Hey y’all! MockMama here to share all about the holiday festivities that me and the fam partook in.
First, let me tell you a few deets I’m sure you didn’t know. Most people think that Jesus is the reason for the season, but that isn’t accurate. It isn’t. While Jesus forgives me for all the shit I do, He isn’t the reason so many celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah. What is the reason? Love? Commercialism? Prime rib? NO. Christmas is a time when people get together to worship ME. Really. I’m not kidding. Every year my husband and brood of kids, Footlong and 6-inch, erect a 10-foot tree statue in my honor. Festooned with hundreds of tiny twinkling lights and ornaments to boot the tree, formally known as The Fuckingly Spectacular Annual Tribute To Her Holiness MockMama And Her Blessed Uterus, graces our living quarters as a living reminder that I am the most awesome, most coveted woman alive.
Since Footlong and 6-inch are 7 and 17 months respectively I decided that they were old enough to know the truth about Santa Claus. Cry they did until I demanded they suck it up and not shirk their duties in giving me presents. My husband told me that we didn’t have alot of money this year to spend on gifts because of our financial obligations. I about shit myself laughing when he said that. I told my husband, “Don’t use big words that you don’t understand! You had better get me something nice or else I will chuck it at your balding head.”
December 25th, henceforth known as MockMama Day, arrived and I excitedly woke the boys at 3:30 am and took them into the living room so they could present me with gifts. Footlong proudly presented me with a smartphone he had fashioned from a spool of thread, smoked Gouda cheese, a 9-V battery, 2 CDs, and a digital thermometer. That boy is so brilliant. I turned to the less brilliant baby and demanded my gift; he smiled and looked at me with confusion and wonderment to boot as he made baby sounds and tried to hug me. Are you kidding me, I yelped. You’re just going to give me love? I wanted a present. I had to fetch the wooden spatula and spank his bediapered ass.
At last I turned to my husband ready to receive my gift, a gift to end all gifts I was sure. He sheepishly smiled and presented me with a Hermes Birkin bag, and I knew then from the $20,000 price tag that he loved and feared me. Footlong began to joyfully cry, “Mama, what did you get us? Where are our presents?” I smiled and passed out their presents. I watched the look of pure wonderment on their faces as they unwrapped sweatshirts with the Acme RubberBand logo and a coupon for 50% off their shipment of rubber bands if they sign up for autoship and become a distributor.
Preparations to prepare our holiday feast were mine as I scooted about the kitchen in my yoga pants and a hot pink pup tent. The meal was fantastic. My charming family had Tofurkey with blueberry and black bean stuffing, a quinoa salad with tuna, blackeyed peas, lime juice, cilantro, and homemade Skippy peanut butter, baby carrots with cream cheese frosting, leftover scrambled eggs with kale salsa, kefir, and a hummus torte. As I sat and stuffed myself merrily with 3 McRibs, fries, and a 5-gallon bucket of M&Ms, I couldn’t help but think about how fucking wonderful I am for giving my family a holiday to remember. Afterwords we piled into our RV, located and pushed the GO button, and set out on an afternoon drive that would span 17 states in 4 days.
And how did you spend your holidays? Shoot me a message and tell me the deets and I’ll enter you for a drawing where you can win a personalized rubber band! These bands are something else. A Facebook friend of mine had Type 1 Diabetic Cancer, and she is now in remission! I have lost 200 lbs using these rubber bands. The bands have also cured eczema, erectile dysfunction (isn’t that right, my husband?), dry skin, migraines, depression, boredom, toxic megacolon, MRSA, homosexuality, and drug addiction. Order today and I’ll send you a personalized email with your name (limit 1 per household) and an autographed photo (just pay a processing fee). Talk soon!
This is a really shitty, grammatically incorrect work of fiction. Footlong and 6-inch still believe in Santa Claus. J got me a $25 pair of headphones for Christmas because I hate wearing ear buds. We own a Nissan Maxima, not a RV. And the meal…..do you think I’d “cook” that shit for anyone, much less my own family? No, no I wouldn’t. J doesn’t have ED.