Of road whores and Rhodes Scholars.

untitledmother’s best friends are the town whore and a mentally challenged women. She’s always had this habit of befriending the underdog, the person no one else wants anything to do with.

Before you drag out the hearts and flowers, I must tell you that it’s not a noble act by any stretch. She simply likes to hang out with people who, by comparison, make her look good. It’s a horrible thing, I know. But that’s how my sweet momma rolls.

Her slut friend has slept with half the town. But you have to give her props. Geriatric pimpin’ ain’t easy — especially when you confuse the K-Y with the Ben-Gay and the condom with the colostomy bag. Monday through Saturday, she’s spreading her legs. Sunday, she’s sitting in the front pew. Hey, god loves the whores, too. He ESPECIALLY loves the whores. Hearing Myrtle repent for covetous thoughts about Hazel’s tater tot casserole recipe has got to get old, even for a deity. What a welcome change it must be when when Seniorita Slutbags walks in and drops phrases like “rim job” and “dirty Sanchez.”

You wouldn’t know it by looking at her, but untitledmother’s other friend is mentally challenged. untitledmother says she’s smart enough to figure out how NOT to work. Gee, sounds like some other genius I know. Glad to see you’ve found a role model, ma.

The fact that her retarded friend doesn’t have to work really gets under untitledmother’s skin, for her philosphy has always been “She who naps the longest and manages to do the least amount of work wins.” But you know what they say: It’s hard to soar like an eagle when you’re flying with turkeys. Not that untitledmother would want anything to do with soaring. Cause that would, like, take a modicum of effort.