Just in case you were getting excited, the only link between this post and the late, loved Patrick Swayze is Houston (he was born there). No extra Swayze info here, I'm afraid. (Although, saying that, I did particularly love this from Whoopi Goldberg on Swayze's passing: "I believe in Ghost's message, so he'll always be near.")
Anyway, reading this blog post from Gwen (of Gwen and Her Men fame) of the Houston Chronicle is physically painful. I imagine poor "Josh" whimpering in his bedroom in Houston as his mother strides around town . . . wait for it . . . trying to find him a date for the prom.
"What about that one girl . . ." I start. I mean a girl that I saw at his eleventh-grade orientation last year. She'd passed us in the hall and had seemed really sweet and cute and smart to me. Totally high-school-girlfriend-worthy. Not to get all gross and Oedipal here, but she'd looked like a nicer, more well-adjusted version of me at that age. When I saw her, I immediately pointed her out to my son. "Look at that girl! She's cute! You should date her," I'd said at the time.
Josh is a handsome boy. I'm not just saying that because I'm his mother -- I've had it confirmed by independent sources, and I've seen the looks that junior high girls give him at the mall. He's tall and he lifts weights in his room at night, when he thinks we won't notice. And he's a snazzy dresser, thanks to my guidance.
Gwen, do you realise what you are doing? There is a picture on your blog. This will mean your son's friends will identify you as his mother. This will mean that he will be mercilessly taunted for the rest of his days. Not finding a prom date will be the least of his worries. And stop dressing the poor boy, for heaven's sake. You use the word "snazzy". This means, by definition, that letting you anywhere near the wardrobe of a 17-year-old boy is going to result in some kind of fashion crime. Gwen, leave him be. And stop watching him weight-lift. Seriously.