a WTF coffee table trilogy: item one
begging the questions “is that how you spell brooches?” and “who cares about brooches?” i bring you the first item from my mother’s collection of things on coffee tables that seem like they where here when my parents moved in and for one reason or another never thrown away.
no, my mother is not eighty and she has not traveled to the present day from victorian-era great britian. she just likes brooches. so back off.