someone found my blog by googling "mama is happy." whoever you are, you have made it so. mama is happy, yo. & thank you.
mama got a nice prezzie. it was like a dick in a box. maybe it was a box. maybe it was a dick. maybe it was a dick in a box and not just like it. maybe it had nothing to do with dicks and boxes and dicks in boxes and boxes that want dicks and dicks that want boxes. mama's not telling but mama's very happy, yo.
if you know mama, you know why mama's happy. uber-yo.
mama's calling out the peeps that need to be called out. maybe they're writing-writers. maybe they got clout. mama doesn't care cos mama's happy.
mama woke up one morning and her glasses were snapped in half under her pillow & she was all alone. no lie. it was a symbol. duh.
mama thinks duh to the peeps she hasn't called out cos she hasn't thought about calling them out til now & she may call them out but mama may be too happy to call them out.
mama thinks uber-duh to the peeps who circle jerk that she's already called out. duh, to your deep brain things that you get off on typey-typey on the interwebs duh to the fact that you think therefore you is duh to the fact that you're unhappy cos you're living your life to live life like it's supposed to be lived according to no one but yourself and everyone else who has decided to not live their lives the way their lives are supposed to be lived.
duh. mama's happy, yo.