So. Upon reflection, lasting about 12.5 seconds, I find that the whole November is NaBloPoMo thing to have been a real flop. I don't think it did anything to improve my writing style, which remains scattered and pedantic, if grammatically precise. I don't think it made me funnier; I'm only consistently funny to myself, anyway. And my sister. She digs me. I was so relieved when the month was over, that I've written relatively few posts this month, although I continue to check my blog-stalking victims pretty regularly for their humor-y goodness.
I think next November I'll actually opt for some of that adoption stuff. Or even the diabetes.
See, now I'm going to get hate mail or lose followers or something because I'm having a tantrum about doing stuff that no one remotely required me to do, and being flippant about things that are important to other people.
This leads me to my next personal issue: the need for no one important to me to ever be angry at me. It's a hard life, and I compensate for that by usually having a job wherein I piss of relative strangers on a daily basis. I'm sublimating my personal needs in that way. I think. Maybe I just enjoy tormenting recent acquaintances to see if they keep coming back for more.
There must be a certification board for that somewhere.