Perdiddle? Or Sex it?

Driving out of our neighborhood today, we passed car with a headlight out. I mumbled "perdiddle" which was a game I played as a kid. Whoever said it first, got to punch the passenger next to you (exp. the driver was exempt).

"What did you say," my daughter asked.

So I explained and she started to laugh. The game has changed in the last 40 years and is now called "sex it." When said car sans one headlight is seen, whoever in the car touches the roof and says "sex it." Last one to do so has to take off a piece of clothing.

"No mom, I haven't done this...and beside no one ends up taking off too much clothing," she quickly said.

"And you haven't done this?"

"No, just heard about it."

Right.

I'm not sure I want to know the answer to this

But do old people still make out, my daughter asks.

Define old.

I see her giving me the hairy eyeball. OK, old means, me.

After a few more heartbeats, she decides it's time to clarify.

"After all, I just can't see 80 year olds giving each other tongue. They should stick to pecks on the cheek"

"Please don't ask your grandmother about this, I'd like to her see at least 81," I said.

"And yes, old people, if that includes your dad and I, still make out"

Eeeeeew. Gross!

Well, you asked.

Health class, part II

After they put together the sexual organs, the class moved on today to who was the strongest -men or women.

It seems the teacher told the girls next time the guy bragged that he was big and tough, point to the area of the uterus and note that that's considered one of the strongest muscles in the body.

Apprently this health class conversation continued at the local coffee shop after school, where J decided to torture her b-friend with pictures and articles from "Glamour."

There were articles on sexual disfunction, and wild sexual poses, which J of course had to describe in detail to her best friend and her long suffering boyfriend.

"You didn't do this out loud did you," I squeaked. "The owner will kick you out!"

Okay, okay mom, we'll keep it down next time.

I"ll have to quickly buy a $50 punch card at the coffee store to make sure there is a next time.

Gossip Girl

WTF, Jennifer... WTF!!!!

I wish I was saying what the heck..but I wasn't. I had just picked up my daughter from school, who announced she hadn't had the best of days.

So, I prompted, what happened?

"Well, this one boy said I'd given a blow job to my old b-friend (I hadn't), and this other boy is spreading the rumor that I want to sleep with him (I don't),and this other girl is still saying I have bad teeth, but that's losing steam. Typical gossip in high school."

That's where I started my rant, having visions of tracking down blow-job boy, who'd made this announcement in front of a parent I know, and slamming his head against the wall until he passed out.

"Mom, calm down," she said. Insert eye roll here. "This boy sez everyone's giving everyone blow jobs, so no one pays attention to him, and (the ex b-friend) denied it. As for G. he says every girl wants to sleep with him, so no one listens to him either. And as for my teeth, all they have to do is look at 'em."

Oh.

"Didn't they gossip in your school..this will blow over by tomorrow and move on to someone else," she said sagely.

And by the next day, it had to some other poor soul.

In my day (yes 30 years ago), yes we did gossip, tho I can't remember blow jobs coming up in the conversation. In truth, I'm not sure I heard the term until college. We were just wondering which cheerleader was sleeping with which jock. I think we still used the terms 1st, 2nd and 3rd base.

And I was lower down the food chain than my daughter is. No one took much notice of this skinny girl from South Everett. Thankfully.

Uhm, probably won't watch True Blood with J. anymore

Now don't get me wrong. We share a love of vampire movies and books. She and I really liked the "Twilight" series, in fact, I turned her onto the books after I realized it was a series. We both hated the movie. It's been a while since we've seen such bad acting.

So when someone told me "try out the sookie stackhouse novels," and after I got over the weird southern name, I dove in and plowed through them. They were good, and Charlene Harris does a good job of weaving in this whole hidden world of werewolves, fairies, witches and of course, vampires around N. Louisiana. Now, some of the books are a bit raw, but HBO of course has taken this a bit further in the True Blood series, which is running now up til the next season.

I know that Sookies's bro, Jason is a hound, but I really didn't need to see him humping a woman (I can feel the psa ads appearing now) and watching himself in a mirror as he does it. I swear that wasn't in the book. Or a vamp tramp going down an a vampire (ick), or the vamps repaying her by slitting her throat and draining her, (double ick).

Gary walked into the room in a particularly...revealing moment and looked at me "You skipped church for this?"

