Mamacita's Mother's Day Plans

Big Daddy Drew is the best writer on the internet. You can find his musings at Kissing Suzy Kolber, a group NFL blog. Last year at this time he posted on his personal blog (which he has since stopped writing) an itinerary for his first Father's Day. It was one of the funniest things I've ever read. But why should fathers have all the fun? I present my plans for next year on Mother's Day:

Big Daddy Drew	Mamacita
7:00AM – Baby cries. Someone who is not me tends to it.	Roll over; discover papi chulo is sleeping in cot next to bed so as not to crowd me.
9:00AM – Mrs. Drew wakes me up while wearing the uniform of a service industry employee of my choosing. I’m thinking a 1920’s speakeasy cigarette girl. It’s eccentric, yet boneriffic.	Wake up, discover extra wing has been added to house for my own personal dressing room/ bathroom/ closet/ dungeon.
9:01AM – Hot monkey sex.	Hot monkey sex.
9:15AM – Shower.	Shower.
9:37AM – Watch news. Find out Brett Favre has been killed in a hunting accident. Cry hot tears of joy.	Shop online at Kiki de Montparnasse. Buy one of everything.
9:38AM – Play with the Girl until tired of doing so.	Children appear and demonstrate complete knowledge of Spanish and Trigonometry.
9:45AM – Tired of doing so.	(9:39 a.m.) Demonstration over.
9:46AM – Greet in-laws at the door and hand the Girl over to them. Bye, Girl!	(9:40 a.m.) Send kids to play at neighbors’ house for next 36 hours.
9:47AM – Bong hit.	Bellini.
10:00AM – Eggs.	Eggs Benedict, motherfucker.
10:10AM – Boooooooooong hit.	Rest of pitcher of Bellinis
10:30AM – Limo ride to Dave & Buster’s, where I down three boilermakers and beat the living shit out of a random 15-year-old at Pop-A-Shot. Yell to everyone, “I’m the Daddy here, bitches!”	Limo ride to Sephora. Discover new superpower: ability to vaporize teenyboppers with my eyes. Spare one teenybopper who has babysitter potential.
11:10AM – Limo ride to airport. Drink a bottle of Cristal. Listen to “Master of Puppets” in its entirety, singing both the vocal and guitar parts. Come up with the idea for a cologne that smells like gunfire. Call my brother to have it patented. Develop marketing plan to sell it exclusively in nightclubs in downtown Houston, Atlanta, and Miami. Call venture capitalist. Secure a $100 million investment.	Discover cures for epilepsy, arthritis. Sell to highest pharmaceutical bidder. Deposit check; have Tom Stoppard write Nobel acceptance speech.
11:35AM – Have limo pull over. Have hot monkey sex on the shoulder.	Have limo pull over. Hot monkey sex on the shoulder.
12:00PM – Private Concorde to Atlantis in the Bahamas. Drink three Stoli & grapefruits while watching the in-flight movie, which is the first 40 minutes of “Full Metal Jacket”, followed by the first 20 minutes of “Saving Private Ryan”. Fucking. Awesome.	Meet friends aboard Citation X bound for Switzerland. Watch Out of Africa. Cry. Laugh. Braid each other’s hair.
1:04PM – Smoke a bowl.	Peruse Oprah’s Favorite Things.
1:05PM – Spontaneously orgasm.	Keep the cashmere and chocolate; give rest to sisters.
1:10PM – Land. Limo to casino. Hit blackjack table. Immediately go up $250,000.	Land. Limo to spa on Lake Como. Massage.
1:42PM – Russell Crowe enters the casino. Sits down next to me. Tells me he’s a huge fan of my work and wishes he were more like me. Rubs my thigh and tells me I’m the first man he’s ever been gay for.	Blowout.
1:43PM – Slap the shit out of Russell Crowe. Get another $50,000 in chips compliments of the casino bellhop staff.	Mani/Pedi.
2:00PM – Late lunch. Two five pound lobsters. Entire smoked salmon. Gallon of beluga caviar. Bottle of Dalmore.	Late lunch composed entirely of antipasti. More Bellinis.
2:45PM – Escorted to private suite with Mrs. Drew.	Meet George Clooney at his place on the lake.
2:59PM – Act out entire sequences from the movie “Night Trips,” starring the legendary Tori Welles.	Act out sequences from Unfaithful.
4:29PM – Shower. Play with myself, just to mix things up a bit.	Shower. Have sex with Brazilian cheerleader, just to mix things up a bit.
4:45PM – Limo back to airport. Private Concorde to New York City. Turn on satellite television to watch the World Cup. Find out soccer has been preempted by highlights of the Vikings 31-17 playoff win at Lambeau Field two years ago, the one where Randy Moss pretends to take a shit on the field. Except, in this version, Moss really does take a shit on the field, and then Joe Buck dies on the air in a hail of gunfire.	Fly back to New York; limo ride to Yankee stadium. Watch Roy Oswalt throw interleague no-hitter. See Alex Rodriguez cry.
6:00PM – Land in Manhattan. Limo ride to Hudson Hotel. Get fitted for a suit by the very finest Italian tailor while in the car. Inhale entire nitrous oxide tank.	Check into The Carlyle. Roll around naked on the fancy sheets.
6:30PM – Arrive at Hudson Hotel Bar. Bouncer looks at guest list. I am the only name on the list. Enter the bar and instruct bouncer to bring me headshots of people who would like to get in for my approval.	Head down to Bemelmans Bar. Drinks with the Ladies… Agree to judge Hump Day Hotties Pageant.
6:49PM – Approve of no one. Get fucking drunk.	Meet with head of US (tennis) Open, David Stern. They agree to bring back short shorts.
8:00PM – Dinner at Per Se. Thomas Keller comes to our table, tells me he’s a huge fan. Offers complimentary foie gras, fellatio. I take the former.	Dinner at Four Seasons with Kurt Andersen and Tina Fey. Discuss plans to bring back Spy.
9:43PM – Helicopter ride back home. Ask pilot to hover five feet off the ground in select areas. Use long-range hunting rifle and night scope to gun down cats at random.	Helicopter ride back home. See that all cats in neighborhood have been dressed up in costumes for my amusement.
10:30PM – Pick up the Girl. She smiles at me, laughs a little, and then falls asleep.	Smell a baby’s head. Am glad it’s not my baby.
10:45PM – Limo ride home.	Limo ride home
11:00PM – Tuck in Girl.	Tantric yoga
11:01PM – Hot monkey sex in front of mirror. I look good.	Hot monkey sex in front of mirror. I look good.
11:15PM – Turn on news. Find out Osama bin Laden, Paris Hilton, and Jimmy Fallon all died. Drink a bottle of Cabernet in celebration.	Turn on news. Find out Christian Lacroix is producing a line for Target. Pint of Rum Raisin ice cream in celebration.
11:29PM – Leave witty comment on deadspin.com that only I find funny.	Leave witty comment on KSK that only I find funny.
11:30PM – Kiss Mrs. Drew good night. Throw massive kegger.	Kiss Papi Chulo goodnight. Host Sassy reunion party. Jump on trampoline.
7:00AM – Sleep well, Big Drew. You are truly the king of kings.	Sleep well, Mamacita. You rule most things.