Only seven more months until summer.
Dooce also begins with a D.
I don’t know anyone with a birthday in December, and so I can’t forget any of those birthdays.
Those mittens without fingers.
The bounteous multitude of green M&M’s.
In the spirit of the season, my sister usually forgives me of my sins and lets me hold her babies.
Babies.
Exploitative Baby Gap� ads.
Disturbing claymation Christmas specials.
All that snuggling.
Every movie studio releases all potential Oscar contenders in one short two-week span. It’s like a national film festival right at your local film house.
I can call anyone a Ho! and no one will think I’m doing anything but spreading holiday cheer.
I’m reminded annually that I never have to take another mid-term or final examination ever again for as long as I motherfucking live.
