All Things Profane and Sacred

This is why I hate calling home-

So I called my mom's the other day to wish my baby brother a happy 20th birthday (and tell him his present would be late). I get my mom first, who tells me about all the doom and gloom that has befallen the family since the last time I yakked at them (to give credit, it was an impressively long list). Then she said, "You really need to lecture your brother. He's been smoking meth."

WTF? At what point do you decide it's a really good idea to start smoking meth? Are you like, "Gee, I need a new hobby. I think I'll do something that will suck all my money out of the bank and reduce me to a toothless hillbilly who subsists by stealing cars and licking lint off the sidewalk." So, like a good big sister, I told him I was going to fly out there and break his little meth smoking fingers if he didn't immediately desist. Then I expounded on this theme by letting him know that he didn't need to lose his teeth due to massive meth consumption, they could just as easily be removed by my fist hitting his mouth. That's just the sort of afterschool special relationship we have.