At Denny's in Sherman Oaks on Sunday night, my mother ordered a breakfast item off of the senior menu and the waitress asked, "Ma'am?" with her head cocked to the side to indicate that she does not believe my mother is old enough to order off the senior menu, which is for patrons aged 55 and older. My mother turned 56 last month.
And Mom, who'd ordered a piece of French toast that comes with an egg and some bacon, assures the waitress that she is, indeed, a senior by Denny's definition.
And the waitress says, "Congratulations on your beauty."
I shit you not.
Half the world has a crush on my mom.
Sometimes when I meet someone who knows my mother, they get this gaga-googoo look on their face and say something like, "Your mother is just wonderful," and often they tell me I look just like her, which I only half believe. I look like my mother the way Daniel Baldwin looks like Alec Baldwin -- there's obviously a resemblance but we know what's really going on.
Have you seen The Juror? Ho baby. If loving you is wrong, I don't wanna be right.
Happy Hump Day, Interwebs.