O is for olive.

I've all but abandoned my three-olive martini in favor of cleaner living, a pair of words that quite frankly gives me the creepy-crawlies. I am utterly uninterested in living, either cleanly or not, and so with sadness and sorrow both I smuggled empty liquor bottles from the office, filled my moleskine with a never ending list of things eaten and drank, laced up my running shoes and ran for the hills. These days my wine comes in grape form, my mint juleps all mint and no julep. I preferred it when I was coughing up blood.