Our Mothers, Our Hells…

Don’t get me wrong. I love my Mom.  She’s a great lady who does stuff like lead rites, and usher souls off into the next world.  She’s not a witch (well not very often), she’s a Pastor — we call her the Reverend Mother (the Rev for short).  As much as I love my Mom (and kind of geniunely believe that if I piss her off enough she’ll make Jesus turn me into a toad), she still drives me fucking crazy.  It’s like  all mothers have this genetic imperative that requires them to MAKE DAMNED SURE that their daughters never get anything even approximating a swelled head.  Here’s a conversation with their mother that an RCS’er recently reported:

Mom: Wow, you sure are doing a good job at losing the baby weight.  I wanted to reward you so I bought you this shirt.  It’s a 3xL and I got it at the fat girl store.  Think it’ll fit?

RCS’er: Thanks.  Wow.  Just thanks.

No matter what, as long as they’re alive, your mother is there for you.  Any time you do anything close to what you might call pretty good (like graduating from college), your mom will HELP YOU OUT by reminding you of the time you crashed your Mazda into a bus load of school children.  Don’t worry about getting self esteem.  Your mom’s got your back.

Sirrah and I talked about this the other day:

me: Dude, yesterday I got pervved on by this old motherfucker named Larry when I was out at the lake with the dogs. I was telling my mom about it and she says:
               “Well, has he ever seen you naked?”
                me: “WHAT?!? NO!”
                Mom: “How do you know?”

               me: “Because I haven’t been sitting around naked at the lake, Mother.”
She looks at me skeptically
              me: “Look, lady, I have the tan lines to prove it.

Fucking CRAZY!

Sirrah: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

me: I know!  Why are parents such weirdbags?

Sirrah: Drugs?

me: HA HA HA!  Yeah, I guess this would be the “problem with pot” that they kept alluding to in high school.  I wish they could have been more specific.  How hard is it just to say, “Look, kid, if you smoke pot, someday you will ask your children stupid questions about nudity.  It’s your choice.”?

Sirrah:  Hahahahahahaha!  Somehow, though, I just think that they get to a point where they think it’s okay to ask their kids about these things.  It IS NOT OKAY!

me:  She justified asking me this because ONE TIME TWO YEARS AGO WHEN NO ONE WAS AROUND, I took my niece skinny dipping.  We were TOTALLY COVERED BY WATER LIKE 98% of the damned time, and it was only ONE TIME!

Sirrah: Oh my God! 

me:  It’s like their elephant memories are only accurate for things like nudity and drunkeness, and the time you crashed your car into a school bus.  Good things, like graduating from college, are completely forgotten as soon as they get done being congratulated for your accomplishment and drinking all your hooch.

Sirrah:  Sounds about right.  My Mom is the same way.  She still talks about showing horses.

me: MY Mom still talks about me pooping in my Grandma’s closet when I was two.  Because clearly, I peaked early.

So, if you have a friend (and we know you do because EVERY MOTHER IN THE WORLD DOES THIS SHIT) that could use a pick up after a mom-related throw down, the RCS has a solution for you.  We’ve created this greeting card:

You can buy it here: http://www.zazzle.com/awesome_card-137170735675787318.  You should probably get like 50.  You know this shit’s gonna come up.


About rubberchickensociety

The Rubber Chicken Society is a loosely knit collective of free thinkers who support and enjoy chicken related humor.
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