>> Psychiatrists Top List in Drug Maker Gifts. This kind of thing makes me embarrassed to be a psychiatrist. I’m glad that the Times is publishing this information—transparency is good and should be encouraged—and it’s painful to read. Many of us in the younger crew view Big Pharma with a disdain that borders on disgust, but how are other people supposed to know this? Average newspaper readers may now believe that I’m a skanky whore for Big Pharma upon learning my profession. I could prattle on, but I won’t.

>> Mr. Bento Porn. I have been using a Mr. Bento for the past few months; it’s a fantastic lunch box for those of us who are a bit obsessive. I, however, am not as committed as the members of the Mr. Bento Porn group—I usually just slop food into the containers and eat. I’m too utilitarian about it: “I’m gonna eat the food anyway; why bother making it look pretty?” I will concede, however, that some of the arrangements in the group are really cute.

>> Dr. Charles Takes a Break. I was going to pen a sappy eulogy to commemorate his wonderful writing, but objections were made (hooray for passive voice!). He was my literary medblogging buddy (here comes the cheese)—I shall miss his lyrical prose, tomato contests, and charming dorkiness (hablo solamente la verdad!).

>> Cancer, The Crab. I don’t actually read horoscopes.

>> i heart guts! Cute renditions of human organs and groan-worthy puns (”I’m a liver, not a fighter!”).

>> How to Be a Ninja. I love the backdrop of the Christmas tree. I’d like to show up at work one day as a ninja, but I don’t think that’d go over very well. (”That’s DOCTOR Ninja to you!”)