yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


my grammys house always smells like chicken broth and she always tries to feed me red hots. i end up drinking lots of wine and watching the golden girls with her. she has a cat named fluffy and a billion pictures of me. her walls are like brilliant time lines that date back fifty years. when my grandfather was alive, there was so much life in the house it had a yellow glow and was filled with piano music or songs by AC/DC on the accordian. to this house i owe a great deal of what i know. it tucked me in and kept my feet warm when i went to the bathroom during the night. it opened presents with me at christmas and searched for easter eggs. it blew my nose and found my chapstick.
d-land