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Yo mama sucks.
For years, everyone has talked about yo mama, pointing out her failings in important areas such as appearance, mental capacity, and weight. Now, two researchers and retired sewer cartographers have spent over a decade investigating yo mama, assembling a wide range of evidence against her. They stalked, photographed, and studied the horrible woman who brought you into this world—yo mama—then compiled their findings.
The result is A PORTRAIT OF YO MAMA AS A YOUNG MAN. This unprecedented exposé proves once and for all that the woman who is arguably dearest to you in life—yo mama—is stupid, crazy, a failure, physically unattractive, deceitful, a bad mother to you, unthinkably overweight, and worthy of only ridicule and disdain. To make this case, the authors present you with graphs, field notes, charts, Mad Libs, and various primary source documents. Crying, you’ll learn what you never wanted to know from a text that is readable, contemptuous, and factual.
Here is some of the evidence you will find in A PORTRAIT OF YO MAMA AS A YOUNG MAN: yo mama’s résumé, her last will and testament, her internet searches, personals she has placed, e-mails yo mama wrote to you while you were in college, and numerous charts and graphs. From this thorough and authoritative work you will learn facts such as:
· Yo mama says “comprised” when she means “composed,” as in, “I am comprised mostly of grease and sugar.”
· Yo mama’s so lupine, she chases rabbits.
· I had sex with yo mama and it was horrible. Just a horrible, horrible time.
· Yo mama got two wishes from a genie.
· If nervous tics were pizzas, yo mama would have five pizzas that freak everybody out.
· And the opinions of a variety of observers, including a taxi driver (“Yo mama’s so stupid, she doesn’t know how to get to 4653 Greenwood Terrace”) and Nietzsche (“God is dead. Yo mama is just really decrepit-looking.”)
Drawing on a substantial research budget and the strong stomachs they acquired from working in America’s sewers, Andrew Barlow and Kent Roberts got closer to yo mama than anyone else ever has. They even experienced the infamous battle between yo mama's head lice and body lice of 1992. All in all, you will not find a better biography of yo mama. Authored by two of the funniest twentysomethings writing today, this absurdist take on the oldest joke in the book—the “yo mama” snap—is warped, witty, ironic, and, frankly, sad in places.
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
Andrew Barlow contributes humor pieces to The New Yorker. Kent Roberts edits Kent (www.kentroberts.net) and contributes to The Onion. They both live in New York City.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
When people look at yo mama's wedding photos, they remark that she looks "haggard."
Yo mama's so ugly, when she drops something in public, heterosexual men assist her only out of altruism, or in the hope that another, more attractive woman is watching.
Yo mama says, "Silence is a virtue." A lot.
If nervous tics were pizzas, yo mama would have five pizzas that freak everybody out.
Yo mama uses fake static noises to end face-to-face conversations.
Yo mama's picture is on the front cover of the controversial new bestseller The Boring Gene.
Yo mama was the subject of the TV movie Fat Insane Whore.
Yo mama's so mentally disturbed, if depression were pastrami, anxiety mustard, and obsessive-compulsive disorder lettuce, she could eat her mental problems as a pretty good sandwich. Only one problem, though: no bread.
Yo mama's so lupine, she chases rabbits.
Yo mama's so lupine, she barks, moans, whines, woofs, yelps, whimpers, growls, and snarls, but what really excites naturalists and laypersons alike is her howl.
Yo mama's so lupine, if she were killed, I would say that chances are she was killed by a wolf from a nearby hostile pack.
Yo mama's so lupine, she went to Alberta and was trapped for her pelt; but she gnawed her leg off and got away. Now she looks back at the experience with a hearty smile. Or is that a grimace? Whatever, she probably can't even tell what we're talking about.
Yo mama's mix tapes are just a bunch of recent U2 songs on one side and a "Weird Al" Yankovic album copied on the other.
Yo mama's CD rack is 90 percent those chocolate CDs her sister's company makes.
Yo mama eats, breathes, and sleeps With Every Man She Can Lay Her Hands On. (With Every Man She Can Lay Her Hands On is an unpublished romantic thrill-ride by yo mama's friend Fleatrice.)
Yo mama is very lupine, and although she is often mistaken for a Mexican gray wolf, or Canis lupus baileyi, I know that she is actually a red wolf, or Canis rufus, because she is smaller than the gray wolf (her head is narrower, also) and because one time I saw her interbreeding with a coyote.
The only reason yo mama doesn't grow a beard is because her facial hair comes in patchy.
Yo mama eats so many biscuits, the guy at the diner sometimes mutters to himself, "Whoa, slow down there, Winifred. Save some for the other fat people."
Yo mama's so industrious, she gives at least 110 percent every time, and sometimes gives infinity percent.
Yo mama has passionate opinions about the issue of wolf reintroduction in the north central states, and we all know why.
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Book Description Three Rivers Press, 2005. Paperback. Condition: New. Never used!. Seller Inventory # P111400050723
Book Description Three Rivers Press, 2005. Paperback. Condition: New. Brand New!. Seller Inventory # VIB1400050723
Book Description Three Rivers Press. PAPERBACK. Condition: New. 1400050723 New Condition. Seller Inventory # NEW7.0569541