my drug

I peered over the drapes, my eyes larger than normal. There it was, a beating human heart, squeezing curiously wondering why everyone was staring. I watched as all the blood left the patient's body, then curiously circled back, like a ride at Disneyland or something. I watched as the EKG tracing went flat and the heart stopped. I also watched as the heart quivered and returned to life, good as new. I knew the answers to the questions. I used large needles and powerful drugs. If heart surgeons are Gods, then I was freaking Cleopatra today.

Why Xanax should be OTC

I sit in the middle of an empty apartment. Exactly one year ago I was surrounded by people and my gut was filled with lonely dispare. Fast forward three hundred sixty five days and I am alone, surrounded by empty pizza boxes, my gut with empty dispare.

(*Author's note: these whiny self pity parties will cease and desist in 71 days...FYI..that would be because that is when this CRAZY JOURNEY ENDS...WOOP WOOP!).

I have begun my cardiac anesthesia rotation with a broken heart. Ironic, right?! Today's scene at the airport could have been the cliffhanger of a romantic movie-woman leaves man at the airport, tears streaming down her face. Except to paint a more realistic picture, woman cries hysterically, wiping snot and mascara everywhere.