It’s Mother’s Day and stuff. Happy it!!


Happy Mother’s Day to all my mother readers out there!!  And probably my mother because she’s reading and just won’t admit it.  I will refrain from the F-word.


Yes, I called her today.  Shut up.

So let’s dedicate this to our mom’s.  Because we are here and we live in this miserable world and it probably hurt like a bitch to get us here, so men, unless you have shit a bowling ball with a goiter and a shitty attitude, shut up.

I grew up in an earlier time.  We didn’t have cabinet door locks.  We didn’t have outlet covers.  We didn’t have little rubber thingies to wrap around the corner of the coffee table so you didn’t impale yourself on it.  Mom actually taught us stuff.

That, or she let us teach ourselves.  So let’s go with that.


  • We can’t lock the cabinet under the sink.  The trash can is there.  So is the Drano.  Bad things live under the sink.  NOTHING IN THERE IS EDIBLE!
  • Stairs are useful for getting from one floor to another.  Rolling down them, hurts.
  • Car keys DO fit in an electrical outlet.  One of the holes is a ground.  HOPE YA GET LUCKY!!
  • Perhaps sneaking in the house drunk in the middle of the night during mom and dad’s “everyone should have a gun” phase isn’t the best choice.
  • Bringing home new pieces of furniture, drunk, in the middle of the night . . . while drunk (yeah, I said that twice), you may actually get away with.  (Thanks, Darren)
  • You can get 10 times shit-faced, wrap a car around a tree and damn near kill yourself and the friend that was with you, leaving the car a twisted pile of useless metal and land you in jail.  And she will cry.  Because you are still alive.

Yeah, I know.  That was some touching stuff there at the end.

Get a tissue and shut up.


  • Weed was fun, the first few times.
  • I probably should not have gotten drunk and passed out on a 2′ wide catwalk on top of a billboard on the side of a busy highway.
  • We partied at the house when they went away for a weekend.  Which we would have got away with except for the cap to the keg she found in the azalea bushes.
  • Yes, the cops came to the house.  Yes, it was because Mr. Gilligan was an asshole.  Yes, we were smoking weed but it’s irrelevant because Mr. Gilligan was an asshole.
  • I got someone a trash can to puke in that night.  I’m not saying who but . . .  you know him.
  • Tony is a tremendously awesome dude, no matter what his prison record says!


  • You can marry whoever you want, but unless she is mom-approved, you will not last.
  • Don’t put keys in the electrical sockets.  (I’ve got a touch of gambler in me)
  • Smoking will kill you.  (I’ve stopped setting my shirts on fire)
  • You’re gonna put an eye out with that thing.

I don’t know how to be a mother.  Honestly, I don’t know how to be a father, but Anthony seems to be well adjusted.

Ok, no.  Even I’m laughing at that last statement.  And yeah, Anthony is my son’s name because he recently told me “Hey Dad, I’m over the whole ‘Tiger’ bullshit.”

He’s as well adjusted as one can be around my dad, and given that, that dude can survive ANYTHING!

Anyway, this is about mom . . . mom’s.  Chicks who have given birth to little, tiny, cute, funny  . . . .


Celebrate all the things that you love about your mom today.

Celebrate the fact that she never killed you.

And know, when you call her and she answers the phone with “how much do you need?” . . .she’s just bein’ mom.

I love you, Mom!

$200 and I’m good.  I swear.

To all my friends that are mom’s . . . remember us when we were that age.  Don’t kill them.

Well, don’t kill them a lot.


Facebook post of the day:

For Mother’s Day:




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