This is how the world ends:

Seventy-seven degrees. The entirety of America watching their various watches, clocks, falling globes. Alone, eating food left over from Christmas and staring through the dark, at the trees limned by exploding fireworks at a party to which you weren't invited.

That's a little over-dramatic, for a first post.

I went to Nicki's, went to Sterling's. My parents were, conveniently, an hour and a half late. Almost made it to midnight, but they're just so old.

Did you catch the bitter note there? Thought not.

First act of the new year: watch Buffy season one.
I'll do that now.