It’s officially December, which means two things: no more NaNoWriMo (I’m kinda sad to see it go, really), and the birthday of the Imperial Princess of Cute — happy birthday, Mari!!!

Other than that, I hate December. The “holiday season” (and its attendant conspicuous consumerism) does not inspire within me thoughts of peace on Earth & goodwill toward mankind, but rather extremely gory & violent homicidal fantasies. The weather is crappy and the traffic is ugly, which encourages one to stay indoors, but then again…the weather is crappy and the traffic is ugly, so any day you have to leave your domicile is pretty much a bad day!

The demonspawn are going to the Panic! At The Disco concert tonight, so I get to be the Mom Taxi…whee, or something. At least they provide me with a steady source of entertainment — although I absolutely cannot understand why an 18-year-old feels the need to confirm that she can still fit inside the dryer.

Oh, that’s right, I remember now — it’s just another example of what I’ve been saying for years now, that “eighteenandstupid” is one word!