One From the TOO MUCH Information Desk

I was hanging out recently, with my girl friend... Number One daughter was there, looking at a book and wishing she hadn't come over with me.

Me (to friend) "I just need someone to make out with. That would fix me right up."

#1 "Jimmy'll make out with you, momma." Snicker. She is punishing me for not taking her home.

Friend "Who the hell is Jimmy?"

Well, Jimmy is a miscreant friend of my oldest daughter. Technically I suppose he is a man but only technically. He is an adolescent... miscreant. They are all miscreants, even the ones that Eddie Haskell me. And knowing that he would gladly come over and make out with me is TOO MUCH INFORMATION. I did not need to know it then and I don't want to know it now.

Turns out, oh holy hell, I am MILF. I guess that's better than being "that bitch" or something else equally nasty (kids today prefer the C word). But on the whole I'd rather not be MILF either. It's creepy.

Number One's boy friend has given me some suspicious looks recently. She said "Oh, mom, if you knew what he thought he would DIE." Something about my hair.

I had a friend in high school. (Yes, I had friends...) He was strange. Wore a tie sometimes, always seemed too old -- kind of an Alex Keaton thing, remember that? He was crazy sick in love with my mother. That grossed me out at the time, and to be honest, it still does. Does this mean that my daughter is grossed out too? I don't think so. I think she likes it. But, dude, it grosses me out.