No, I didn't skip church. I woke up to late after going to bed at 2 am after getting back from a state b-ball game and reading into the wee hours. I do that. And daylight saving time didn't help.

Even Jennifer looked down into her geometry homework Sunday morning and say "I don't think I should be watching this." Alas, I agree. I'm trying to decide if I should be watching this.

Stream of conciousness, then she pops the question

Jennifer sometimes goes into this stream-of-consciousness chatter on the way home from school that starts out something like this:

"Oh my god, Steph and I were talking and we think this guy looks like
skylar, from heroes, so we're stalking him to see what he does during the day, but
of course he doesn't see us (uh huh), and then Serena, I can tell her anything,
we were googling on how to French kiss, because one of our friends, the guy was
kissing her and he bit her tongue..are they supposed to do that (um, I don't
think so). by the way, when did you lose your virginity?

Screech like a record player here. I stalled, and resisted with the comeback
"how do you define virginity?" which is not a place either of us wanted to go.

So I told her to give me until the end of a rather loud obnoxious song on 106.1 and then took a deep breath.

"I think it was sometime after college, maybe at 23 or 22?" I was hoping she wouldn't pick up on the "I think."

"That sounds about right to me," she chirped. I don't want to get pregnant or an STD in college, I've got things to do and that would ruin my career.

I resisted pointing out that there are way of having sex that will prevent STDs and babies, but I wasn't going to get into that conversation either.

So How Much Do You Tell Your Daughter About Past Lives?

This is the question pondered in this Washington Post essay.

I've told Jennifer alot, but not all, like that one night-stand I had with an Israeli soldier-turned-tour-guide 25 years ago. I figure when she gets serious about someone I may have a deeper conversation about my love life with her.

She's already been asking about my first kiss (and I told her) and when I lost my virginity (in college...well depends on one defines virginity-another conversation I'm postponing with her).

So how much are you planning on telling your daughter or son?

Text, lies and videotape

As we were prowling through the mall today, looking for my hubby's b-day present, we passed by Victoria's Secret, when he stopped, looked at me and said "you need some new bras, go in and take a look."

Okaaay. Hint taken.

My daughter tagged along, since she sniffed out the possibility of buying a perfume she likes, and as long as mom was in the spending mood...why not?

Once we picked out the six smelly items for $30, I said, okay, I'm off to look at the bra sale. I thought my daughter's head was going to explode.

"I don't need to see, or think about this," she said. "Your mom didn't do this to you, did she?"

Well, actually she didn't. I once asked my dad, at around this cheeky age, when the last time was they french kissed..to which he replied "it is none of your god damn business."

Okay, end of that touching father-daughter moment. But no, my mom never purchased lace underwear trimmed with sleigh bells as I was now doing in front of J.

She went back into the perfume section, with strict orders NOT to come back until was I was done, and NOT ask her opinion about any of my purchases, and to put them in the bag with NO comments whatsoever.

So I picked up the sleigh bell undies, and a few other items and then picked out a black bra with rhinestones that I learned at checkout cost $48. Not quite how I envisioned spending $50, but it was a defacto gift for Gary.

"You know mom, I don't know how you're going to wear that bra under anything when it has so many lumps from the rhinestones," she said, as we headed to the car.

"Well, dear, it's not made for wearing under clothing," I start. She cuts me off with a glare and starts to text.

Gary then jumps in and starts explaining that I had only beige underpants and bras when he met me and that it took him years to get me to buy anything else.

At this point my daughter plugs her ears and starts going lalalalalalalallalal. He misinterprets the appalled look and thinking his daughter is affronted by any hint of pre-marital intimacy, revises the bland underpants discovery until after we were married. Yeah, like she'll believe that, and no, that's not what she was freaking out about.

"Too much info dad, I don't need to hear this. I don't need to have this video going through my mind!" she said, before she snapped open her cell phone and started texting again, probably telling all her friends her parents are sex fiends.

We drop her off later at the Auburn Supermall to shop and go to a movie with her friends, and then we go back to the house to try out my purchases. They work quite nicely, thank you, for all the 3 minutes I wore them.

As we pick up J. tonight from the movie, Juno-ironically, she asks what we did all night. Uh, just stopped by Top Foods for a few things and waited for your call, darling.

God, that sounds boring, she said, and starts texting the friends we just dropped off a few minutes earlier.

Yep, that's us, dull as dirt.