braceface.

my mother stopped by the house today. out of the kindness of her more than generously sized heart she decided to wage a full on war against the filth in which her two sons + t. porter reside. she had the day off work. she had many objections upon entrance and a proper look around. among the most pressing were:

a christmas tree, a bottle of whiskey that looked like a molotov had been attempted, my shower, and a wide array of fireworks both real and cheap chinese.

sometimes you find long since forgotten objects behind a 4 month old christmas tree. this includes sounds that will forever remind me of the number 280 and a place called space.







*she also drank tom's beer.