I have a dream, a dream where one day special Mothers All Over the World will receive Mommy Oscars in a grossly over-produced, impossibly-boring awards ceremony. A dream where all the mothers who are nominated receive swag, yes, bags and bags of stuff that surpasses all other stuff, where the audience is full of moms looking viciously hot in inexpensive gowns found on sale, where all winners are handed Golden Breast Awards by well-tanned, in-shape, boy-toys in bikinis, a dream where George Clooney changes diapers…
Poof! Aw. My dream has been deemed irrational and offensive by the FCC.
Seriously, I think the “Mommies” would be great entertainment (awards for “Best Performance At a School Function”, “Editing Yourself at Thanksgiving Dinner”, “Documentary Production of Elsie’s 1st Grade Graduation Scrapbook”). But what I really get all psyched up about is the thought of some real Mommy SWAG.
What’s swag? For those of you who don’t know it’s ridiculous gifting for no apparent reason other than the maker of the goods gets a ‘celeb’ to wear, use, or display their goods. That’s with the hope that the rest of us will buy the $1000 useless evening purse or $22,000 243-inch television. Right – I’m zooming out right now. Yeah, swag (other than the swag referring to the drape of velvet over your living-room window) refers to “Stuff We All Get” – ‘we’ meaning the ‘we’ that doesn’t include you.