Part muppet and part college faculty member, Brenna Clarke Gray holds a PhD in Canadian Literature while simultaneously holding two cats named Chaucer and Swift. It's a juggling act. Raised in small-town Ontario, Brenna has since been transported by school to the Atlantic provinces and by work to the Vancouver area, where she now lives with her stylish cyclist/webgeek husband and the aforementioned cats. When not posing by day as a forserious academic, she can be found painting her nails and watching Degrassi (through the critical lens of awesomeness). She posts about graphic narratives at Graphixia, and occasionally she remembers to update her own blog, Not That Kind of Doctor.
Blog: Not That Kind of Doctor
Twitter: @brennacgray
Always quick to jump on a trend (Yo Mama jokes are still cool, right?), here’s a Book Riot list of 25 literary Yo Mama jokes. Can you figure out all 25 references?
Yo mama’s so vast she contains multitudes.
Yo mama’s so dumb she’s painting Tom Sawyer’s fence.
Yo mama’s so basic she takes the road most travelled by.
Yo mama’s so two-faced her cheques say “Dr. Hyde.”
Yo mama’s so greedy she’s still in the Lonely Mountain.
Yo mama’s so broke she asked Oliver Twist to share his dinner.
Yo mama’s so indecisive she wears her trousers rolled.
Yo mama’s so delusional she kicked off a witch trial.
Yo mama’s so brilig that her slithy toves gyre and gimble all over town.
Yo mama’s so gossipy the whole first chapter of Anne of Green Gables is from her perspective.
Yo mama’s so worn out she’s like that pair of travelling pants.
Yo mama’s so manipulative she’s still washing imaginary blood off her hands.
Yo mama’s so lonely she’s out there being a cloud, looking for daffodils.
Yo mama’s so cursed she’s got a lightning bolt on her forehead.
Yo mama’s so sociopathic she can do a solid 20 on business cards.
Yo mama’s so boring the neighbours call her Mr. Collins.
Yo mama’s so evil that We Need to Talk about Her.
Yo mama’s so creepy she quoth, “Nevermore.”
Yo mama’s so earnest she lost both her parents. Careless.
Yo mama’s so tragic she sings about the June Rebellion.
Yo mama’s so full of lies she thinks dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
Yo mama’s so dried up she’s like a dream deferred.
Yo mama’s so busy nagging her husband he went to sleep for like 40 years.
Yo mama’s so tired that when the prince kissed her she smacked his head like a snooze button.
Yo mama’s so spoiled she got chased by a pack of nut-sorting squirrels.
