Everyday it becomes a little clearer to me: Mom's just aren't what they used to be. If they're not drowning you, they're stripping for you.

Call me old fashioned, but I remember well the days when moms were merciless administrators of punishment, unintentional dyers pink of socks, bargers in of rooms just when you're poised to poke Suzy's sunshine with a grubby forefinger, and pickers-up late from the mall. In my day, they weren't flawed people, they were evil-doers that tirelessly plotted against you. But if the news is to be believed, these days they're something different altogether. They're the kind of chicks you'd meet at a shitty bar a half an hour before closing.

I really don't want to trivialize being drowned at age four, though I suspect I'm about to. I also have to be clear that I've never spent a birthday at the go kart track, so I don't know the disappointment felt when such an event is promised, then snatched away. I suspect it's great disappointment, because I have been go karting, just not on a birthday, and it's lots of fun. Further, I should clarify that I've never drowned, and I offer this post as evidence of it. I can also say without much hesitation that I've never been close to drowning.

So, while I obviously have very little experience in these matters, I think that, speaking as a teenaged boy, I'd rather be drowned than have my mother strip for myself and a group of my friends, no matter how much beer we were offered. The police report describes a drunken, stoned mother dancing, stripping, and grabbing the crotches of the son's friends, while the son screamed and raged. The report also points out that the hotel room's amenities included a hot tub. Frankly, I'm surprised the son didn't drown himself.

A boy's teens can difficult enough without being known as the guy whose mother loves to get fucked up and fuck if the go kart track isn't open.