Sordid lives

I have a glass front door; in fact, a large portion of my house is made of glass. Life is one of involuntary exhibitionism, and a constantly clothed state, or darkness. Just now I was passing the door, and therefore had to open it, to a squat man shorter then me, who said nothing but "From the Treasury", handing me a huge brown envelope. The envelope is addressed to my dad and contains something of indescribable, three-dimensional shape.



Another thing you'd like to know about life in my house is I found a pair of pants in my "slut box" (which is basically a trunk with my underwear in but it also contains half my clubbin' gear hahaha) that are a thong, made of cheap grey striped jersey and say in pink letters "If ur seeing this you're a lucky fella!". All fitted neatly into the centre of the crotch!
Anyway I'm pretty sure they're not my brothers so they must be my mum's?

ps: I tried to find a photo of my mum to go with this, but a quick google later reveals she shares her name with an obviously better-known African-American news reader and: