So, yeah, Mother’s Day is just around the corner, except that, Mother is actually 5,286.4 miles away in Las Fuckin’ Vegas baby, and yet I still feel honor bound to be all nicety-nice and send her the requisite cards despite it all. Mostly from the two kids, cuz we made it very clear that through this all she was still their Mom, and that would never change, yada yada yada, and so I had them sign a couple of mushy-gooshy cards. Yes, I even sent one myself. I guess I’m constitutionally incapable of being that much of an asshole. Although you might want to get a second opinion on that from, you know, her.
Imagine the challenge of finding a card of appropriate vagueness and neutrality such that I could wish her a happy Mom’s Day while avoiding the requisite fawning adoration Hallmark and their ilk seem to think is somehow appropriate for this day. Sheesh. Lemmings.
And I DID find one, lo and behold. Probably one designed for the reluctantly-tolerated mother-in-law type, or the mom who leaves her teenage kids and her husband to pursue some whimsical vision quest while telling said husband, “I love you, I’m just not IN love with you.” Or words to that effect. I probably translated it more closely to, “Fuck you, I’m outta here. Loser.” But, I might have just had a bad, pirated copy of Rosetta Stone or something.
But I’m not bitter. No, really, it says right here. See? “Not. Bitter.”
So for all you mothers out there, I hope you get delightful, mushy-gooshy cards from all your friends and family. And for all you crazy meddling mothers-in-law or wives who hary off on a wild mid-life crisis in Las Vegas, I hope whatever card you get is written on the back of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese box, addressed in hastily scrawled pencil to,”Occupant.”
Again, most decidedly NOT BITTER! Shut up.