I've always wanted to be the coolest girl at Springfield-Franconia

On my way home for Christmas, my brother picked me up at the train station in his bright green Ford Mustang with firefighter plates. I didn't even know firefighters had special license plates, but they do. I was definitely the coolest girl at the Springfield-Franconia Metro stop.

I forget what model of Mustang my brother has, but he explained that he had to get that one because he didn't fit in the others. (My brother weighs approximately 2.5 times my weight, which is kind of a genetic freakshow. I mean, we're definitely related, but what the hell?)

On an unrelated note, my mother actually remarked, out of nowhere:

"The problem with potpourri is there's just no way to dust it."