A Mom's Defense of Workaholics

One Sunday after a morning of channeling our inner homesteaders by making a batch of Michelle Duggar’s homemade laundry detergent, my friend Natalie and I decided to take a needed rest from the Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman debauchery with an afternoon of wine and TV. 

“Have you ever seen Workaholics?” she asked. 

“No, is it good?” 

“Ohh…just watch.” 

We spent the next few hours catching up on the Comedy Central lowbrow sitcom, and by 5 p.m. I was hooked (Yes, I’m three seasons behind. Such is the life of a thirtysomething mom). 

When I mention my love for Workaholics to other moms who have seen the show, I get one of two responses. It’s either a side eyes and an “OMG, that show is so disgusting!” or a flurry of jazz hands and “OMG, I love that show!” while looking around to make sure no one’s judging them. 

Like many of my Workaholics cohorts, I think I have some semblance of sophistication. I have a Master’s degree, I’m kind of a food snob, and my goal in life is to become a literature professor. 

But at the end of the day, boy do I love a good d*** joke. 

The scoop behind the show

If you’ve never seen Workaholics, here’s the rundown. The show follows the adventures of roommates Anders, Blake and Adam who work together at a telemarketing firm. To relieve the tension of working for the man, the three get themselves in all sorts of crazy shenanigans, which usually involve some sort of bodily fluid.

Recent episodes may have included the tossing of a rotting dead dog into a ceiling fan and Adam relieving himself on a side of beef he was about to jerky in an act of revenge. 

Basically, the show is geared toward pot-smoking frat boys, not the minivan-driving suburban mom.

But here’s the genius behind Workaholics and why it’s resonating with women – whether you work at home or out of the home, no matter how much you love your job, the stress of the day can drive you insane to the point you just want to rebel beyond cracking open the box wine on a Tuesday. 

In fact, Entertainment Weekly remarked this week, “Female fans can appreciate the way the men on these shows try to turn low-income goofing around into a way of life – into a form of mild societal rebellion in an American economy that’s made barely getting by in crap jobs the new norm.” 

Moms are placed on a social pedestal to act politically correct and demure 24/7. No cursing at work, no clotheslining the coworker who stole your yogurt, no drinking at the PTA meeting – it’s flipping exhausting. With Workaholics, one can revolt vicariously through three guys who are as frustrated as many of us are at times. It’s the new Office Space, but with more bathroom humor. 

Like Anders, the “responsible one,” and the trio’s boss, Alice, I once had to grovel at a client’s feet to get a contract signed. But unlike the Workaholics, I couldn’t offer him acid to get a signature – I actually had to perform a bunch of pro-bono work to secure the account. Whenever I feel like I haven’t lived up to my expectations professionally, I have a little pity party in my car on the commute home. Anders, on the other hand, becomes a squatter in a staged home for sale across the street to portray a sense of success to others. These aren’t the kind of people I would want my kids to look up to, but there’s a part of me that’s incredibly jealous of them. 

This Thursday, CNN contributor Shanon Cook examined the new “40-year-old reversion,” a phrase coined by author Amy Sohn. On TheAwl.com, Sohn shared how her mom friends in her affluent Brooklyn neighborhood were finding excitement by regressing back to their twenties through a Girls-level use of alcohol, drugs and sex. Cook, on the other hand, remarked that while blowing off a little steam is necessary, these women are hitting a “point of no return.” 

Since I don’t do drugs (daycare costs trump shrooms budget) or have extramarital affairs (because I love my husband; plus an affair would necessitate a shaving of the legs), my steam blowing is accomplished through a big fountain Coke and a Workaholics marathon. Oh yes - I’ve regressed past 22-year-old sorority girl to 13-year-old boy. 

And let me point out one final thing in my confession. That Fifty Shades of Gray you’re holding – oh, I’ve read it too, fellow mom, and it’s just as raunchy as Workaholics, but E L James sugar-coated it with flowery language and romance to lessen the depravity. Judge not lest ye be judged, you mommy porn reader you! 

So, moms, what are your guilty pleasures when relaxing at the end of the day? 

By Nicole Plegge, Lifestyle Blogger for SmartParenting