since you've been gone

when vanessa and zhi and carmina and marc and i lived at clipper street, we fought tooth and nail to get a $40 check for some broken pint glasses when our cabinetry dislodged itself from the kitchen's cheap guatemalan drywall and crashed onto the floor in what can only be described as the most intensly horrifying domestic accident since the oj simpson murders. and now? the new motherfuckers get this:

this man appears to be painting the inside of a door whose function is containing the smelly garbage cans that formerly lived in the walkway between the outside and inside of our house. HOW FUCKING NOVEL.