I would like my Christmas play with more closet whores, please

Yeah, me too, Finstock.

A few weeks ago I attended a Christmas musical that my awesome, social genius kids were participating in. It was a religious thing, held at a church that has more multimedia equipment than a local television station, and featured a series of God loving enlightening pappy crap tunes that sounded a notch better than cats getting spayed by a lumpy nub of a finger through their rectums (which I imagine would create howls and shrieks of pain, unless that is your kind of thing).

I don’t know much, but I do know one thing…

Private, religious schools have nothing but a collection of hot mom’s I’d like to nail while on my knees praying to the almighty clam.

I don’t know what it is, maybe it is my unique ability to notice anything with a nice set of tits and legs from 10 miles away, but my kids’ school has a ton of these women. I’m pretty sure that now I would at least take time away from being a total douchebag to volunteer at their school if I knew that every time I went I’d have a full stock of whacking material implanted in my head.

However, in retrospect, I might want to reconsider after further reviewing the situation (once my fluffed member returned that blood it was borrowing) I noticed a few things that were red flags about these pseudo-Stepford wives, and will make me retract toward more sane public school mom’s.

1. Some of them spoke.

That was a bad thing. Sure, they looked fabulous in their tight shirts, jeans and fuck me pumps or whatever they were wearing to make me more turgid than a skateboard rail, (because nothing says, ‘I love Jesus’ more than a paid for huge rack on display, perfect nails and $250 shoes). But the words they use. “We hope that God blesses you in the New Year.” “I feel so wonderful being able to provide a wonderful house the Lord loves.” People don’t really talk like this, do they? No way, sorry. It is physically impossible for a woman to be THAT fucking hot and not say, “Stan, I want to bounce on that baby arm you call a cock.” Just. Not. Possible.

2. Their idea of a “fun night” is procreating.

The act in and of itself is fine by me. Hell, the idea of rough, ruthless, “let’s play the back nine next” sex is an idea I can wrap my head around. But, when you’re a woman with four kids under the age of seven, well, I begin to wonder if you even have a television. If your idea of “home entertainment” is getting cum dropped in you and hoping that you can spend the next nine months waddling around like you smuggled a beach ball, well, I’ll be not sowing the seed of love, sweets. I’m watching football during that time o’ the month. Mazel.

3.  Their kids are fucking brats.

I guess your kids will be assholes when they’re raised on McDonald’s in large SUV’s playing Madagascar every time the key is in the ignition and pretty much get everything they want all the time out of mom because she feels guilty about being at pilates, classes, on her cell phone, pregnant or whatever they do to avoid their already born kids. That’s a recipe for raising sucky, assholish, “therapy in a few years for sure” kids. Remember, my kids are cool, your kids suck.

4. They are married. Yeah. Kind of a problem. At least public school mom’s are open to the idea of fucking other men. Which I guess is why half of them are single. Huh. Go figure.

So, bring on the Christmas plays, the Easter pageants, the Sadie Hawkins dances, Bar Mitzvah’s…whatever. I love the ladies at these things and those images that pop in my head of what I could do to these women, and it’s free. Like low quality sample porn sites. And public schools.

Mazel. Good things.