“The line is your belt.”

I had lunch with my dad yesterday and tried to explain where the line is between him calling our server “honey” because he’s old and that’s what old people do, and some random middle-age fuckface calling ME “honey” on the subway because he’s a cretin.

But this morning it occurred to me — the line is your belt, Dad. You call a woman “honey” with your brain or your heart (ie, the bits ABOVE your belt)? COOL — fatherly.

You call her “honey” with your dick? NOT cool — Molester Uncle.

It’s not the word. It’s the smarm.

The honey jar is not a metaphor…at least not right now. 

I’m still sick, and I’m definitely not saying I need a MAN to open this stuck jar of honey to put in my tea. But I AM saying I’d blow someone if they opened it, and men tend to be a little more receptive to that exchange rate.

Stacy’s mom totally DID have it goin’ on.

In less obsessive news…

Intro message from a guy on OkCupid: “Hey honey are u into young guys”

OK, first off, that sounds a little statutory.

Next, dude is 30, so I’m half tempted to write him back and say, “I’m totally into young guys, but yesterday a 20-year-old said he would be down for one-night-only sex — so it’d be like a concert…of dick. So if I were to go with Mrs. Robinson kink, it’d be with him. At least he used punctuation, and at least I’d literally be old enough to be his mother, so we could have the full experience. It’d be downright Oedipal.”

Further, in the words of the immortal Melanie Carmichael/Smooter, “Don’t you ‘honey’ me, honey.”

And finally…30 isn’t that young. I mean, it’s too young for ME, but it’s 10 years, fuckface. I’ve dated 10 years older, it was fine. I’m not Stifler’s mom, man. Slow your roll.