The Prince and I have the same birthday, except he is older, which means we would have been the perfect couple. Today, I am in mourning. Except not really, because now he is bald. The me-of-twelve-years-ago is in mourning. This means she must write terrible terrible prose, describing nothing at all.
And now that I'm completely bunny-trailed, I would like to make a PSA: Christmas is on a Saturday this year. That means it's a double-holiday. Woot!