What a beautiful vase. It was sitting there in all its glory just ten minutes ago until I heard this crash and shatter while sitting in my room, and a hundred little glass marbles rolling around on the glass dining table. The sibling and the younger cousin were flinging around this Pokemon plush with a rubber band and hit the flowers, sending the vase crashing to its death.
Upon the noise of its untimely death, everybody including my aunt and grandmother, rushed to see what all the [understated] hubbub was all about. My mother screams, "WHO BROKE THE VASE, WHO BROKE THE VASE?!" Just seeing the side of her face from standing some distance behind her, I could tell her eyes were like dinner plates. Dinner plates of demonic fury, she was that angry. But then again, how could she not? (I would probably be beating some fucktard ass by then, but only for a bigger punishment; if I were in her shoes.) The sibling modestly raises her hand upon my mother's questioning and you could see that she was going to erupt into a pussy volcano; Pussy volcano as in a volcano that excretes water rather than chili.
Luckily enough for her, my mom just dismissed her and she continued on her way running to the bedroom while my mother, in despair, hesitated to clean up the remnants of a once gorgeous vase that I personally admired so much too.
She got it off very lucky. Extremely lucky. Had it been me at ten years of age I would've gotten the shit kicked out of me upon instant of finding out who the perpetrator is, probably with something like this:
Well not exactly, but a stick somewhere around that size. That thing is authentic to tell you the truth. An authentic model that my mom bought from Disney World many years ago. I'm very proud of it and sometimes I wish I could hang it up in my room being that I use(d) it the most. I used to chase my sister around the house with it whenever she tried to put her cat-like fangs onto my youthful skin in all its shining glory. And the method worked too. It was the only thing besides a knife that would scare her off, because I didn't eat toast that much to utilize the fear of a knife very often.
These pictures were taken last week but I've been going through a dryspell for stories for ya'll kindling, so here they are now.
Large over-sized flower arrangement that's hanging in the stairwell leading to the basement. The flowers remind me of vaginas.
Is that a ghost? I'm fucking serious what the fuck is that white blurry mist in the corner? And why the fuck is it so close to me?
Basement where we perform sexual favors for needy people. All the way on the left corner where you can't really see is a bathroom. All the way forward in the back is another, rather large bedroom. We'll get there later.
Flower arrangement on the alter that situates behind the white door on the right, the one with the sun shining on it. I know, I know. Red candles don't match but it's not my fucking alter.
Where big hesitant-to-die babies are skewered with rakes to tumble around in amongst the embers. There's a bong on the top mantelpiece next to the japanese lamp.
Would you like some entrail fluid for tea time?
My dad emptied out half of this mini Heineken-and-beverages-only fridge.
Other side of the main basement, where the large entertainment system is. Laundry room door is on the right.
Where my dirty underwear is cleaned.
This looks like a porno movie set. Bright pink carpet and aqua blue sheets and mirrored walls deep in the depths of my New Jersey suburban home. Absolutely, perfectly normal to have in every house.
Where my dad edits the films, this is to the right of the previous picture.
Movie set included with kinky plants and all.
The sperm arrangement, I like to call this one. Our basement is full of nasty things.
This one, however, a picture taken so shittily by me, turns me off.
Banana plant that yields no bananas, meaning neither term.
POTTY
SINK
When my grandpa used to live here he remodeled the entire basement - put wood panneling on the walls, remade the empty Home Depot-like bedroom into a porno palace and the bathroom into a shit sanctuary. He even put all the carpeting in. All by himself.
There's a shelf in the bathroom that has a funky vase with a fern sitting on top of it. I like it very much for some reason. So much that I used flash to take this picture.
Living room in the daytime.
Flower arrangement that I don't like all that much which is sitting in the far corner of the living room by the up-lamp.
Other side of the living room, with my father's camera equipment on the floor in front of the television setting.
Coconut tree that yields no coconuts but has a bunch of monkeys living around it.
The Asian Crematorium For American Infants
Funeral flowers on top of The Asian Crematorium For American Infants
Bamboo tree in the dining room that yields no pandas.
The stretcher for in case any white supremacists who knock on the door claiming that they are Jehovah's Witnesses.
This sucks up lice from our heads when we are cooking on the stove.
But these go to eleven.
With the gun and the other weird things that we have in our house, I could imagine this thing holding somebody's hand and forearm someday. Or maybe a penis or two.
FUCK SHOES
Granny panties hanging in the upstairs bathroom like Shaquille O'Neal's bed sheet.
It looks like a certain fancy-pelted animal was just slaughtered here. I sleep in it, as a matter of fact.
My final project for art class, Mick Jagger linoleum prints.
Close-up of the top left one. Not my greatest project, being that I made his mouth look like a giant ox tongue by accident while carving the linoleum.
Summer reading. Stupid fuckers. I probably won't finish them and therefore not make it into the class. They can suck my ass anyway for all I care.
MFC
My parents' room has a tiny little water fountain, possibly inspired by either Beauty and the Beast or that old kid show Gargoyles.
Poor little guy obviously isn't feeling well, to be puking twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Even on Easter Sunday.
I tried to console him out of his misery.
But then he puked out cum or whatever the hell that is.
Marhsmallow lamp.
This is how my mom scares me into not poking through her beauty/makeup drawers.
We hide foreign immigrants in our closets. I scared this one and its child quite a bit when taking this picture. I guess australians are very shy.
Christina N. @ 2:29 PM
