Tautologies of the slow turn

I was gonna open this one up without any regard for the spellchecker or pulchritude. I was gonna tear in with hops-fueled animosity and a Virgo's penchant for order and righteousness. However, between the car ride and stripping to my boxers I lost some of the edge and will be unable to impart the knowledge I thought I had. Tomorrow. Human Papilloma Virus. Chlamydia. All them STD's hangin' about waiting. Well they can wait. This evening started with Scotch and good friends and a baby and its good looking momma and I guess Happy Mother's Day to you lady -- you are what you are, but you'll never toughen like my old gal. The recoup has been good and the health's creeping back up and my momma's cheeks are getting their color back slowly and it will never be truer than the fact that eventhough she works on driving me crazy, I love and admire that tough broad. She's gonna bury me some day. She's gonna bury all of us. She's gonna bury you too while she turns the volume knob on the TV to its highest setting cuz nobody can watch TV that low. Whatever the Hell that means -- some of you will know. My mother uses the slow turn and she's gonna pass us all the fuck out.