who loves you. who brought you into this world. who is probably worrying about you as she brags about you.
this is monday night and if you’re like me you dont live with your momma any more. you live away from her. and if youre really like me you live far away from her… unfortunately.
which is why now is the time to get on amazon or tiffany.com (i wish) or ftd.com or wherever you do your mother’s day shopping and get on the ball, like im fixin to. not just because your momma deserves it, but if you do it now you wont have to pay all that extra cash to the fed ex man, you can, instead give it to the woman who carried you around in her belly for nearly a year. and then wiped your ass. and then put up with your shit.
my mom was the perfect mother. she paid attention to me and she left me alone. she tried to raise me right and didnt freak out much when i rebelled. she cleaned my room. she bought me drums. she bought me a saxamaphone. she bought me a guitar.
she drove me to every baseball football basketball soccer cub scout bowling softball hockey and rollerskating event that mr or mrs downing couldnt drive us to.
she taught me about computers she taught me about the russians she taught me how to play piano (pictured) she taught me how to sew and she taught me how to fry an egg in bacon grease.
in the mornings she would often pick out my afro and at night she would listen to me go on about whatever nonsense i was into as i would shoot nerf hoops in her bedroom.
and she had to deal with my sister. which shes still dealing with.
life isnt fair which is why she wasnt given millions when she was forced to take an early retirement at motorola after working there for a hundred thousand years. life isnt fair which is why she had a slacker son who should have definately bought her that house on the hill by now.
and Lord knows life isnt fair which is why of all the blogs in the world her son had to be the author of the sometimes disgusting, never spell checked, often insane if not drunk, all too honest for being totally fake, busblog.
how many nights does she click around the web and ask herself, “why couldnt my son have been matt welch instead?”
because then you couldnt brag about your boy’s crossover dribble.
so do your mom a favor and do yourself a favor and go over to wherever you get the crap that you get your mom and get it right now. as in right now. as in right now. not later. now. now fucker. dude you can even pack your mom her own sees candies.
so go now. kbye.