What am I doing? Oh, not much. Just grinding glass to put in your mother’s coffee. Like she likes it.
If you’re going to insist on having your mother over, I’m going to insist that she instead doesn’t come over and stays at home alone until she dies and her cats eat her face. Which is very unattractive, by the way.
[mother-in-law enters room, man pulls down pants, inserts middle finger into his butt, it gets all poopy, then he displays it in “fuck you” fashion to mother-in-law]
Dinner with your mother? Sounds great. By the way, I just found out I have a hole the size of a plum in my brain. Which I made by just pressing a screwdriver in my ear until I passed out. And then I forgot a lot of stuff, which is why I just found out my brain is broked and why I like your mom even a little.
Do you ever fantasize about your mom being in a car accident where she gets impaled by a bunch of rebar that flies off a truck and then she looks like a steampunk porcupine, a steampunkupine, which I can’t share with you because it’s your mom? But damn is it funny.