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Your Very Best Stories About Your Mom

Illustration for article titled Your Very Best Stories About Your Mom

It’s nearly Mother’s Day, so get ready for some holiday themed content! This week’s Pissing Contest is all about the mamas! Tell us your happy mom stories, tell us your sad ones, tell us the ones about weird vacations and awkward interactions. As always, we’ll post the best of the best next week!

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Speaking of winners, here are the triumphant submitters from last week’s Pissing Contest, The Craziest Thing You’ve Ever Done After a Breakup.

I was going through a very ugly divorce. My husband cheated multiple times and eventually moved out. While this was going on, I had to change the locks on the doors to my house due to a burglary, and didn’t tell him. One day, he stopped by to get something from the house and couldn’t get in. He flew into a rage and demanded a new key to the house. I consulted my lawyer, who told me that legally, I had to give him a key. So I went and had a key made and brought it to a friend of mine. She is originally from New Orleans and has a relative who claims to be a voodoo high priestess. I asked her if she could have her relative put a hex on that key. I don’t remember the exact hex details, but the gist of it was, the balls of the owner of the key would shrivel up and bear no other fruit. I mailed him the key and shortly after, I moved out of the house.

He married his mistress once the divorce was final, and has been trying for 8 years to have another kid with his new wife. So far, no dice.

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-MichelleB70

Tracked down his wife and told her everything.

-doit2julia!, keeping it short and sweet.

I dated a guy in law school who broke up with me, on Valentine’s Day, in a fancy French restaurant. Apparently he thought I would not make a scene in public. Apparently he had learned shit about me in that year we dated. I bounced a bowl of fancy little French pickles off his forehead, one by one, and the waiter brought me a fresh bowl.

He also asked me not to date three men—my ex, a really hot guy who always hit on me, and a guy firmly wedged in the Friendzone. I slept with my ex within 24 hours, spent a couple weeks with the really hot guy, and then gave Friendzone a try, which lasted for a year and was actually exactly what I needed at that point in my life.

-midwesternmom

My ex thought it was a good idea to move to another state and hide from child support. Since he had such a consistent history of cheating I thought it would be easy to track him down on Craigslist’s Missed Connections. Someone had to know him because he had penis and it did wander. A lot. He also loved to make sure all the women he dated at once thought they were his beloved for eternity. So I posted his photo, description and my desire to have him served for child support on Missed Connections in the city I heard he was living in. In 4 hours 3 women emailed me, all claiming to be his girlfriend and none of them knew anything about me or his infant son or each other. So I replied to all of them, at once in one email and introduced them all to one another.

Needless to say it kind of ruined all his relationships... he also was living with a 4th woman. He ended up with none of them. I, on the other hand met 3 very nice women and one of them is still my friend to this day. We think our “how we met” story is beautiful. My post on Craigslist was the best post-break up therapy ever. I felt a million times better afterwards and I have to admit, it was pretty cleverly written. I made the best of Craigslist that year. I was honored.

I did hear that a few people who knew him printed it out and hung it up at the bar he frequented and it had made the rounds for a few months. This was before Facebook and Twitter so considering it was the infancy of social media I feel pretty proud that I accomplished so much online so fast. The department of child support services was also impressed. They used my story as an example to other women of “creative ways to find a non-custodial parent in arrears.”

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-ihatebras

And here, for your reading pleasure, is an email I got from a very chilled-out dude who doesn’t quite get what Pissing Contest is and is mad about it.

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First one coming in last Saturday at 4:40am EST:

Illustration for article titled Your Very Best Stories About Your Mom
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And the next one, because he had more to say, arriving at 4:44am:

Illustration for article titled Your Very Best Stories About Your Mom
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Hope you enjoyed the breakup stories and have an easier time figuring it out this week, buddy!

Image via Addams Family Values/Paramount Pictures.


Contact the author at madeleine@jezebel.com.

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DISCUSSION

My mom is a transplanted Midwestern lady living in a small island town in south Texas. There are a lot of great stories I could tell about her (she was briefly Mormon because the only church within walking distance of her family’s farm was a Mormon temple and then she got a scholarship to BYU and, as she likes to tell it, “they don’t tell you about the weird stuff until you’re in it for awhile.”) but my favorite was her long friendship with this odd quasi-homeless dude in our town named Francois. My mom is a nurse and the kind of lady who will make friends with anyone. I found this completely mortifying as a kid because she was constantly chatting up people in grocery lines, elevators, you name it. Francois was an oddball, a kind of unwashed dude with a mysterious past and a gnarly, waist-length beard who bummed around town on a bicycle and lived in a sunken houseboat that he’d kind of half-assedly repaired himself on the outskirts of town and probably the kind of person most middle-class mothers like mine would avoid looking at and scoot their children away from. But my mom just saw another human being and another potential friend in him. His houseboat was on her way to work and she’d give him rides if the weather was bad and she was always trying to give him help and medical advise because he was older and lived so rough. I wanted to be a writer, and his hobby was to write odd letters to the editor in verse to our small weekly town newspaper criticizing local politics and rhapsodizing on the beauty of the beaches, signing them FRANCOIS ZEN POET OF (town name). She’d give him copies of my stuff in the high school newspaper and talk proudly to him about my writing until he saw me as a kind of surrogate child himself. Sad to say, I was a sulky teen and never saw his and my mom’s relationship as anything more than evidence of her extreme lameness and lack of understanding about all that was good and cultured in the world.

Well, he died alone one night of a heart condition while riding his bicycle along the route my mom used to pick him up. After trying to get him into the doctor for so long, knowing he was having problems, she took it really hard. And she was so sad, like she’d lost her best friend. At first I didn’t understand, he was just the town bum or whatever, but then I had this sudden realization that she had been friends with him for almost my entire life. I’d only ever seen him as this weirdo who bummed around town on his bicycle. She’d seen past his scraggly beard and bicycle and dilapidated house boat and off-beat lifestyle and gotten to know him and loved him for who he was. For the first time in my little teenage life, I looked at my mom’s outgoing personality and openness to everyone that annoyed me so much and I saw the grace and honest love in it.