... 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.
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