"We are just breakable girls and boys."

Think of the Noshville Delicatessen, and picture the perfect the egg-over-easy: soft in the middle with the white fried all the way around. I will always secretly call eggs over easy "dippy eggs," (in the same way that putt-putt is known to me as "goofy golf").

The "dippy egg" is a word picture that I use to explain just how delicate the heart is.  There's a thin layer that keeps the inners of our hearts from spilling all over, and when that layer is pierced, we get messy.

I've seen so much mess this week.  My first sorority party lived up to every stereotype; if the couple in my direct line of sight hadn't been wearing clothes, they would have been making babies (to the tune of Justin Bieber's "Baby") on the dance floor.  I "Fox on Demanded" after a morning at the Country Music Marathon and caught the latest episode of Glee, where half of the characters debated "losing the V card" with a Madonna soundtrack to empower them.  Frannie's CNN article is still creating a TV movie of her life, and I've been SO surprised by some naysayers' reactions.  Really, people?

Do we know that our hearts are so fragile? Do we act with care when handling others' hearts? Why does every third woman that I meet seem to be in immediate danger of letting her heart spill all over the plate?