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My mamma was big and fat and she shopped a lot.

Now my mamma is not big or fat and she doesn't get out much.

My mamma used to complain she was tired all the time, which pissed off those of us in the house who have to work for a living. Now we know why.

My mamma has pancreatic cancer. People who have pancreatic cancer die within a year. First they have a lot of pain, then they lose a lot of energy, eventually they can't eat, then, when the tumor gets too big and squeezes off the hepatic functions (liver) they get jaundice and die.

My mamma is my mamma. She could have been a lot more than that but she spent at least 14 years talking down to her children and it's left permanent effects. My mamma is a smart lady, my mamma is a sentimental lady, but my mamma wouldn't watch Alomar's "All About My Mother" because it had whores and trannies in it.

My mamma never read Foucault and would never wish to. She did, however, raise at least one child who did.

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