Further proof that my mother has no idea who I am:

These socks that she purchased for me for Halloween. This year. My THIRTY-SEVENTH year. Thinking that I might actually wear them. You know, to be wacky: What this photo (taken with my ever-increasingly-obsolete 3.2 megapixel piece o'shite digital camera) fails to do justice to is the little pom-pom balls around the ankle area. They are covered in gold mylar that sticks out like the hairs from a mole.

Hot.