The funniest people are the saddest ones

It’s like they were worried that I’d be alone all day brooding and painting my cabin black or something—sheesh.

Lipstick?" He arched a brow.
"I'm on the hunt for my perfect shade," I respond, deadpan.
"Ditch the magenta. Your olive skin screams for rose." His deadpan is better than mine.

There are moments in life where I wonder whether things can get worse. I'm on a plane, with my new husband, whose enthusiasm for this whole thing seems to be flagging, and it's in this deep moment of self-pity that I register–with absolute horror–that I've also just started my period.

I look down at my white jeans and stifle a sob...

This is my depressed stance. When you're depressed, it makes a lot of difference how you stand. The worst thing you can do is straighten up and hold your head high because then you'll start to feel better. If you're going to get any joy out of being depressed, you've got to stand like this.

She smirks."Are you attempting to stop me, little one?"
"Excuse me? Did you just call me 'little one'? What are you? Like, four feet tall?" I ask.