The mom that likes to party can be commonly found in her natural environment, the indoor inflatable playground at the mall. Like everyone else, she sees the clumps of bacteria crawling, breeding, and drooling on every surface, but unlike these other fools, the mom that likes to party doesn’t give a fuck about a cold virus. She’s rocking a pair of supertight Juicy Couture sweatpants, texting  on an eight year-old flip phone in a rhinestone-encrusted case, and scaring the shit out of everyone in that joint, from the slovenly, disoriented-looking dads in mustard-stained knit polos who feel intimidated by her, to the uptight moms in B-Reps apparel that somehow lost its sexiness in the transition from the store mannequin to their own icy tundra of unsexable exurban ass, who feel threatened by her.  

Thanks to a handful of seldom-used numbers in her phone, the mom that likes to party hasn’t paid for weed in years. She’s got a tattoo of the Tasmanian Devil, and the dudes to whom those seldom-used numbers belong have all seen it a few times. The mom that likes to party has stilted, awkward exchanges with the other parents at her kid’s school sometimes, and she knows it’s because they’ve privately discussed whether she’d be amenable to a threesome. The mom that likes to party would have a much less vibrant social life if her kid weren’t such a sound sleeper.   

When she’s off work, the mom that likes to party dresses however she wants, because she spends her days toughing it out in an office with a policy mandating heels and skirts for female employees. She works a lot, saving her sick days for when her kid pukes at school, but burns occasional vacation days sitting by the pool at her apartment complex surreptitiously pouring Malibu rum into a Big Gulp while reading A Confederacy of Dunces behind a pair of dark glasses. Yeah, motherfucker, A Confederacy of fucking Dunces. There are a number of reasons she didn’t finish college, but lack of brains is not one of them. Her kid’s smart, too, you know. He’s nine now, and has already surpassed his father in terms of adult decision-making capabilities. He’s a little dude, though; gets his ass kicked at school a lot, and part of the reason the mom that likes to party has developed a policy of taking absolutely zero shit from anyone is that she hopes it will rub off on him. Despite having been let down countless times by countless people in her life, the mom that likes to party holds fast to a belief in the basic honesty and good in us all, because those qualities exist so strongly within her. Oh, I almost forgot: the mom that likes to party is wearing a nicotine patch on her upper arm in full view of everyone, so if you’re thinking of approaching her, your opening line had better consist of something more substantial than asking if you can bum a cigarette.


1 Response to “od/ad/ed”

  1. 1 Weston Sythoff
    June 8, 2011 at 1:29 pm

    it’s funny: this is both the funniest and most poignant piece i’ve yet read. huzzah, sir. and go mavs, eh?

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